Page 7 of Keystrokes and Kittens

She sucked greedily.

Still more squawking emerged from the box.

“Oh Sam, they’re darling.” Miranda moved over to them. “How cute. And you’re taking care of them? You’re such a sweet man.” She pressed her hand to his biceps. “Is she a tabby?”

“No. White with orange markings. That’s right, sweetheart, keep drinking.” He stared at her with intensity—as if he could will her to consume more.

“And the other two?” Miranda leaned over to gaze into the box.

I eyed Persephone. Who continued to doze.

“Jack is the black and white one. Carlos is the gray kitten.” Sam grabbed a tissue. “Okay, time to pee.”

My eyes shot open.

He rubbed the kitten’s belly and, sure as shit, the kitten peed.

“Nice trick. I wish I’d known that when Tibby was younger. She sure didn’t pee on command like she does now.” I rubbed my girl’s ears.

Sam spared me a glance. Then he tucked Peaches into the blanket and grabbed a squalling Jack. “He’s the second noisiest. I worry about Carlos—he never complains. Dr. Genner said I needed to watch him closely. He couldn’t say more…but I saw he was worried.”

My heart seized. Clearly, Sam cared deeply for the kittens. I couldn’t imagine how he’d handle things if one died. “He’s cute.” I gestured to Jack as Sam fed him.

“He’s sweet. Not as feisty as Peaches. I suspect she’s going to be a handful. Not that I would know.” He sighed. “I’ve never had a cat—let alone three tiny kittens.”

Again, Miranda pressed a hand to his biceps.

This time, I caught a slight wince from Sam. He didn’t pull away—but I would’ve laid money down on him wanting to.

“Can I help you find anything, Miranda? I might not be familiar with the cat section, but I’d be happy to help.”

Sam shot me a look. An expression I chose to read as gratitude.

Miranda gave me a once-over. “Thank you. I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Soren.” I considered giving my last name, but decided not to. She wasn’t likely to need cybersecurity, so giving her a way to find me wasn’t necessary.

“Nice name.” She winked. “Persephone and I know our way around the store.” With that, she sashayed away. No other word for it as she gently swayed her hips.

Sam let out a sigh.

I arched an eyebrow.

He winced.

Give him something.“I understand. I really do.” Except did I? I was working off the assumption Miranda was flirting and Samwasn’t comfortable with that. Of course, I could’ve been reading things incorrectly. I’d never met Miranda, and I barely knew Sam.

“Thank you. She…won’t take a hint.”

“Ah.” I held Sam’s gaze. His dark-brown eyes were luminous—despite the odd, bright light of the store. “Would it help if I pretended to be your boyfriend?”

His eyes widened.

“Or not.” Because, again, I might be reading things all wrong.

He cleared his throat. “Tonight sounds great, Soren. You want to come to my place? We can do takeout. I think I’ll be too tired to cook.”

I wasn’t surprised when Miranda put a bag of kibble and three tins of cat food on the counter. She pivoted her attention to me. “You said you were Sam’sfriend.” An arched eyebrow.