Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
She flutters her fingers. “Don’t worry about it. I speak French, too, when I’m mad at all the fucking assholes in the world.”
Unease prickles along the hollow of my spine as I guide the conversation back to his last revelation. “And when did you tell him that? That you were going to find Clyde?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe two or three hours ago,” Bear says. “I told him he wasn’t calling the shots and that I’d find Clyde and him myself and um…” He glances at Nora as he adds in an apologetic voice. “And that I’d smash his face in. I’m not a violent man, I promise, but this guy is just begging for a broken nose. And I was a boxer for a long time before I started caring more about the contents of my brain than the prize money.”
I nod, my unease blossoming into a full-blown sense of dismay. “I’m going to touch base with my handler with all of this. See if we can get backup here within the hour.” Seeing Nora’s eyes widen, I hurry to assure them both, “We’re safe here in the room, but I suspect Rex was using you to get to us, Bear.”
Bear blinks faster, cursing as he apparently connects the dots. “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think.”
“Why would you?” I say, keeping my voice calm and casual, hopefully not betraying the fact that I’m more than a little concerned we’re being hunted by Sweetwater thugs as we speak. “You had no idea someone else had Clyde. You two hang tight. I’ll go see what I can do about backup, and we’ll go from there.”
I turn and stride into the other room, praying I can get this under control before Clyde’s safe birthing haven becomes a scene from The Godfather.
Chapter Twenty-Two
NORA
As Matty leaves the room, Bear’s shoulders sag.
“It’s okay,” I assure him. “Matty will figure it out.”
“I just feel so stupid,” he says, wiping a hand down his face.
“Don’t!” I insist. “Like Matty said, there’s no way you could have known. And we’re safe in here. If we have to, we can stay locked up in this room until they’re able to get someone here to help us. The couch folds out, and you’re welcome to sleep there.” I force a smile. “It will be like a sleepover with your cat, her sweet babies, and two weird strangers.”
He huffs, but his lips crook up at the edges. “You’re not weird. You both seem very nice, actually.” His watch buzzes, and he stands, electrified with concern for Clyde all over again.
He tiptoes over to the closet, moving with remarkable stealth for such a large man, and lifts the corner of the fleece blanket ever so slightly. “Hey there, kiddo,” he murmurs in a low rumble that would soothe me if I were a laboring cat. “You’re doing great. Hang in there. You’ve got this. I’ll be back to check on you again in a little bit.”
He replaces the blanket and turns back to me, whispering, “Nothing yet, but I think she’s close. Her stomach is definitely contracting. I could see it, even in the dark in there.”
I lift my hands, crossing both sets of fingers. “Hopefully soon. I’m dying to see the babies. Are they going to look like Clyde do you think? Did you breed her with another Persian?”
Bear clears his throat. “Um, no, it was kind of an accident, actually. I was at a cat convention and ran into a friend. She and her cat, Hambone, came back to my room for beer and pizza. We all ended up falling asleep and sometime in the night Clyde and Hambone…”
“Discovered their love for each other?” I supply, laughing as he nods. “Well, that’s wonderful for them. I take it Hambone isn’t a Persian?”
Bear shakes his head, a secret smile creeping across his face. “No, he’s a big, sweet orange tabby. Dumb as a box of rocks, but a real lover. Purrs the second Dipsy walks into the room.”
I perk up at the name. “Dipsy?”
He nods. “Yeah, she’s the friend I mentioned. I thought maybe we were going to be more than friends for a while there, but she never returned my texts after the convention. Even when I realized Clyde was pregnant and offered her first pick of the litter…radio silence.” He lips peel away from his teeth. “Sorry if that’s too much information. You’re easy to talk to.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, my voice hushed as I contemplate those tempting words, “Pick of the litter.”
Wow. Could I? Should I? More importantly, how can I not? When I’ve fallen so hard for Clyde in such a short amount of time?
Gathering my courage, I wet my lips and add, “I know this probably isn’t the time or place and you have so much on your mind right now, but…do you think I might be able to reserve a pick of the litter? It wouldn’t have to be first pick. You could even pick the one you wanted me to buy. I just love Clyde so much. She’s the first cat who’s ever made me feel loved and accepted—first animal, really—and I’d be so honored to raise one of her babies. And since they’re her babies, hopefully one of them will like me, too.”