Page 18 of Keystrokes and Kittens

“Perfect. I’ll return with Tibby in about twenty minutes. If you need more time—”

“Nope.” Noah waved me off. “That’s perfect. We’ll see you then.”

On that note, I headed to my bedroom.

Chapter Five

Sam

“Are you really okay?” Noah eyed me. “You seem super stressed. Is it because you’re here? In Soren’s house?”

“Uh—”

“Or the kittens? Because that’s a huge responsibility. The shelter asked Christian and me to take a litter, and we had to refuse. We just wouldn’t have been able to make the schedule work.”

I rubbed my forehead for the umpteenth time. “I should’ve refused. But she implied they’d die if I didn’t take them.”

Noah frowned. “That doesn’t sound right. But then I don’t know their situation. Possibly they just couldn’t handle any more kittens. It’s really bad this time of year.”

I blinked. “I have to do this.”

“Okay. I’m here to support you. Obviously, Soren’s here to support you. Now, let’s get the crate organized. Do you have enough blankets? You’re going to wind up doing lots of laundry.”

“Oh dear. I didn’t think about that. I—” I winced yet again. “There’s just so much I didn’t think about. I read the articles she sent me, but I don’t think I absorbed enough of it.”

“So let’s go through things one step at a time and figure out what you might’ve missed. Do you have a pen and paper?”

This, I could do. I dug through my knapsack and came up with my notepad and a pen.

“Great. Now, let’s go through this slowly, okay?” Noah grabbed the crate.

I managed a nod, and we spent the next fifteen minutes setting up the crate as well as creating lists of each thing I would need to do and in what order to do it.

Noah never lost patience as I asked what were probably really silly questions. But I needed everything written down. This was how I succeeded at work—by having lists and following them. That ensured everything got done and nothing ever got accidentally omitted.I just hope Soren doesn’t mind following things precisely. My nerves would stretch taut if things didn’t go exactly as they were supposed to. I’d also struggle to keep my stress in check.

“You’re doing great.” Again, Noah pressed a hand to my biceps. He’d once asked me if I was okay with touch—and that I was totally free to say I was uncomfortable. His inherent gentleness had me agreeing to the touch. In truth, I didn’t spend much time embracing people. Well, Quinta being the exception. And Mandy after she had her baby. But every day? Nope. No one wandering in off the street and offering hugs.

“I’ll be okay.” I took a deep breath.

“Are you assuring me or trying to convince yourself?” Noah smiled. “You’ve got everything under control. Soren’s about to bring Tibby in. She’ll sniff the blanket and, if she’s curious, make her way to the closed door of the crate. The kittens are at the back and so she’s not going to frighten them. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” I scratched my jaw yet again. This goatee thing was new, and I wasn’t convinced it would last the week. Always so itchy. At least I’d washed my hands, and I didn’t smell like kitten urine. Yuck.

“All clear?” Soren’s voice rang through the great room.

“We’re good.” Noah called back, even as he bumped me with his arm.

I managed a weak smile.

Soren entered the room with Tibby by his side. On her leash. Not tugging at all.

Noah stepped forward. “Hello, Tibby.”

She plopped onto her butt.

I thought he’d give her a treat, but then I remembered he’d said that once the dogs made it to therapy-dog training, the treats were replaced by praise. Most dogs took to the change easily. That said, a few disgruntled dogs had to be coaxed.

“Good girl, Tibby.” Soren grinned. “Always such a good girl.”