Page 66 of Dodging Bullets

August reached down and laced his fingers with mine. “You already do.”

Lance made a gagging noise. “God, was I this disgustingly sweet?”

I gave him the finger. “Worse.”

We reached a large barn, where the noise was insane, an absolute cacophony. Polly looked so excited, I suspected she’d forgotten all about the impending heat, and the fact we were meant to be courting an Omega. It didn’t matter, though, because August watched her with such obvious heart eyes that I almost laughed.

“You’re already all in, aren’t you?”

He leaned over and kissed me. “From the very first day I stepped into your living room and saw her. I knew then that this was it for me. Nothing else would do.”

I buried my fingers in his hair and kissed him, with all the feelings in my soul. Someone cleared their throat, and I pulled away, flushed. “Then enjoy the day, and know I’m going to spoil you like this every day for the rest of our lives.”

“Here we are,” OJ said loudly, a grin on her face. “Polly, if you ever want a job, you’re more than welcome to come and help me out here. I can’t pay you a lot, but the work is rewarding.”

My Omega’s eyes got so wide, I thought they’d pop out of her head. “Seriously?”

OJ grinned. “Absolutely. Your Pack isn’t the only one with two Omegas getting taken out of action for a couple of days, every two or so months. If I had someone I knew who could take care of the animals while we’re, uh, otherwise indisposed, it would be a weight off my mind. Besides, the guys are sick of being unpaid labor, so I could use some help.”

Polly jumped into her arms once more. “Yes! Thank you!” She looked at me, her excitement dimming slightly. “I’ll have to ask the Pack first…”

I waved a hand. “Sweetheart, whatever you want is yours. We’ll make it work.”

She let out a hushed squeal and nodded. “Then I accept, thank you!”

August gave me a look, and I was beginning to think he was onto us making this a double courting. I hadn’t forgotten him, though.

“In here,” OJ told us. “I’ll leave you to it. This is the most we’ve ever had, and honestly, it’s nearly impossible to be down here giving them all the attention and handling they need. You’re doing me a solid favor.”

When we went in, there were fifteen kittens in a straw-filled horse stall. Some were curled up under a heating lamp, while others were wrestling around or climbing.

Polly melted into a puddle. Grabbing August’s hand, she pulled him down to his knees. Noticing their captive audience, the kittens bounded over, meowing loudly.

“There are cat treats in there too,” OJ called from outside the gate, indicating the picnic basket. “Have fun, kids. Just so you know, they’re all adoptable.” She cackled evilly as she left.

Kitten Picnic had been my idea, because August had told me that he’d had a cat growing up, and he missed him a lot. Theidea was to show him that we were committed to being a Pack by adding another member to the family, a shared pet. But looking at Polly’s face, I was beginning to think maybe it wouldn’t be just a single member being added.

As August lay down in the straw, he was immediately attacked by tiny little floofballs. I lay down beside him, and a sleepy little white kitten with a gray nose crawled onto my lap and went to sleep.

God.I was in love.

I looked down at August, whose eyes were laughing at me. “I think this might have been an error in judgement,” I said resignedly. Polly was giggling as one of the kittens tried to attack her fingers like a fierce predator.

“You think?” August said lightly, a kitten was making biscuits on his chest. “Best bad idea ever.”

Yeah, there’d been a few of those in my life. Raiding that warehouse was undeniably a terrible idea, with the best outcome I could have ever hoped for.

“My favorite kind,” I murmured, leaning in to kiss him. I hoped it was one of many wonderfully terrible ideas we’d make together for the rest of our lives.

Thirty-Eight

Polly

Max had turned down my request to keep all fifteen kittens. No matter how much I pouted, he’d warned me that we couldn’t spend enough time with that many cats, so it would be irresponsible.

I saw his point, but I didn’t like it.

However, when August had said that black cats were less likely to be adopted, I saw Max making a mental tally of how many black kittens were in the batch. Spoiler alert, there were two black ones and one tuxedo—which I argued was almost all black—who had fallen asleep around August’s neck and basically cinched the deal.

---