Page 114 of Rules of Association

“That’s a raccoon. What you’re describing right now, is a fucking raccoon.”

I took a step back. “What?No! Ernie is not araccoon!”

He palmed his forehead and mumbled. “You named the damn raccoon Ernie?”

“It’s short for Ernesto.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” He looked at me again with incredulousness dripping from every pore of his face. “I truly don’t know how you’ve made it to twenty-four years on this earth.”

I could tell Connor’s disbelief was genuine. I groaned. Flashes of the little creature I saw roaming around the apartment late at night entered my brain as a cold rush of reality creeped over me. In my defense it was dark out there at night when I took the trash out, but now that I thought about it…Yep, Ernie was a raccoon.Damn. How did I miss that? I thought raccoons were mean and bit people, but every time I interacted with him he… Oh no.

Looking up to Connor, I couldn’t mask the panic in my eyes. “Hey, Con?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t raccoons carry rabies and stuff?”

Another side eye from the man holding a cat. “Why?”

“I may have pet Ernie a few times,” I admitted.

For the second time that night, Connor just looked at me. His resigned, yet horrified expression made me want to beg him to saysomething, but I knew it was better to just let him take his time. Finally, he shook his head and ripped his gaze from mine, his disbelief finally winning over everything else. Pinching the bridge of his nose he said slowly, “You are making my head throb.”

I frowned for only a second, before I shrugged. “I guess we can just ask the vet about rabies or the clap when we get there. I’m keeping the cat.”

Connor burst into a half-laugh, half-groan. But that amazing smile was full as he said, “You don’t get the clap from touching animals, Ceci!”

And there he went, making my heart pang again.

Chapter Twenty-five

CONNOR

I was running a bath for a cat.

Albeit she was now a fully vaccinated, defleaed, and dewormed cat, but a cat nonetheless.

Ceci held strong in her stance on keeping it. Honestly, from the moment I saw the furry thing beside the wheel of Cee’s car, I sort of knew she would want it. As Ernie the goddamn raccoon could probably attest, Cee loved a furry friend. So, a furry friend who chose her first? Close the curtain, especially for one as cute as little Lila here.

Her deciding to keep the cat wasn’t really the problem I was looking to avoid. The fact that Ceci hadn’t gone home in probably four weeks, instead popping in and out to grab clothing or other necessities from her apartment before returning to my place, was the real problem.

“Where is this going to go?” I asked as we stared at the extra-large cat tree in the middle of the pet supply store. We’d finally made it here after getting out of the vet with a sleeping Lila in our arms.

“Um, I was thinking in the living room. You know, beside the small couch, where all the sun comes in,” she said, half bent over as she examined the intricate looking thing, shaking it to test it for sturdiness.

I sucked in a breath.Exactlywhat I was afraid of. “Inmyhouse?”

She straightened, her ponytail flopping against her back as she jerked upright and turned animatedly until she found me. Her eyes bounced from me to the cat in my arms and then back. Her expression moving from confused to soft to confused again. “Of course in your house. What do you mean?”

“I mean she’s not my cat, Ceci. Why would she have a cat tree in my house?” I asked.

She recoiled like I slapped her, looking me up and down like she needed to take inventory of the man that stood in front of her. She wassucha brat. And I catered to her, which made her even more of a brat. “Connor.”

“Celestia.”

“No, don’t youCelestiame! Lila Rose Ferguson-Fernandez needs a two-parent home. I can’t believe you would suggest otherwise,” she said, horrified.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, and I couldn’t help a private laugh from slipping free. She named the fucking cat with her own middle nameanda hyphenated name between the two of us.

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