Page 8 of Pickled
I held out the sweaty shirt. “I’m sorry. I’m desperate. Please, let me give you a ride home. I need someone to hold on to this angry cat. It already drew blood.”
Her shoulders softened, and she took the swaddled kitten, murmuring to it as she eased into the passenger seat. She tucked the mail next to the seat, then wrapped both hands around the bundle, kissing the top of its head. “What are you going to name it?”
Choking, I shook my head. “I’m not keeping the cat. Like you said, hopefully someone is missing little sword paws. Can you help me with the community post? I don’t do social media.”
She sighed. “Sure. I can put up the post for you, but in return, you have to promise not to get rid of this cat until we find it a home.”
“Oh, come on.” I groaned. “Who wants a little feral cat?”
“That’s the deal.” She rubbed the kitten’s ears between her fingers. “And you have to take her to the vet to make sure she’s okay. And find out if this is a little girl or boy.”
“Hold on. I think that’s worth a little more than a social media post.”
Her ponytail whipped in the breeze as I followed the curved roadway. “What do you have in mind?”
A few things flashed in my mind, none of them gentlemanly. I cleared my throat and adjusted in the seat, hoping the surge in my cock wasn’t visible through the fabric of my workout shorts. “She, or he, is going to need a litter box and probably a cage or something. Will you come shopping with me?”
“Right now?” She looked at her Apple Watch.
“I’m sure that little thing is hungry, and I’m pretty fond of my fiddle-leaf fig plant. I don’t want him to turn it into a litter box.”
“You’re fond of your fiddle-leaf fig?” Her smile lit up her whole face. Was she making fun of me?
“Yeah. It’s massive, and I’ve never had one thrive like this one—it’s got two new leaves.” I couldn’t hide the excitement in my voice.
“You’re full of surprises, Gideon.” She patted my hand as it rested on the gear shifter. “If we go right now, I can come with you.”
Downshifting, I did a U-turn, and we zipped through the neighborhood. She held the kitten tightly to her perfect…Stop looking at her boobs, you plant nerd. I couldn’t believe I had gone on and on about the fig. I shook my head. At least with the fuzzball there, it gave me an excuse to look at the cute smattering of freckles on her cleavage.
On the way to the pet store, I must have sneaked ten billion glances at Piper. Thankfully, she had no idea. Where her focus was on the cat, mine was on her.
It felt right with this woman in the passenger seat. I couldn’t describe how it felt right, just that it did. The world of professional hockey didn’t exist when I was with her. In a way, she reminded me of Ace’s quirky and cute wife, Goldie. Although, where Goldie was a crunchy granola girl, Piper was more polished. Her nails shone with a sheer manicure, and she had the body of someone who spent hours in a Pilates studio. Even with those differences, there was a familiarity, a softness and warmth that I’d never experienced with a stranger. Or anyone, for that matter.
Ace said he knew that Goldie wasthe onethe first day they met. That he felt it in his guts and had waited for two ferries to pass so he could get on the same one as her. I’d told him it wasn’t his guts, it was his dick, but as Piper swiped her hair behind her ear, I understood was Ace was talking about.
Of course, my dick pulsed when I looked at her, but something else happened too. Butterflies, but not the pre-game variety. These ones were bigger, and their wings beat faster.
I stroked the top of the kitten’s head with my thumb.
Piper looked at me.
Time slowed.
I was the first one to look away, but only because I didn’t want to plow the Porsche through the front window of Whiskers and Paws.
The clerk wasa vet tech and estimatedthe kitten to be about eight weeks. Old enough to be away from its mother, so it could be a lost pet. He was scared but not feral.
Armed with bags of cat supplies and the cat safely contained in a carrier, Piper and I got back into the car.
“That was nice of the clerk to make us these flyers.” She put the package of papers on the dashboard.
“It was.” I reversed out of the parking lot. “Hopefully, we find his real home soon so I can return all this stuff.” The kitten screamed from the confines of his crate. I didn’t hate cats, but I didn’t exactly like them either. Like my father, I thought that cats belonged outside. Now, because of the beautiful woman in the passenger seat, a cat tree hung over the side of my Porsche, and I was taking dagger paws home with me.
4
PIPER
After fifteen minutesof the meow opera coming from the crate, Gideon pulled the car to the side of the road. “I can’t take it anymore.”
