Page 143 of Sweet Caroline
Gus’ black cat lumbers into the living room, still wearing the jingle-bell collar and Santa vest from earlier.
“Hey, there’s my buddy!” Miles jumps up from the couch to scoop the cat into his arms, then sinks back into the seat beside me, slouching low with the furball on his chest. “It’s about time ol’ Lumps joined the party.”
“Lumps?” I let the cat sniff my hand, then give it a tentative scratch around the ears.
“Miles didn’t tell you about Lumpy?” Gus asks. “Well, his real name’s Coal, but nobody calls him that.”
Miles makes a snuffled sound as Lumpy headbutts his nose.
“Aww, Lump of Coal. I get it,” I say, snuggling back into Miles’ side and helping myself to a few more strokes of the cat’s silky black fur.
Already purring, Lumpy makes a half-turn and settles onto Miles’ chest like it’s the best seat in the house.
Miles quirks a brow my way. “He’s basically my mental health mascot.”
“But wait,” I start, turning to Gus, “isn’t a lump of coal a punishment? Miles here isn’t looking terribly punished.”
Quite the opposite; he’s grinning.
“Nah, pretty sure he’s suffering horribly,” Olena deadpans. “He’s way overloaded with cuteness.”
“Aw, but this isn’t even his cutest outfit,” Miles says, glancing at me. “Speaking of which,” he adds, lifting his chin at Gus, “did you get the new one?”
“The new one?” Gus asks, sounding equal parts weary andamused as he sets his drink down on the coffee table. “As inanother one? Dude, you gotta stop buying my cat ridiculous costumes.”
“Fuck that!” Miles says before handing me the cat and pushing off the couch. He jogs to the front door and opens it, then lets out a victorious laugh. He shuts the door and strolls back inside, beaming as he tears open the package. “Thought it was coming today.”
“By all means, open my mail,” Gus deadpans.
“Hey, I bought the damn thing.”
“Okay, I’m confused,” I say, looking to Olena and Jude for an explanation as Lumpy settles onto my lap, still purring. “What’s happening?”
“Someone entrusted Miles with a credit card,” Jude explains with a smirk, then takes a sip of his drink.
“Fuck off,” Miles says through a chuckle. “This is within my entertainment budget.”
And, when he manages to wiggle the indulgent cat’s paws and tail through the little plush getup, I know it’s money well spent.
“Oh my God,” I say. “He’s the world’s cutest dump truck. Or I should say,Lumptruck!”
Miles lights up at the pun. “Lump truck? You’re fucking perfect. C’mere.” He presses a kiss to my forehead, squeezing me closer.
Looking amused, Gus reaches over to pat Lumpy’s back. “Isn’t this a little on the nose, though? Old Lumps already has a dump truck ass, dude.”
Miles puts on a horrified face, covering Lumpy’s ears. “Don’t body-shame my chonky boy! There’s nothing wrong with having a badonkadonk.”
Gus holds up his hands. “Hey, I’m not arguing with that. You know I like big?—”
Miles cuts him off, eyes wide. “Don’t you fucking sing!”
32
MILES
We crash against the elevator wall and I shove my hands under Caroline’s sweater, needing to feel her skin. The last of my restraint came apart somewhere between the lobby and when the doors slid shut and we were finally, properly alone. I gave in, letting myself get lost in her—nearly taken out by each mind-melting stroke of her tongue. I’m practically panting with need as I grip her bare waist, my thumbs curling to tease and tug at the waistband of her jeans.
God, her skin… Yes.
