Page 8 of All the Missing Pieces

“Celia—” The man’s words were cut off by the woman’s shrill tone, but I was still stuck on the single word he’d spoken. His voice. Deep with a rasp that spoke of whiskey and dark promises.

“That cat is going to die of heatstroke!” the woman screeched.

Her words had me snapping out of my lust-induced haze. Hell, I needed to get laid if broad shoulders and a single husky word was doing me in.

Save the Cows thrust a hand toward my van. “That poor creature is trapped inside.”

I followed her hand toward my VW, where Tater was staring down at her with a look of complete disdain on her face.

“It’s barely seventy degrees out,” the man argued.

“Seventy degrees out here means that cat could becookingin that van!”

Tater, clearly affronted by the idea, shifted her weight back so she was balanced on her hind legs. She snagged her nearly decapitated mouse with one paw and threw it at the window.

“See,” Celia demanded. “He’s trying to break free. Now get out one of those Jaws of Life things and break this baby out.”

The man was silent for a long moment, and then he let out a sigh that sounded as if it carried the weight of the world with it. “We don’t use the Jaws of Life for a cat rescue.”

He shifted then, his body canting to the side slightly. The movement revealed two things. Thick scruff lining an angular jaw, with a muscle lining it that was currently fluttering wildly. And a shiny silver star pinned to his shirt.

The hot guy was a hot cop. Even more interesting.

But hot cop had said the wrong thing. Celia’s entire form puffed up as her face turned a mottled shade of red. “This is a living, breathing being. He should be treated with respect. He is worth saving.”

With that she stormed toward a trash can that looked as if it weighed twice as much as she did. Even though it was bolted to the ground, she started yanking on it with all her might.

“Celia,” Hot Cop growled. “Do not make me arrest you.”

“I’ve done my time before. I’m not afraid to pay for what’s right.”

“You chained yourself to a dead tree that was threatening to fall on the library,” the man gritted out. “That’s not exactly Nobel Prize–worthy.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. I would’ve let the show go on because it was an epic one, but I didn’t want the woman to hurt herself. So I cleared my throat. “Excuse me.”

Celia paused her trash can efforts, and the man turned slowly, his eyes narrowing on me. I just smiled in response, giving a little wave. “Hi. This is my van.”

“You left your cat inside tofry?” Celia demanded.

“Tater has AC. She’s just fine.”

Celia released the trash can and straightened. “AC?”

I nodded.

The woman’s entire demeanor shifted. “I’ve heard about this. You can get a separate system for your vehicle that doesn’t run on gas.”

“Mine runs on solar,” I explained, gesturing to the panels on top of my van.

She beamed. “I’d love to get the name?—”

“Celia,” the man growled.

She huffed out a breath. “Just relax, Colt. The cat’s fine. Take a chill pill.”

Colt’s jaw turned to granite. “A chill pill?”

I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing.

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