Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
“Of course.” I shake my head, but I stop when I realize I'm shaking it no and not yes. Did I mention that I’m a terrible liar? It makes a lot of situations really awkward for me. Carson’s lips twitch, and I know he’s busted my lie. I try to shoot a glare at him. It does nothing.
“I want to be clear. This is all over a cat?” His deep voice sends a shiver through my body.
“As in, another isn’t missing. Just the one, right?” I quickly add to Carson's question so Mrs. Farrol doesn't catch on to how uninterested and annoyed he is. She’d spoken so highly of the man she was hiring to assist me. That we must work together. If she gives him the boot, she might do the same to me.
“Oh gosh, no. Just my sweet baby.” She tucks her handkerchief back in. “Not that it matters. Mousey is the only other cat around here. She’s harder to get rid of than a case of the clap." Mrs. Farrol scrunches her nose at the mention of said cat.
“Mousey?” I repeat. One cat is named His Royal Highness Fitzroy Windsor St. John FuzzyBottom IV, while the other is called plain old Mousey? You don’t have to be psychic to see there’s some favoritism going on around here.
“Yes, she showed up a few months ago.” She waves her hand dismissively. "Fitzroy Windsor was enamored with her. She’d stretch out on the back patio like a harlot. Fitzroy Windsor would sit at the back door and watch her. He wouldn’t come to bed. I had to let her in. She’s always catching and killing mice. Hmm.” Mrs. Farrol smiles for the first time. “Maybe this would be a good time to get rid of her. Send her packing to the pound like the hussy deserves.”
“No! Don’t do that!” I jump up. “I’ll take her. Maybe she could be of help.” It’s not a total lie. I’m not going to let Miss Princess Mousey be tossed to the curb. Yes, I named her princess. If Mrs. Farrol’s other cat gets to be His Royal Highness Fitzroy Windsor St. John FuzzyBottom IV, she gets to be Miss Princess Mousey.
“She could help you find my precious darling? All right. We might finally get something of use out of that floozy.” That perks her up.
“The other cat can be helpful?” Carson's expression is skeptical, one dark eyebrow raised as he looks at me sidelong. I’m used to it. People always doubt my skills, but in time, he will see what I mean.
“Yes.” As if she knows we’re talking about her, the princess comes trotting into the room. She’s beautiful. A pure white fluffy ball with a mouse in her mouth. She drops it. When the mouse makes a dead run across the room, I lift up my feet. Mrs. Farrol lets out a scream.
Mousey plops down. Her job–terrorizing Mrs. Farrol–is complete for the day. She’s going to be a handful.
Purrfect.
3
CARSON
“What is this?” I hold my hands up as a cat jumps into my lap. She’s a fluffy white thing with just the smallest hint of blood in her whiskers.
“A terror.” Mrs. Farrol sniffs, her gaze on the floor where the mouse disappeared under some furniture. “That’s what.”
“Oh, she likes you.” May scratches the cat behind its ears.
It starts purring and settles more fully onto my lap.
“Down,” I tell it. “Get down.”
It digs its claws lightly into my leg, spearing my pants and snuggling low, its green eyes slightly squinty.
“No, he’s just not used to you, that’s all.” May keeps petting it. “You’re a pretty girl. Such a pretty girl.”
“Can you get it off me?” I suspect it might bite me if I try to scoot it away.
“No.” May’s voice goes a little higher as she speaks sweetly to the cat. “This little princess is happy right where she is. She’s the OG princess, aren’t you, darling?”
“Tell that hussy she needs to spill on what happened to my darling baby. Did she have something to do with his disappearance?” Mrs. Farrol leans forward, her gaze narrowing. “Did she lead him astray?”
May kneels in front of me, her hands still on the cat.
Heat swirls in my gut at the way she’s settled before me, her hands dangerously close, brushing against my lap. Fuck, my mind shouldn’t have gone there because I feel my blood shifting southward. The last thing I need is to get hard with a cat in my lap and this delicious woman kneeling at my feet.
“Let’s talk, sweetness.” May looks into the cat’s eyes and goes silent and still.
“What–”
“Shhh.” Mrs. Farrol waves a hand at me.
I snap my mouth closed. What the fuck is happening?
May nods a few times, then looks puzzled, a small wrinkle forming between her eyebrows. Then she smiles big and giggles. The noises she makes are only giving me more difficulties in the cock department. Shit. How am I supposed to handle this? She’s gorgeous, fucking shining so brightly that I can’t look away, and she’s at eye-level with my hardening dick.