Chapter 24
Irecognized the redhead behind the shelter counter, Angela. A few years before, I’d taken her whole family on a canoeing trip, and I always bought her marshmallow squares when the shelter had its annual fundraiser.
Angela’s welcoming smile faded when she saw my crutches. “Quinn! What happened? Are you okay?”
“I”m good,” I assured her. “Just came from the doctor. It’s only a sprained ankle. I”m grounded for a few weeks, but I’ll be fine.”
“Oh, Quinn. What a bummer.” Her friendly smile returned, chasing off some of the gloom that lingered from my confession to Hawk. “What brings you in today?” she asked.
Her eyes flicked from me to Hawk, standing a few feet behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see his arms crossed over his chest, his face set in the glower I was starting to think of as his version of a business suit.
“I”m thinking about getting a dog,” I said.
“A dog!” Angela’s eyebrows shot up. “That would be wonderful. Let me show you who we have right now.” She walked around the counter and led us to a vestibule with a door on each side; one led to the dogs, the other to the cats.
“Definitely not a cat,” I said, eyeing the door that led to the dogs, sure my future canine companion was behind it.
Angela tilted her head to the side and studied me. “You should take a look at both,” she said. “We have some interesting options on both sides.”
“Okay,” I agreed, even though inwardly I was thinking no way. What would I do with a cat? I was outdoors most of the time, and while I knew plenty of cats loved the outdoors, I also knew how devastating they could be to the ecosystem. I loved the birds, chipmunks, and everything else a cat would eat if allowed to run wild.
I headed down into the dog wing, the gloom creeping back in at the sight of so many caged animals. They were in runs that gave them access to space outdoors, not in tiny little squares stacked on top of each other, but still. It was depressing to see so many without homes. Without love.
I walked down the aisle, waiting for that magic moment, for some spark to tell me this was the dog. My dog. It didn”t happen. That mythical Rottweiler who just needed some love wasn’t there. There were a ton of mixed-breed hounds, none of whom felt like the right dog for me. I passed by a handful of small lapdogs. A Chihuahua. A Jack Russell mix. Cute, but again, not for me. I walked up and down the dog corridor three times until Hawk laid a heavy hand on my shoulder and squeezed.
“Let”s go look at the cats,” he said. His tone was resigned, a sentiment I agreed with. But since we were here…
“Yeah,” I sighed. “We might as well.”
He slid his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his side for the briefest moment before letting go. “Don”t worry, Remy”s girl will be here in a few weeks.”
“I know,” I said, “but I wanted?—”
“I know, baby, but let”s look at the cats anyway.”
That was the second time he’d called me baby. Once, the night before, when he’d woken me from my nightmare. And again now. I wasn’t sure he was aware the word had slipped through his lips, but I”d heard it. I let the smallest smile curve my mouth, my heart floating in my chest as we crossed from the dog side of the shelter to the cat side.
The attitude on the cat side was completely different. Where the dogs had been eager, coming as close as they could, sticking their snouts against their cages to sniff, the cats looked only vaguely interested in the humans who’d invaded their territory. Half of them were sleeping. They did look soft and cuddly, but I wasn’t a cat person.
I need a dog, I reminded myself. A dog I could throw a tennis ball to and go hiking with. And yes, Hawk had a point about protection. A dog made me less of a target when I was off in the woods alone. A dog would be useful. A cat, on the other hand—the question I’d asked myself earlier popped up again: What would I do with a cat?
I turned at the end of the row of cats and started back up the other side. On this side of the shelter, the cages were stacked two high. And as I passed one, I got a little too close to the bars and a claw snagged my T-shirt. I stopped and turned, locking onto a pair of golden eyes in a majestic, furry face crowned by tufted ears.
We studied each other in silence. Huge fluffy paws. So much fur in every shade from cream to caramel to a russet brown. And it was long. So long. This thing wasn’t a cat. It looked more like a miniature striped lion. I’d never seen a cat so big.
“What the hell is that?” Hawk asked. “It’s fucking huge.”
I tore my gaze from the cat’s and looked at the index card on the cage. “A Maine Coon,” I read and laughed. “His name is Leo.”
“Fitting,” Hawk said. “He’s as big as a lion cub. Is he mixed with a bobcat? I didn’t think Maine Coons got that big.”
I shook my head, laughing a little. “I don”t think it works like that. I”m pretty sure a bobcat would eat a regular cat. But this guy—” I stuck my fingers through the bars and scratched his chin, half sure he”d bite my fingers off and ready to jerk my hand back if necessary. Instead, he leaned in, resting his head against my hand. I liked the weight he put into it.
“That thing is too big to be a cat,” Hawk said under his breath. “Look over there.” He gestured to a cage near the door to the vestibule. “Kittens. Don”t you want a kitten? A kitten won’t eat you while you’re sleeping.”
I shook my head, mesmerized by the deep, rumbly purr as my fingers dug into the cat’s chin. Leo craned his neck, offering me more fur to rub. I obliged, rubbing the sides of his jaw with my thumbs, soaking in his purr, the softness of his fur. “Aren’t you a handsome boy,” I said in a singsong voice I’d never heard from myself before. Leo took my worship as his due, his purr even deeper, filling his long, tall body. He pulled back to butt his head against the cage door, rattling it on its hinges as if to say, Let me out already. You’re here. We can go now.
“Stay here,” Hawk said, sounding resigned and a little amused. “I’ll go get your friend and see if she can unlock this crate so you can hold him.”
“Uh-huh,” I agreed, mesmerized by the creature before me. This wasn’t what I”d had in mind when I thought, cat. In my mind, cats were sleek, aloof, and a shit-ton smaller. Leo wasn’t part bobcat, but he wasn’t much smaller than one. I wondered if he would hike with me. He was big enough. Did cats hike? I rejected the thought as soon as I had it. Even if I could somehow train him to hike with me, I could picture exactly what he would do to every bird, squirrel, and hell—raccoon—we came across. Leo would have to be an indoor cat, if he would accept that.
The door opened a minute later, Angela following Hawk. “Leo! He”s been with us for a while.”
“What”s wrong with him?” Hawk asked, eyeing Leo with suspicion.
Angela laughed. “Nothing”s wrong with him, except he”s a lot of cat, and he can be moody.” She watched us for a long moment, taking in Leo’s rumbling purr. “I’ve never seen him take to anyone like that. Usually he sits in the back of his crate and glares when anyone comes in. Do you want to hold him?”
“Yes, please,” I said, stepping back. Leo let out an annoyed chirp, followed by a long trilling sound.
Angela laughed again. “Hold tight, cranky pants. I”m going to let you out.”
She unlocked the door, swinging it wide. Leo pounced, leaping from the crate into my arms, the impact enough to rock me back. Hawk was behind me, taking my weight, catching the crutches as my arms came around Leo. He flopped half over my shoulder and pushed his head into my neck, his purr a deep, resonating rumble. I tilted my face into his thick fur and sighed.
“I think Leo”s found his person,” Angela said.
Hawk let out a low sound that might have been a laugh. “You cuddle your cat,” he said. “I’ll go start the paperwork.”
All I could do was nod. “I’ve got you, buddy,” I said, hugging the cat overflowing my arms. He was no lightweight. Before they could leave for the front desk, I asked, “Angela, is he okay being indoors? This guy could take down every bird and chipmunk for miles around Heartstone.”
She nodded. “As far as we know, he’s always been an indoor cat. His former owners had to surrender him when they moved, but they said he loves to play. He’s active, but definitely an indoor cat.” She hesitated. “I can’t— The adoption process takes more than a day. You can’t just bring him home,” she said, shaking her head.
“I can’t leave him here,” I said, my arms tightening around Leo at the idea of putting him back in that cage and walking away. “He”ll think I abandoned him.”
Ten minutes ago, I’d said I wasn’t a cat person. I was here for a dog; one I didn”t even need because Hawk had already gotten me a dog. But that was before I saw this guy. And now?—
“I can’t leave him here,” I said again.
“Quinn,” Angela said, still shaking her head, “there”s a procedure, and I need the forms and— Well, he”s been fixed already, and he’s up to date on his shots, but you can’t?—”
“Let”s go to the front office and we”ll work this out,” Hawk said, his hand closing over Angela”s elbow, turning her, propelling her back to the front desk. “Don”t go anywhere,” he said as he passed.
I shook my head. Leo had settled in and I leaned against the concrete wall by the door, murmuring, whispering, telling him how handsome he was. How majestic. How perfect. Leo rumbled back in agreement.
He was a cat, not a guard dog, but this guy was no pushover. I knew it instinctively. And he wanted to come home with me. Who was I to say no?
Minutes later, Hawk and Angela returned.
“All right,” Angela said. “Put Leo down long enough to hit the store and get what you need to bring him home. I’ll have the paperwork ready when you come back. We”ll make an exception this one time, but don’t tell anyone.” Angela eyed my boot, the crutches I’d leaned against the wall, considering. “You”ve got a tough break with that ankle, and Leo’s been in that cage long enough. We”re a no-kill shelter, but if we weren’t, he would have passed his expiration date a while ago. I want him in a good home.”
“I”m a good home,” I said, burying my face in Leo”s neck as I hobbled the few steps back to his cage and shifted him to put him back inside. His claws curved, sinking into my shirt. “It”s okay, buddy,” I said. “I’ll be back, I promise. I’ll be back, and we”ll take you home.”
Never mind that I wasn’t precisely sure where home was. I’d slept in the gatehouse last night. After spilling everything to Hawk, the past was too fresh and there was no way I was going to sleep in Heartstone Manor. I”d bail on my inheritance and move to Guam with Leo before I did that.
Hawk stepped forward, detaching the Velcro cat from my T-shirt. Leo chirped in what I’d swear was indignation. “We”ll be back, little lion,” Hawk said. “I promise.”
Leo tilted his head to the side, studied Hawk for a long moment, and allowed Hawk to put him back in the cage.
I followed Hawk out of the shelter, calling to Angela over my shoulder. “We”ll be back.”
“Give me at least an hour,” Angela called back.
Hawk helped me into the SUV and stopped, looking down at me, my crutches in his hand. “I’m not taking you back to Heartstone. You and Leo can stay in the gatehouse for the time being. When we”ve neutralized whoever came after you in the woods, we’ll figure out what to do next. Okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed, kitty bubbles fizzing through my chest, chasing off the dregs of sadness left from spilling my guts to Hawk on the way here. I didn”t have to go back to Heartstone, and I was bringing home a new friend. I thought of that rumbly purr, those sharp gold eyes. The way Angela said he didn”t like anybody, but he liked me. I liked him too. And he’d liked Hawk.
I smiled. For once, I’d gotten exactly what I wanted. And I was going to appreciate every second of it before things went to hell again.