Page 17 of Jilted Jock
“Have you named her?”
“Who?”
I pointed to his lap and he stopped like he was embarrassed to be caught petting the cat.
“She needs a name,” I insisted.
He frowned. “Her next owners can pick. She’s just kitty.”
For some reason I hated the idea of him giving her up. I got it – really, I did. It was a constant reminder of his ex, but that wasn’t the cat’s fault.
I wondered if he had any idea what the sight of him with that kitten did to women everywhere. I bet I could snap a photo and it’d be reposted a million times by morning. Heck, I could probably sell it and pay rent for a month.
“You really never had a pet before?”
A small shake of his head. “No. We lived in a small place growing up. Wasn’t a lot of room and my parents both worked long hours.”
“Siblings?”
Another shake of his head and this time he stood and removed his hat. “Is it okay if I leave the boxes there until…” He ran a hand through his hair and looked weary.
“Yeah, of course. It’ll be like an obstacle course every time I come and go.”
One side of his mouth pulled into a smile. “’Night.”
“Good night, Finn.”
The next morning, I was only slightly disappointed when Finn didn’t appear in the kitchen while I poured my coffee and wrote out my gratitude list. I didn’t write down men with kittens, though I thought it, but I decided to write out some possible names for kitty. If Finn didn’t read the list then no big deal, but if he did, then maybe it’d spark an idea for him.
Spot
Lola
Princess
Diamond
Striker
The last one was my least favorite, but I was playing to Finn’s love of soccer. Maybe if the kitty had a name that reminded him of something he loved, he’d transfer some of that love to her.
After work I’d made plans to go out dancing with Aubrey and Bobbi. About six months ago Aubrey had demanded we stop acting like old ladies and get out more. I’d been skeptical at first. Girls night usually meant sipping wine, dance clubs or concerts where cheap beer coated the floor and getting drugs was as easy as knowing which guy to grind against on the dance floor. But Bobbi knew all the good spots. I had no doubt that she and Aubrey had spent a lot of energy on researching places they thought I’d be comfortable. That was just the type of friends they were.
Tonight, we were at a small restaurant on the beach that had a DJ after ten o’clock. No one except us was dancing, but that didn’t bother us. We danced through several songs, singing the lyrics at an obnoxious level, and generally having a fabulous time. When Bobbi broke our circle to go to the bathroom, Aubrey and I took a seat at our abandoned table for a breather.
“How are things at home?” The lift of her eyebrow made what she was really asking crystal clear, but I played dumb.
“Good. Richard is coming in next weekend.”
“Oh no you don’t,” Aubrey insisted. “No changing the subject. How are you doing with Finn freaking McCash sleeping under the same roof?”
“It’s really not that big of a deal. We’re almost never there at the same time. I work all day and he goes out at night.”
“What’s Richard say about it?”
“He doesn’t love the idea, but it helps that you and Chance let him stay with you. He trusts your guys’ judgment.”
“More than he trusts yours?”
