invisibility cloak for him or something.
At least he was only going to hang out under my skirt. I’d just have to be sure I didn’t sit down or I’d have fur all over my butt and back, and he’d jump up on my lap in an instant.
My other cat, Richard Armitage, was an orange Maine Coon with tabby markings, and he was presently trying to disappear in the hidey-hole I’d made for him in my closet when we’d moved in here. Richie was as sweet as could be but scared of his own shadow. As soon as I’d started going through my closet for something to wear, he’d figured out that something was up, and he hadn’t liked it, so off to his hidey-hole he’d gone.
He would have ended up there anyway once Keith arrived and knocked on the door because, of course, anyone knocking on the door was a terrifying thing for my Richie. I figured it was for the best that he was already in his safe spot. Maybe he wouldn’t get too worked up this time.
I wasn’t going to hold my breath over that one, though. He was eight years old and I’d had him since he was a kitten. Some things just weren’t going to change.
Before I succumbed to the desire to sit, a knock sounded at my door. A moment of panic seized me—fleeting, but entirely real—and I nearly decided to pretend I hadn’t heard it. BC had other ideas, though. He let out an excited meow, raced out from under my skirt, and headed straight for the door, which he slammed his head into before pawing at it as though he was trying to dig to China.
I fought the urge to curse at my cat as I crossed over to open the door. Keith was leaning against the doorjamb in dark jeans, a black sweater, and a leather jacket that fit him so well I nearly licked my lips. The next time I saw Tanya, I was going to give her a piece of my mind for putting the idea of sex on a stick in my head in regard to this man because I kept thinking about licking him the way I would a popsicle.
“Hi,” he said lazily, but his eyes were anything but lazy as they roved over my whole body. “I thought I said you should wear something comfortable.”
BC crossed the threshold to weave in and out of Keith’s legs, purring loudly.
I fidgeted with my scarf, tugging the long ends down so I could cross it over my belly, as though that could hide anything. “I’ve spent half my life in skirts and shoes like this. Should I go change?” Not that I wanted to delve back into that closet, especially considering it had taken me so long to decide on this to begin with. It was a daunting prospect on a good day.
“No, it’s fine if you’re comfortable.” He bent down, scratched my cat behind his ears, and then grinned up at me. “But you should bring a pair of socks. And your coat. We’ll be outside at least some of the time.”
“Socks?” I repeated, dumbfounded. I may not dress all that fashionably these days, since it was next to impossible to find trendy clothes in my size, but I would never be caught dead wearing socks with my strappy pumps.
“Yeah, socks.” Keith let out a laugh. By this point, my cat was seriously head-butting him, trying to get closer for more attention. Keith picked him up and carried him inside so he could close the door, forcing me to take a few steps back or else he would run me over. As soon as he was in Keith’s arms, BC did his Ragdoll thing and flopped over, playing dead, or as close to it as you could believe with the intense purring coming from him.
“Just trust me,” Keith said. “Get a pair of socks. This little guy and I’ll be fine while we wait.” He made himself at home, heading into the living room and taking a seat on the couch before I could warn him about the cat hair.
Granted, he was already getting covered because BC was writhing all over him like the little attention-whore freak he was. It was too late for me to do anything about it. I went back into my bedroom, grabbed a pair of socks from the bureau and shoved them into my purse, popped into the closet
At least he was only going to hang out under my skirt. I’d just have to be sure I didn’t sit down or I’d have fur all over my butt and back, and he’d jump up on my lap in an instant.
My other cat, Richard Armitage, was an orange Maine Coon with tabby markings, and he was presently trying to disappear in the hidey-hole I’d made for him in my closet when we’d moved in here. Richie was as sweet as could be but scared of his own shadow. As soon as I’d started going through my closet for something to wear, he’d figured out that something was up, and he hadn’t liked it, so off to his hidey-hole he’d gone.
He would have ended up there anyway once Keith arrived and knocked on the door because, of course, anyone knocking on the door was a terrifying thing for my Richie. I figured it was for the best that he was already in his safe spot. Maybe he wouldn’t get too worked up this time.
I wasn’t going to hold my breath over that one, though. He was eight years old and I’d had him since he was a kitten. Some things just weren’t going to change.
Before I succumbed to the desire to sit, a knock sounded at my door. A moment of panic seized me—fleeting, but entirely real—and I nearly decided to pretend I hadn’t heard it. BC had other ideas, though. He let out an excited meow, raced out from under my skirt, and headed straight for the door, which he slammed his head into before pawing at it as though he was trying to dig to China.
I fought the urge to curse at my cat as I crossed over to open the door. Keith was leaning against the doorjamb in dark jeans, a black sweater, and a leather jacket that fit him so well I nearly licked my lips. The next time I saw Tanya, I was going to give her a piece of my mind for putting the idea of sex on a stick in my head in regard to this man because I kept thinking about licking him the way I would a popsicle.
“Hi,” he said lazily, but his eyes were anything but lazy as they roved over my whole body. “I thought I said you should wear something comfortable.”
BC crossed the threshold to weave in and out of Keith’s legs, purring loudly.
I fidgeted with my scarf, tugging the long ends down so I could cross it over my belly, as though that could hide anything. “I’ve spent half my life in skirts and shoes like this. Should I go change?” Not that I wanted to delve back into that closet, especially considering it had taken me so long to decide on this to begin with. It was a daunting prospect on a good day.
“No, it’s fine if you’re comfortable.” He bent down, scratched my cat behind his ears, and then grinned up at me. “But you should bring a pair of socks. And your coat. We’ll be outside at least some of the time.”
“Socks?” I repeated, dumbfounded. I may not dress all that fashionably these days, since it was next to impossible to find trendy clothes in my size, but I would never be caught dead wearing socks with my strappy pumps.
“Yeah, socks.” Keith let out a laugh. By this point, my cat was seriously head-butting him, trying to get closer for more attention. Keith picked him up and carried him inside so he could close the door, forcing me to take a few steps back or else he would run me over. As soon as he was in Keith’s arms, BC did his Ragdoll thing and flopped over, playing dead, or as close to it as you could believe with the intense purring coming from him.
“Just trust me,” Keith said. “Get a pair of socks. This little guy and I’ll be fine while we wait.” He made himself at home, heading into the living room and taking a seat on the couch before I could warn him about the cat hair.
Granted, he was already getting covered because BC was writhing all over him like the little attention-whore freak he was. It was too late for me to do anything about it. I went back into my bedroom, grabbed a pair of socks from the bureau and shoved them into my purse, popped into the closet
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