Page 89 of Nine Month Contract
“Oh God, the cat.” I sigh and shake my head. “Sorry, I’ve been calling her Milkshake.”
“Milkshake?” Calder frowns.
“Black-and-white fur…her milkshake brought all the boys to the yard…” I sigh and shake my head. “I was tired when I came up with it.”
A bemused smile lights up his face. “I like Milkshake.”
I gesture up the steps. “Come on up. She’s getting big.”
“She is?” He looks like an excited puppy dog as he follows me into my apartment to reunite with his stray.
I watch him curiously as he drops down on the floor and plays with a frenzied Milkshake, who’s pouncing on him like an old littermate. Calder gave me puppy dog eyes downstairs, but he’s anything but a pup. He’s nearly as tall as Wyatt but has a more severe, chiseled look to his face. And the ink scattered up his arms gives him more edge, making it his whole personality, whereas Wyatt’s ink seems more strategic and intentional.
Calder exudes a bad-boy vibe. If I were to compare him to a dog, I’d probably call him a Rottweiler. Luke definitely has golden retriever energy, and Wyatt…that man is a German shepherd if I ever saw one. Striking, intimidating, protective, and strong. So strong.
My body trembles at the thought.
“Do you care if I hop in the shower?” I ask, taking off my shelterjacket and getting a whiff of my hair. “I’ve been literally at the ass end of a ewe for most of the night and feel disgusting.”
“Oh, I can leave.” Calder gets up to head out, but I stop him in his tracks.
“Please don’t,” I beg, sounding a bit desperate. “She’s been alone all day and could use some attention, and I don’t have the energy for a kitten tonight.”
“Okay, that’s cool,” he says with a lopsided smile and drops back down to play with one of the cat toys I picked up for her the other day.
I wash the stench of barn off and come out twenty minutes later in my fluffy white robe, still towel drying my hair, to find him holding Milkshake on the sofa like a baby in his arms.
I stand over top of him and laugh. “Kittens. They are all kitty crazies one second and comatose the next.”
“She’s snoring,” he whispers, trying not to wake her up. It’s adorable.
“It’s called purring,” I correct with a wink. “And that means she likes you.”
He shrugs, but the glint in his eye as he gazes down at her shows he’s hopeful that’s true.
I sit down on the sofa beside him, propping my elbow on the back of the couch so I’m facing him. “You should keep her.”
“No, I shouldn’t.” He laughs and shakes his head.
“Why not?” I ask with a frown. “Cats are relatively low-maintenance. They don’t need to be let out during the day like dogs. She’s happy here, so I’m sure she’d be happy at your cabin.”
He looks over to me nervously, his jaw muscle twitching under his trim beard. “I’m not as paternal as Wyatt. The minute he got that goat, he was obsessed. Did all sorts of research on it. He’s definitely more qualified for caretaking than I am. I’m more of the fun, irresponsible-uncle type.”
“I don’t know about that,” I reply with a smirk. “I think I see a little bit of a cat dad in you.”
“What if you’re wrong?” His brows furrow as he looks down and drags his finger along the cheek of the kitten. She purrs louder andpresses into his touch while wrapping her little paws around his fingers like she was made for his big, inky arms.
“Why don’t you keep her for a few days and see how it goes? I’ll send you home tonight with all the stuff you need and give you my phone number so you can text me if you have questions. And if it doesn’t work out, we’ll find her a new home. No harm, no foul. And you’d honestly be doing me a favor. Strudel is not a fan of Milkshake. I’ve had to keep him in his cage since I brought her home. He’s due for some stretching.”
The corners of his mouth lift, and he gives a casual shrug. “I guess if you need help, I could do it.”
I smile knowingly. This is a trick I use at the rescue shelter quite often. It’s very rare for a family to ever return a pet they bring home. Animals are just too easy to fall in love with.
People, not so much.
While he snuggles Milkshake, I throw all the supplies he needs for a few days into a packing box, including her litter box, and type my number into his phone. The background photo is a picture of Everly and Ethan, and I have to roll my eyes. This guy has more dad vibes than he’s giving himself credit for.
“Thank you, Trista. I’ll try not to let you down,” Calder says as I walk him to the door.
