Chapter 6 #3
Beef takes advantage of the brief distraction to move in closer, backing Logan into the living room.
I dash around the counter to get between them, flinching when my sudden movement sparks another hiss out of Beef as he lunges at me.
Logan grabs me and tugs, putting himself between me and my cat. “Move over there,” he growls, pointing to the other end of the living room. He keeps his arm in front of me, almost like he’s trying to protect me until I can get to safety, but my feet are glued in place as I gape at him.
Beef blinks, flicking his gaze from Logan to me and back again. Either he’s trying to decide who to attack first, or he’s rethinking his stance on our visitor. His fur starts to settle, though he’s still tense.
“Savannah, you need to move before it hurts you.” Logan slowly slides his right leg back, shifting more of his weight to his left leg without once taking his eyes off Beef.
My jaw drops, and I grab his arm. “Don’t you dare kick my cat, Logan Callahan!”
His wide eyes jump to me. “I wasn’t going—”
“You were!”
“I wasn’t—” He flinches when Beef takes another step forward, his big paw audibly hitting the floor. Then Logan’s eyebrows pull together. “What’s wrong with its feet?”
I frown and look at Beef. “What?”
“Its feet. They don’t look normal.”
I happen to love Beef Wellington’s irregular feet, so I take offense to that. “They’re called toes, Crocodile Dundee. You have them too.”
Logan turns his head to roll his eyes at me, and that’s when Beef pounces, leaping straight into the man’s chest and knocking him onto the couch next to us. My shout matches Logan’s as I instinctively shrink back, but before I can get a hold of myself and rescue Logan, the unthinkable happens.
Beef Wellington starts purring.
Logan, sprawled at an angle with his arms flailed out, is barely breathing as he stares at the cat who has latched himself onto his shirt with his claws and settled in, purring like a freight train.
“Get. It. Off. Me.” Logan growls each word through clenched teeth and keeps his gaze on the cat like before. Terrified to blink or move.
I reach an unsteady hand forward, moving cautiously. Beef has never been violent with me, but he’s been acting strangely the last couple of weeks and could do anything. His eyes are closed, so I just have to move slowly enough that he doesn’t hear me.
“Ow!” Logan holds a hand up. “Stop. Claws…”
Beef turns yellow eyes to me and blinks slowly.
I take a step back.
Both cat and Logan relax.
Just to make sure I know what’s going on here, I step forward again, stopping when Beef digs his claws into Logan’s chest. If I step back, he retracts them. All the while purring like a diesel.
On my next step forward, Logan growls low in his throat and glares at me. “Will you stop?” he grinds out. “It clearly doesn’t want you coming close!”
“It is a he,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “And he’s polydactyl, which means he has extra toes. Six instead of five on the front, and five instead of four on the back.”
Logan’s eyes shift to the rumbling cat, and to my shock he picks up one of Beef’s abnormally large front paws.
The cat doesn’t react, closing his eyes again now that I don’t seem to be a threat anymore.
“I think you may be overcompensating, mate,” Logan mutters as he gently squeezes Beef’s toe beans, spreading his paw out between his fingers and looking at what I call Beef’s “thumbs.”
“Um.” I glance at the oven behind me, realizing I forgot to set a timer. I’ll have to guess when it’s done, but in the meantime, there’s a rugby player stuck on my couch, and I don’t know what to do with him. “I’m sorry about my cat. Again.”
Logan grunts. “He’s not so bad when he’s not being a devil.” His fingers move from Beef’s paw to his head and start scratching, and the cat’s purring somehow gets louder. “He’s proper heavy, though.”
Laughing weakly, I settle on a stool and watch as my cat stretches out along Logan’s torso and rolls, presenting his belly for scratches.
It took over two weeks before Beef did that to me.
“Yeah. On the days he decides to like me, he practically suffocates me every night by doing what he’s doing to you.
I don’t have a ton of muscle to protect me from his girth. ”
“You seem to think I have plenty to spare,” Logan mutters.
“Oh, you know full well how beautifully built you are.”
His eyes meet mine, dancing with amusement.
He actually looks a lot like my cat, with his rusty brown hair and light eyes, and they’re both monstrously large without being overweight.
They’re quite the sight together, and I wish my phone was closer so I could take a picture.
Two giant grumps who think way too highly of themselves.
But then, for the first time since I met him, Logan smiles.
I nearly fall off my stool because holy crap that’s a smile.
It transforms his entire face, lighting it up and turning him from a miserable egomaniac to someone I might actually stand to be around.
He’s gorgeous. He was pretty before, with that mess of russet hair and scruffy jaw, but slap a genuine smile on his face and I apparently forget how to breathe.
It might be harder to remember he’s a client if he keeps looking at me like that.
“Do you want me to try to get him off now?” I ask, hoping for a distraction.
Logan’s smile fades, his eyes shifting to the cat as he rubs his fingers in Beef’s favorite spot under his arms and elicits a stronger purr.
“No.” The word comes out more Australian than normal, a heavy “naur” in his growly voice.
“He’s fine. And if you have work to do while the food cooks, I’m…
” He looks at me again, a furrow appearing on his forehead.
He seems just as confused as I am when he says, “I’m fine to wait here. ”
Apparently my guard cat has won over the Aussie, and I’m not sure what that means. Just as I don’t fully understand why a spot of warmth bursts to life in my chest at the thought of someone keeping me company while I work.
Even if that someone is Logan Callahan and his ego.