Page 2 of Fangs & Fur

Sure enough, standing tall and ominous, the house is identical to the picture. With steep cobblestone steps leading up to the front porch, and a tall front door, I’m sure creaks on its hinges. The house looks like a cutout from a Tim Burton movie.

Pulling up next to the driveway, I turn my car off and give myself a minute to suck in a few deep breaths, feeling like I haven’t taken a single one since leaving Richard’s place. That was last night, when the fight came to an abrupt stop with his fist through the wall, and Pumpkin cradled against my chest. I have never shaken like that before.

Thinking of my sweet cat, I turn to find him looking up at me with a questioning look. I smile at him and step out of the driver’s seat, collecting his carrier while the rain pelts against my shoulders. I hurry up the steps and onto the porch. Pumpkin's frustrated meows fill the air as he gets sprayed with rain.

“Sorry, P,” I whisper and press my finger to the doorbell, hearing it chime from inside.

The door swings open before my finger can even lift from the button, and I find myself standing before a mysterious, smoldering hot Greek god. With wide shoulders, cords of thick muscle stretching across his chest, and deep indents between his abs that show through his tight shirt, my mouth hangs open.

“Can I help you?” His voice is warm, with a purr that rolls over my skin like a summer breeze. I shiver and slowly draw my gaze up his flawlessly tanned neck to find a standout vein that runs across his throat to meet his chiseled jaw.

I gulp, ripping my sights from the supermodel sharpness of bone and cheeks to meet eyes, as bright as snow.

“I-uh. I’m Noah.” I can barely speak around my tongue that fills my mouth like a wet sock. Jesus, can I get any more obvious?

Towering over me, the man gifts me a kind smile and a chuckle. “Hello, Noah. You haven’t told me how I can help you.”

I could think of more than a few ways he can be of use.

I internally shake my head as my heart pounds so loudly I’m sure he can hear it over the rain. His smile grows into a grin. Even his teeth are perfectly white and straight. Damn, if I had known supermodels lived in Moonfell, I would have moved here much, much sooner.

Sucking in a breath, I finally string together enough brain cells to create a sentence. “I applied for a room here?”

My words come out as a question, and I berate myself for it. If Richard were here to witness my stammering and hesitance, he would have scolded me all night for it.

“Why can’t you just be normal for once? Either you’re a stuttering idiot or a complete chaotic mess.”

Stepping aside, the man opens the door wider. “Of course, come in. I’m Xander.”

I smile back at him and step inside, letting him shut off the noise of the rain as he closes the door with a creak. So it does creak!

Turning from the entryway, I find the interior is rather homey, with velvet couches and dark wooden floors. I notice the unusual, antique-looking paintings covering the walls, each in a golden frame.

“You’re the owner?” My voice comes out sharper than intended. My eyes dart over the polished hardwood floors, the designer furniture, and the art on the walls. “I just… figured someone your age would’ve been renting too.”

Xander’s gaze crosses the house, and for a moment, I panic at the idea that I’ve just ruined my chances of being accepted to live here.

“I am.” The corner of Xander’s mouth twitches as if he’s fighting a smile. “You look like you’ve either got a problem with the house… or me.”

My throat goes dry. His eyes pin me where I stand, silver and sharp and entirely too distracting. There’s no way those are real. He has to be wearing contacts.

“No!” I say far too fast, my voice cracking just enough to humiliate me. I clear my throat and force a smile. “No. Everything‌’s great.”

With an anxious meow, Pumpkin makes himself known. Xander’s gaze snaps to where my cat lies in his carry bag.

“Oh, you have a cat.” Xander’s smile warms. “So do I; she’s somewhere around here.”

My heart melts. Handsome and a cat dad. Swoon!

“He’s very good around other cats, and he’s an indoor-only cat. If that’s okay?” I bite the inside of my cheek as Xander takes a step closer and crouches to get a better look at Pumpkin.

“Of course. May I say hello?” He asks, already raising his finger to the mesh for Pumpkin to sniff.

“This is Pumpkin.” I feel my cheeks heating as I unzip the top of the bag and watch with bated breath as the towering Greek god (I have to stop calling him that) reaches in and carefully pulls Pumpkin from his spot.

My orange tabby purrs as Xander holds him against his chest and scratches him under the chin. For a split second, I envy my own cat being smooshed between Xander’s muscly pecks.

“Let me give you a tour.” Xander doesn’t let go of Pumpkin as he turns for the stairs, slinking into the dimness of the house, and I follow.