Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
"Can I help you find something?" a guy around my age asks. He’s wearing a vest with the pet store's logo on it.
"I was—"
"I've got her." I turn at the sound of a familiar voice, thinking it can't be him.
"Okay, yeah," the store clerk sputters, stepping back. "If you need anything—"
"We're good," Mr. Adair says, dismissing him. I watch the guy quickly leave the aisle, but I can't judge. I did the same thing.
"You followed me," I blurt out.
He’s ditched his suit jacket and tie and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing a tattoo on his forearm. How is he more intimidating now than before?
"You ran out."
"I didn't run.” I haven't done that since freshman gym class. “It was a brisk walk."
"Right." He smirks, shaking his head.
"Did you chase me down to make me go back?" I shift on my feet.
"No, I wanted to check on you."
"Really?" I eye him suspiciously. How could he possibly care how I’m doing?
"Yes." He steps closer. "And I wanted to let you know that you don't have to worry about Bob Wilson any longer."
"Really?" I say again.
"Yes, really. What he’s asking you to do isn't legal."
"But does that matter when you have money?" It’s a genuine question, because in my experience, people like Mr. Wilson can get away with whatever they want.
"I suppose you're right." As I thought. "But on this, I've got you."
He's got me? What does that mean? I’m sure I’m looking too deeply into it because I often do, but he seems certain.
"Okay, well, I guess in that case, thanks.” He ignores my subtle goodbye and reaches out to pet the kitten.
"Who do we have here?" He bends down a little as he gently rubs behind the kitten's ear.
"No name yet. I found him this morning," I respond, unable to be rude. He might be Mr. Wilson's lawyer, which likely makes him a bloodsucker, but so far he's been nothing but nice to me. In my experience, when people are nice to me, they have an angle. I'm not sure what his is yet, but I’m not letting my guard down completely.
“He’s cute.” Mr. Adair takes him from me and pulls him close to his chest. Holy hell, the man was already hot, but now he's cuddling a kitten, and it’s too much. He's a bloodsucker, I remind myself.
“I’m actually not sure if he’s a he. I tried to check, but I couldn’t tell.”
“Probably needs to see a vet. I think there’s one next door.” Mr. Adair looks down like he’s checking him over.
“I’m sure you need an appointment.” Not to mention I can’t afford that. Hell, I haven't been to a doctor in a few years.
“I bet we could get in.”
“Right,” I laugh. “Maybe you, but not me.”
“But I’m right here,” he says, not understanding.
I puff out a breath, realizing that this guy is going to need me to spell it out for him.
“Listen, I can’t afford to take him to the vet right now. I’m not sure I can afford food or any of these adorable toys.” I flick one of the mouse toys in frustration, and it makes it squeak. The kitten's ears perk up, and he searches for where the sound came from.
"I can."
"Good for you." I let out an awkward laugh.
"That came out wrong.” He looks genuinely sorry as he steps closer. “How about I make you a deal?"
"Whoa." I hold my hands up. "There will be no more verbal contracts for me."
"That wasn't a verbal contract you had with Bob. It was bullshit." He actually appears pissed about it, which softens me toward him. "What if we both raise this kitten together?"
"Is this some kind of joke?”
"We could be co-parents."
"To a cat?"
He shrugs. "Why not? I've always wanted a pet, but work keeps me busy. I could see him when I can but also pay for whatever he or she needs."
"You’re serious?" The possibility of being able to keep the kitten is almost too much to hope for. There has to be a catch.
"Yes."
"I don't know." I shift on my feet in indecision. I want to take the deal, but I shouldn’t.
"What do you have to lose?"
"A kitten?" The very kitten that he has in his grasp right now. I’ve always heard possession is nine-tenths of the law.
"All right, I’ll draw up a simple contract that gives you full custody,” he says, and I snort a laugh.
"That's nutty, you know that, right? It’s like we’re a divorced couple."
“We’re not a divorced couple,” he responds quickly.
My eyes go to his ring finger, and I remember when I googled him that I hadn’t seen anything about a wife. Although I was searching about his career more than anything.
“We’ll be partners.”
“Partners?” I nervously bite my bottom lip.
“We can get all the supplies our new bundle of joy needs and get a checkup. I’m sure there will be shots and other things the vet needs to do.”