Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Anyway, I wore a spiffy suit and spiffed the rest of myself up too. Patience wore ripped-up jeans and a paint-stained tie-dyed T-shirt with a fuzzy purrmaid kitten on the front. She purposely didn’t comb her hair. Or wash it. It was knotted, ratty, and a tad greasy. And her eyes were bloodshot because she obviously hadn’t slept in the two days it took me to get the legal aspects of the wedding taken care of. She death-frowned and glared at me the entire time.
Honestly, she was going for the pissed-off Patience look, but she just looked beautiful.
Despite her anti-dress-up and anti-ring-wearing protests, she said the words of the vows with conviction as though she meant them, which was enough to convince the poor JP that I wasn’t forcing her into the marriage against her will. Even if she didn’t want it, she did agree to the plan.
With a huff, she wheels her suitcase up to the door.
I have to cut in front of her and unlock it. I have a security system, but for the door, it’s an old-fashioned skeleton key, and it’s the real heavy iron kind because, you know, dramatic effect. Patience’s eyes widen, and she makes a disgusted snort because she loves skeleton keys. Every good story has a skeleton key, at least in her opinion.
I throw the doors open and let the full glory of all the mushroom goodness hit her as she stands there. It’s late in the day since we caught an afternoon flight out of Michigan, and the sun is hitting the stained-glass windows on the back side of the house just right. That was the architect’s idea, and it was great. There’s nothing quite like all that radiant, colorful beauty. The sunsets are incredible out here, and these windows bring them inside at every hour of the day.
It even makes Patience audibly gasp.
And then.
And then, she spots Bitty Kitty.
“Oh my god! Ah—”
Bitty Kitty doesn’t like loud noises, so I get my hand over Patience’s mouth before she screams. Literally, right before. I feel the warm puff of air against my palm. Her body trembles so very close to mine, and it makes my happy meat stick do a happy meat stick happy dance in my jeans. Not a good thing, and not when I’m so close to Patience. It’s her proximity, the smell of crab apples in her hair, and the slightly masculine spice of her deodorant. It’s also the heat of her body and then the way she drools all over my hand on purpose a minute later.
Bitty Kitty comes running, shaking her poofy tail at us. She doesn’t stomp the ground, which she only does when she’s upset. Not that it would do her any good anymore. I got her as a baby, rescued when I heard her crying in the woods after her mom was hit by a car on the side of the gravel road. I only found her because I was out for a bit of a hike, exploring my new property. I’ll never forget the sound of those cries. I searched for her for three hours, not knowing where it was coming from. She was so little, and her eyes weren’t even open yet. She was cold and covered in ant bites, so I stuck her in my shirt, giving her immediate skin-to-skin contact to get her body heat up. It was a long walk back to the house, but I held her there the whole way. Then, I filled up a hot water bottle, took a blanket, popped her in a box, and took her to the vet in Seattle.
On the way down the gravel road, in roughly the same area, I saw the skunk that had been hit.
I don’t know if there were other babies. It seemed odd that she was alone, but I did search the entire area where I found her before I left, and there was nothing. No other cries.
“You have a skunk for a pet?” Patience spins on me. She doesn’t appreciate that I didn’t warn her. I should have. Maybe I should have told her about all this waiting on the other end for her.
“I…yeah.” I rake a hand through my hair, then pat my thigh, and Bitty Kitty comes running. She basically leaps up into my arms when I bend down, and I scoop her up. She snuggles into the side of my neck, nuzzling me with her snout and giving me little licks all over. “Her mom died, and I raised her. The vet fixed her up and got me everything I needed to keep her alive when she was so tiny. I tried to find a rehabber, but everyone was so full. That tends to happen in the spring. The vet couldn’t keep her there, and no one proper would help me out. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to her, so I raised her, and by then, there was no way she could have gone back to being a wild skunk. There was nothing wild about her. I was her mommy from the minute her eyes opened. They’re more like cats than you’d think. You can get them de-skunked, so she can’t spray anymore. She’ll just stomp the ground when she doesn’t like what you’re doing.”