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A thousand things, but before I can make my muddled brain work hard enough to come up with just one, I’m distracted by the four words written in larger, uppercase letters on the back page:
WILL CURSE FOR MILK.
I point at it, drawing his attention to it. “I gave you milk when I first brought you inside. I know I’m not supposed to, but that’s all I had at the store.”
“That’s true.” He taps his fingers against his thigh. “What do you say, Kate? Do you need me to curse someone? It’s been a long time since I’ve tried, and it might not be the same as what those witches did to me in ’87, but for you… I’ll do anything.”
I think of Cindy, and how she won the pie contest yesterday. Then I think about what Vincent said and, if I do believe he is Mr. Whiskers—in my dreams, at least—then it makes sense that he feels a little bit in my debt. For six weeks, I’ve fed him and combed him and took care of him, and now he’s standing here as a man all because it’s Halloween and, for twenty-four hours, the curse that keeps him as a cat is broken.
Right. And I’m the Queen of Sheba.
Ignoring the way he’s watching me so closely, I look down—and that’s when I notice one of my drinking glasses on the floor. Luckily, it’s made of heavy-duty plastic instead of actual glass, so it’s not shattered on the tile, though I wonder if that’s what made one of the crashing sounds that woke me up.
I peek up at Vincent. “Why is my cup on the floor?”
He turns slightly. “Oh, that? I knocked it off the counter.”
I narrow my gaze on him. “When you were a cat?”
When he doesn’t say anything, I scowl. “When you were a cat, Mr. Whiskers?”
“My name is Vincent,” he reminds me. And then, blurting it out so suddenly, I think he surprises us both, he says, “And you are my fated mate.”
“Pardon?” I ask, proud that my voice is only mildly strangled. “You want to run that by me again?”
A crooked grin that makes him infinitely less arrogant and a lot more appealing. “My fated mate. Or, as the book said, my one true love. Warlocks get one in their lifetime, awarded by Fate. That’s you for me, Kate Bellamy. It’s why I needed you to adopt me as your pet, even if I’m sure you could’ve come up with a better name than Mr. Whiskers. We are meant to be together, and when you love me back, you can break the curse that’s kept me as a feline these last forty years. What do you say?”
Okay. I know I’ve been lonely. I know I’ve been wondering if I can afford to hire an assistant, someone to run the shop after I finish baking for the day. That way I could have some semblance of a life, maybe even start dating again.
But to have one of the most gorgeous guys I’ve ever seen pop up, tell me he’s been masquerading as my pet cat for the last six weeks, and now he loves me and we’re supposed to be together and, oh, yes, let’s not forget, he’s my cat.
What do I say? You’re fucking nuts would be rude, and since that’s the only thing I can think of as a retort to what he just said to me, I decide to keep my trap shut.
Vincent sighs. “Fair enough. Look. In another life, I would’ve knocked at your door. Asked for your number. Took you out on dates. I would’ve wooed you. We’d catch a flick, go on a drive, have some dinner. I’d make you fall in love with me.” With all of the arrogance of a cat, he adds, “You wouldn’t have been able to resist. But now I just have twenty-four hours to convince you that you’re mine.”
So far, all he’s doing is convincing me that one of us needs a trip to a psych facility.
“It’s very simple,” he continues. “You are my fated mate. My one true love. The witches that cursed me said that I would be a cat forever until my one true love figures out how to break the spell on me.”
I’m pretty sure he has more to say, but I cut him off first. “Cursed?” I echo. “What do you mean, cursed? What did you do to get cursed?”
He ignores me. “Listen… I’ve had a lot of time to think it over, and at the very least, I think we have to form a mate bond before midnight at the end of Halloween to have a shot at keeping me human.”
Dreams are weird. If I’m the one coming up with all of this, you’d think I’d know the answer already. Nope. I have no clue, and it’s obvious as I ask, “Um. How exactly are we supposed to form a mate bond?”
“You have to sleep with me, of course.”
FIVE
A (FORMER) CAT’S ATTEMPT AT FLIRTING
Iopen my mouth. Close it. Think about what he just said, and know that I should’ve expected something like this from the moment I struggled to look away from his body even when I knew I was being a creeper, checking out the naked pie thief.
I exhale roughly. “You mean, like, together? In the same bed?”
Please, please, please, let that be what you mean…
“Oh, Kate. You’re a mature female. Don’t tell me you don’t... okay. When a mature male and a mature female—”
