Page 107 of Lucky Laces
We had snacks and drinks in the front, cat-free, room while one of Chrissy’s employees with the rescue talked to us about the work they were doing and their current needs and how the event that night would work (it was part socialization for the cats, part to build word of mouth contacts for the rescue’s needs, and part adoption night to pair up the resident cats and kittens with their forever families).
Once the spiel was complete, and it has to be said, many a checkbook was brought out by the hockey players in attendance (and myself), the fun started.
And though Huddy and I had Jean-Michel’s approval and blessing, such as it was, I was still edgy.
Guys from my team were there—and had seen us.
Their girlfriends and wives and freaking soulmates were there.
The public was there.
Potentially judgy eyes all around.
But…the judgment didn’t come.
Instead, the guys introduced me to their women—those I hadn’t met officially, anyway, Jo and Tiff.We chatted, along with Rory and Attie, and though Chrissy was running around and overseeing all manner of detail, big and small, she stopped and chatted with us too.
And the women’s expressions never turned from pleasant and kind and open toward catty or bitchy or judgmental.
So, even though I spent a lot of that first hour jumpy as hell, searching every sentence and interaction for the smallest hint of derision, eventually—and after two glasses of champagne—I managed to finally calm down enough to enjoy myself.
Which was when Hudson peeled off and left me to my conversations with the girls.
I noted that—the fact he didn’t join the male posse holding court in the senior cat room—until I was comfortable, and fell a little deeper.
God, he’s such a good guy.
The worry in my belly further unknotted, I went from calming down and enjoying myself to having a great freaking night.
Quinn—Jo and West’s son—picked out his cat.Or rather,shepickedhim.
The moment he came in and sat down, the sweet little girl jumped in his lap and made herself at home.There was never a doubt that she was going home with the family she’d claimed, and before long, paperwork was filled out, an adoption fee was paid, and the now family of four were walking out the door with a cat name Mossy (for the green in her eyes).
Rhodes—sporting a bright pink shirt that was absolutely not his color—was a different story.
Mostly because Chloe is a bundle of energy who has her daddy wrapped around her adorable little finger.
Rhodes…well, Rhodes didn’t end up withonecat.
He ended up with two sisters who were just old enough to go home with them that night and whose antics had entertained all the guests this evening as they sprinted through the kitten room, climbed up on furniture, launched themselves at ceiling fans, and just generally created chaos.
Heaven help him.
The man is now completely totally outnumbered.
And that’s a ratio only made worse by the fact that his nanny, Finley—or Finn, for short—is a gorgeous brunette with striking hazel eyes.
She breezed into the rescue, a pair of bright pink cat carriers in her hands and helped Chrissy corral the kittens.
Apparently, she volunteers for the rescue in her free time, and the effective way she caught chaos and carefully ensconced it—times two—into the carriers, definitely spoke to her cat handling skills.
Really, it was so impressive that I considered asking her to break down her wrangling abilities and give me pointers.
They would seriously come in handy when it comes towranglingstubborn hockey players.
I’m thinking that and smiling as I watch Finn, Rhodes, and Chloe exit the building, those pink carriers in Rhodes’s hands, held carefully at his sides.He keeps the door open with his back as Chloe and Finn walk out behind him, their fingers laced, completely focused on each other as they share some secrets that Rhodes obviously isn’t privy to and?—
My breath catches.
