Page 50 of Shifting Sands

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I just … this is not how I thought the night was going to end,” I mutter against his skin.

“Oh, trust me, the night is just beginning,” he promises.

It’s the most romantic and passionate date of my life.

Brandee

Who knew Brew was a cat whisperer?

We finally made our way back to the house, where Brew tied the boat off for the night. I slipped my arms into his shirt while he tugged his jeans on, and we carried the rest of our clothing and shoes and sprinted through the yard to the back door.

Now we’re standing here, breathless, and the tiny furballs—who have spent the last week ignoring, judging, and occasionally hissing at me—are losing their furry little minds over the mountain of a man standing barefoot in the kitchen.

“Oh. My. God,” I say flatly, standing in the doorway as Brew crouches. “What is even happening right now?”

He glances up, grinning. “They’re … saying hello?”

Snowflake is purring loud enough to vibrate the hardwood floor, her delicate white paws kneading the hem of Brew’s jeans like she’s making bread. Felix—the haughty overlord who hasn’t so much as blinked at me in days—is currently headbutting Brew’s shoulder and meowing for his attention.

“I’ve been here for over two weeks,” I remind them loudly. “I feed you. Give you treats. I scoop your litter. And this is the thanks I get?”

Brew, still kneeling, laughs as Snowflake attempts to climb into his lap, and Felix begins chewing on the shoelace of the sneaker he still has in his hand.

“They’re very friendly,” he says, like this is a completely normal and not a deeply betraying development.

“They’re not,” I say, pointing accusingly. “They just seem to like you. Which is rude, frankly.”

He shrugs. “I’ve always liked cats.”

“Apparently, the feeling is mutual.”

I cross my arms, watching this feline lovefest unfold with disbelief.

Snowflake is now sprawled across him while he scratches her belly, a rolling ball of snowy fluff. Her tail flicking in satisfaction.

“I think you’ve been claimed,” I mutter.

Brew looks up at me with mock seriousness. “Guess you’ll have to share me.”

“Tiny little traitor,” I mumble.

He gently strokes Snowflake behind the ears, and she lets out a moan of pleasure.

“Don’t listen to her,” he coos. “You’re perfect angels, aren’t you?”

“Oh my God, they’re turning you,” I groan.

He grins.

I disappear into the bathroom for a second, and when I return, Brew has moved to the couch, and the television is on. Snowflake is still in his lap, and Felix is curled beside him, purring softly.

“Join us,” he beckons me.

“You’re literally covered in cats,” I state the obvious.

He looks down. “There’s room for you,” he says with a smirk.

---