Page 2 of Shades of You

“Never would’ve guessed,” I shot back, frowning as it began to knead my leg in earnest, those tiny daggers a rhythmic torture. The damn thing had the sort of face that could make a guy forget he was supposed to be tough. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“It happens to be a him,” she replied, a playful lilt in her voice. “I picked the black one because it matches your wardrobe. You two will match for those stealthy midnight snacks, though I drew the line at tattooing him. Meet your new roommate.” There was a teasing glint in her eye as she leaned one hip against the counter.

“Stella, you can’t be serious!” Ignoring her remark about my tattoos, I peered down at the little animal that had made itself comfortable on my lap. The kitten’s short black coat blended in with my black jeans and its four white paws—socks, Stella would call them—moved with its rhythmic motions. Despite myself, I gently lifted the kitten and inspected its front paws. Sure enough, each paw boasted an extra toe. “A Hemingway cat? Really?”

“Really.” After padding across the room, she stoppedbefore me and folded her arms in satisfaction. “You’re a Markham, Hunter. And every Markham needs one of our legendary cats—even if they’re living off the Key.”

I’d completely forgotten that Pilar, the current resident Hemingway cat at the Big House of Calypso Key, had given birth to a litter. Rolling my eyes, I set the kitten down on the couch beside me. He quickly scrambled back onto my lap. “And what makes you think I need this thing?”

“Because it’s time you settled into more than just this apartment.” Stella’s voice softened, her determination to play big sister evident in her stance. “Having something to care for can change a person. It’s good for the soul. His name is Pedro.”

“Pedro?” I echoed, unable to suppress the twitch of my lips. “The Sun Also Rises, huh?”

Stella gave me a deliberate nod. “See? It’s fate. You’re the only person I know who would get that Hemingway reference right away. The book is about starting fresh and finding your place. And now you’ve got a kitten named after a character. Seems fitting, don’t you think?”

“All our cats have the names of Hemingway characters.”

Our. Such a small word.

And yet one I wasn’t sure I could use yet.

I sighed at the small creature purring contentedly on my thighs. My skeptical gaze met Stella’s unwavering one, and I knew resistance was futile. “Fine,” I relented, scratching behind the kitten’s ears and eliciting a louder purr. “But if he starts using my favorite boots as a scratching post, I’m giving him back.”

“He’d never do that.” Then her smug smile fell, her face becoming serious. “But he’ll always have a home on Calypso Key. Just like you do.”

I concentrated on Pedro, breathing through a sudden swell of emotion that had come from nowhere.

Stella seemed to realize I needed a moment and crossed the room back to the open kitchen. She returned carrying the canvas bag, and her smile reappeared as she handed it to me. Shiny food and water bowls, along with a small bag of dry cat food, were nestled inside. “He’s going to need to eat, and I figured you wouldn’t have anything suitable.”

“Gee, you think?” I grumbled, peeking at the feline treasure she had brought. The kitten, meanwhile, seemed quite content making himself at home on me.

“Wait here,” Stella said with a grin that meant more surprises were in store. She opened my front door and disappeared briefly, then reemerged with a brand-new litter box and a box of litter. “Can’t forget this!”

“Well, aren’t you helpful,” I deadpanned, but secretly, her thoughtfulness touched me. It was just like Stella to make sure every detail was accounted for.

After patting the litter box, she straightened. “Hey, you ready for our game? The Marathon Marlins aren’t pushovers, you know.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Good. We need your big muscles for some serious slugging.” She flexed an arm in imitation of me at bat. “If only we had a better pitcher than Gabe…”

I snapped my gaze up to meet hers. A silent understanding flickered between us, heavy with unspoken thoughts about Evan still refusing to step into the role he was made for. The role I had ended permanently. We held the look for a heartbeat too long before each of us averted our gazes. “Gabe’s a great pitcher, and we’ve won our first threegames.”

“I know. He’s just been grumbling that he’s too old to play anymore.”

I snorted. “Give me a break. He’s all of thirty-seven.” Gabe was the eldest of our siblings, with Stella next. At thirty-two, Evan was less than a year older than me, partly why we’d been inseparable growing up.

She panned her gaze around my mostly unpacked living room, pausing at my fully stocked bookshelf. “It might have taken a few months to iron out the details, but here you are!”

I’d found my building with its second-floor apartment several months ago. Such a perfect location was worth waiting for the tenant’s lease to end before opening KeyMark. Now it was mid-January, and we were in full swing.

“Here I am. So how’s Aiden?”

Her eyes lit up like bioluminescent waves at night. “Fantastic! When we were at the farmer’s market last weekend, he got me another orchid. A gorgeous bicolor Cattleya.” Her tone shifted to the reverence usually reserved for sacred things.

“Sounds like a keeper. Aiden and the flower.” I smiled at her laugh. Aiden was good for her, and that meant he was all right by me. He was possibly the only thing Stella was more in love with than orchids or her position as top chef at the aptly named Orchid, our family resort’s fine dining restaurant.

There was thatouragain.

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