Page 20 of Keystrokes and Kittens

“Absolutely. I see there are extensive notes on what to do. I’ll set my alarm for every three hours. If I don’t wake for some reason—and there’s really no reason for me not to—Tibby will nudge me. Go to bed, Sam. I hate to say you look dreadful—but you sort of do.”

I didn’t even try to put a label on how that made me feel. I yawned again. “Okay. Thank you. Both of you.” I turned my attention to Noah. “Can you let me know how much I owe?”

Noah blinked. “Owe? Oh. No charge. Tonight, I’m here as a friend.”

I squinted. Then I turned my gaze to Soren.

Who blushed.

Okay. So Soren’s arranged to pay. Or something. I can make a fuss or I can be gracious.Graciousness won because otherwise I was liable to say something appalling. “Thank you both. Soren, sleep in. I’ll take care of the kittens in the morning.” With that, I headed upstairs.

Tempted as I was to leave the door open a fraction so I might hear the conversation between the two men, that felt wrong. So I shut the door. I opened my suitcase and pulled out my pajamas. Then I went to the bathroom and did everything I needed to do—even as I almost fell asleep while brushing my teeth.

I plugged in my phone, double-checked the alarm, crawled into bed, and was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

So the alarm blaring eleven hours later was a shock. I’d been in the middle of a very weird dream about talking cats and, afterI silenced my alarm, I lay in bed trying to remember the dream. Trying to piece together the fragments into something coherent.

Nope. Nothing.

I’d forgotten to close the blinds last night and the weak morning light filtered through the slats. Beyond that, the lake lay calm. For just a moment longer, I let that stillness resonate through me.

Then I remembered the kittens, the store, and Quinta.

In other words, I had a shit ton to get done today, and lazing about in bed wasn’t one of those things. As I stretched, though, a sense of well-being permeated me. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept a full eight hours—let alone eleven.

Obviously, I needed it. Now I need to get moving.

I rolled out of bed and stripped on my way to the bathroom. After a very invigorating shower, I dried my hair, applied some gel, and then headed back to the bedroom. I pulled a uniform out of the suitcase and smacked myself up the head for not hanging it in the bathroom while I’d showered so at least a little bit of steam might’ve helped with the creases. Oh well. I worked in a pet store. Wrinkles were just part of the job.

On went the khakis and my uniform shirt. I checked myself in the mirror one more time before unhooking my phone from the charger and heading out of the bedroom. I tiptoed down the stairs, only to find Soren in the kitchen. At the stove. Cooking. “Uh, hey.” I gave a little ineffectual wave. “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?”

He shrugged. “Actually, I got three really good sleeps between feedings. Turns out I can wake up, feed kittens, and go right back to sleep. Anyway, I had a brilliant idea for my work and so hopped on the computer to type it out. Then I realized I was hungry and so came in here to make eggs and toast. CanI interest you in some?” He met my gaze with light-brown luminous eyes.

I pursed my lips.

A slow blush crept across his cheeks. Finally, he sighed. “I really did have a good idea and I really will go back to sleep after the kittens are fed. Is it really so bad that I want you to eat properly?”

“I’m twenty-nine. Not nine.” Even as I said the words, though, a pain shot through my chest. An image. Of Quinta—at nine. Completely helpless and alone in the world. Reliant on her young uncle to care for her. I’d spent every one of the days since then worrying that I’d somehow fucked it up.She made it to college on a scholarship. She’s got friends and has good grades. I need to remember to breathe.I cleared my throat. “Sorry. That was rude. I would love eggs and toast. Is there something I can do?”

“How about slicing a tomato?” He offered an easy grin while gesturing to the cutting board with both a sharp knife and a juicy tomato.

Tibby lay beneath the table. She gave me the once-over, snuffed, and laid her chin on her paws.

“Is she okay?”

“She’s a little miffed she doesn’t get to see the kittens and has to spend so much time in my bedroom. I convinced her that chew toy I bought for her yesterday was just as good as licking kittens.”

“Did she buy it?” I sat at the table and started cutting tomato slices.

“Jury’s out. That said, she’s certainly chewing the thing when she’s in my room alone. Better that than my shoes.”

“Oh. Does she chew your shoes?” I glanced under the table where she was either asleep or playing possum with her eyes closed.

“Nope. There was the great umbrella caper, but that was when she was a puppy. Before Noah trained her.” Soren put a plate next to me with scrambled eggs and dark toast—exactly my favorite.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Peanut butter? Jam? Ketchup?”