Page 50 of Keystrokes and Kittens

I almost asked him to clarify. Did he mean Quinta was lucky to have Krista? Or that I’d been lucky to have a friendship with Krista’s mom? Probably the former—because he knew how difficult I found it to relate to people. In the store? Sure. That was my job and livelihood. Outside? Yeah…not so much. Before I could query him, Soren sniffed.

“Oh my God, what is that heavenly smell?”

I grinned. “Rotisserie chicken. Rosemary and herbs. I also bought bean salad, corn on the cob, and mint chocolate chip ice cream. Oh crap, and fresh-baked buns. I left those in the car.”

He waved me off. “When I’m done with Peaches, I’ll run out and get them. Is it possible to eat sooner rather than later? I, uh, forgot to eat lunch.”

I gave him the evil eye. “But I’ll bet you didn’t forget to feed the kittens.”

“Priorities.” He shrugged. Then gave me his most endearing smile. The one he knew I had no defenses against. “But I got everything done in time for you to come home and we can have dinner together. What’s one missed meal?”

I pursed my lips.

His returning smile was a little sheepish. “Okay, I could’ve stopped for a peanut butter sandwich or something. But then my stomach wouldn’t be rumbling now.”

After a sardonic chuckle, I finished up with Jack. “I’m going to run out to the car, grab the buns, and then organize dinner. You’re going to sit and enjoy the peace and quiet that is Peaches when she’s eating.” I gave Soren the evil eye. “Don’t give me a hard time about this.”

This time, he laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He held my gaze. “Might I have a kiss? In greeting? To celebrate that we both survived the day?”

Without any ability to deny him this, I moved to him. I placed my hands on his thighs, leaned over, and gave him a kiss. “Thank you.” I pulled back.

He cocked his head.

“For taking care of them even when you weren’t taking care of yourself.” I wagged my finger and then headed out to my SUV.

Back in the kitchen, I put the corn on the cob in a pot to boil, then set about organizing two plates. I stuck my head back into the great room. “Uh, is your darling allowed a little piece of, you know…”

Soren chuckled. “Is she begging?”

I gestured to her bed where she lay snoozing.

“Oh, well that’s good to know. Actually, she hasn’t had dinner—”

Tibby popped off her bed, stretched, eyed Soren—who still sat with Peaches in his arms—and then settled her gaze on me. Obviously, she understood I was more likely to take care of her.

“Come here, girl. Let’s get you fed.” I headed back into the kitchen with her hard on my heels.

She munched on her kibble as I organized the food and removed the corn when the cobs were ready. “Butter on your corn?”

“Of course.” He chuckled. “Really, is there any other way?”

“If there is, I don’t know it.” I grabbed the butter as well as salt and pepper. I kept meaning to ask Soren if he had any dietary restrictions. He’d asked about mine at the beginning, and I hadn’t thought to reciprocate. Now, that felt like an oversight. Still, if he had the food in his house, then he was probably okay eating it. Or he would’ve said something. Right?

I didn’t know.

Tibby followed me dutifully as I took the plates out to the great room. Soren had put Peaches back in the crate and pointed to Tibby’s bed. Again, dutifully, the dog moved toward it. She spun three times before plopping down with her chin on her paws. And looking directly at us.

I handed Soren his plate.

He smiled. “This is amazing. Thanks so much.”

“My pleasure.” I plopped beside him. “Today has been rather long.”

“Early to bed?”

I shook my head. “Nope. I’ll stay up for the next feeding. You head to bed as soon as you’re ready. I can do the nighttime feeding.”

Soren yawned as he grabbed the cob of corn. “Nope. I get middle-of-the-night feeding. Will you do early morning?” He bit into the corn, and butter dribbled down his chin.