A Love Catastrophe Read Online Helena Hunting

Categories Genre: Chick Lit, Contemporary, Funny, Sports Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
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“I’m sure he always wants to be where you are. And dogs can sense when there’s something up with their owners. Cats are the same.” Her smile wavers, and she looks down at her hands and twists the ring on her middle finger, then nods toward the other end of the hall. “Anyway, enough of my nattering, off to bed for you.”

“’Night, Kitty.”

“’Night, Miles.”

The exhaustion sweeps over me again as I step into my bedroom. I manage to get my dress shirt and my pants off, but I don’t bother brushing my teeth before I climb into bed, oddly reassured that Kitty is down the hall.

chapter nine

ALL THE EMBARRASSING

MOMENTS

Miles

I wake up to a wet nose against my cheek and terrible breath. My eyes pop open, and Wilfred’s concerned face comes into focus. “Hey, buddy. Is it time for breakfast already?” I scratch behind his ear and roll over onto my back, glancing at the clock on the nightstand.

My alarm is set to go off in two minutes.

It’s typical for me to wake up a couple of minutes before my alarm, mostly because Wilfred functions like a dog alarm. His tail thumps on the floor, clearly excited that it’s morning and his bowl will be full as soon as I get my ass out of bed.

I close my eyes again, positive I could fall back to sleep and stay that way for several more hours. But his whimper and another nose nudge remind me that if I stay where I am, I’m going to get a face bath. With a tongue that’s likely licked a set of balls recently. Seems like maybe cats and dogs aren’t all that different after all.

I throw my covers off and trudge to the bathroom. A nagging feeling that I’m forgetting something important tickles the back of my mind, but I’m still groggy and only half awake. Wilfred follows along and plunks himself down in the middle of the bathroom, tail wagging, panting happily as he watches me angle my semi down and relieve myself. I check my reflection in the mirror as I wash my hands.

The allergic reaction. My face is back to normal, no more puffy lips or hives. I’d like to find out sooner rather than later what exactly I’m allergic to so I can avoid a subsequent reaction. If this is what happens every time I try to fill a box, cleaning out my mother’s house is going to be a serious hazard to my health.

I leave my worries in the bathroom and head down the hall, Wilfred’s nails clipping along on the floor as he trots after me. When I reach the kitchen I’m surprised—but probably shouldn’t be, as memories of last night filter through—to find Kitty sitting at my kitchen table with a coffee cup in her hand and yesterday’s paper in front of her.

“Hey.” I run a hand through my hair.

She startles and coffee nearly sloshes over the rim of her cup. She recovers, though, and her gaze lifts from the paper to me, standing in the middle of the open-concept living room. Her eyes flare and move over me, cheeks bursting with color. “Oh! Hi!” Her voice is high pitched, and her gaze darts to the side, then bounces back to my waist, and away again. Her face grows redder by the millisecond.

Which is when I realize I’m only wearing boxer briefs and a white T-shirt, and I’m still sporting my morning semi.

I drop a hand in front of my crotch. “Shit. Sorry. I forgot you were here. I’ll be right back!” I spin around and rush down the hall to my bedroom.

Wilfred barks once and follows me halfway down the hall before stopping, probably confused.

I make sure he’s not on my heels before I slam my door shut and berate myself for being an idiot and not putting on pants before I left my bedroom. But in my defense, my brain is slow and sluggish, probably from all the drugs they gave me last night.

When I return to the kitchen, Kitty is no longer sitting at the table. For a second I think she’s left, or maybe she’s hiding in the spare room. But I find her on the other side of the kitchen, next to Wilfred’s bowl, where she’s pouring kibble into the dish. He waits impatiently, tail wagging so vigorously that his entire butt is swaying back and forth. She murmurs to him, words I don’t catch because her voice is too low.

He waits until she gives him the go-ahead before he shoves his face in the bowl, tail expressing his delight. She gives him a quick pat on the back before she turns around. “Oh!” Her gaze darts from my face down to my waist and back up again before shifting to the side. “Hey. Hi. I made coffee. I hope that’s okay.”


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