Chapter 10
Knox
“It’s too risky.”
I drag a hand through my hair and shift the phone to my other ear, squinting into a bright morning glare bouncing off the ocean. My coffee’s gone cold. So has the toast I never touched.
Mont exhales on the other end. “Talk to me.”
“Besides lease structure issues, their margins are too thin, historicals don’t add up, and labor costs are a fucking mess. We wouldn’t be adding a stable business to our portfolio. We’d be inheriting a headache.”
“Damn,” Mont mutters, almost to himself. “That Jersey Shore spot pulls twice the traffic they get out west.”
“You know I don’t sugarcoat. When I dig, it’s deep, and I’m always honest. Just took me longer than planned this time. Got…sidetracked.”
Shadow meows from the playpen, a pitiful little cry that’s part boredom, part demand for attention.
“What the hell was that?”
“That was Shadow…a kitten.”
“A kitten?” Mont goes quiet. “When I told you to get some pussy, I didn’t mean get a damn house cat.”
Classic Mont. Deadpan delivery with just enough bite to make you wonder if he’s kidding. “Remind me to fill you in later.”
“And that young hottie next door? Any more naked run-ins?”
Before I can even get a word in, he cuts himself off.
“Ah, hold up. Frankie’s finally calling me back. Been a minute since I checked in with my kid. Catch you later.”
We hang up, and I drop my phone onto the table beside me.
Waves hum below, white noise against early morning calm. Overhead, a gull cries out, distant and sharp.
My eyes drift toward Millie’s deck next door.
Towels hang like summer flags, and a single flip-flop lies abandoned halfway beneath a chair.
No sign of Cami yet. Maybe she’s still asleep.
Or maybe she’s stretched across the bed, scrolling through her phone, bare legs tangled in sheets, beautiful in a way I haven’t seen but can somehow picture.
It’s been a few days since that hallway kiss and the summer fling rules we drafted like agents striking a lucrative deal between us.
No strings.
No real-world talk.
No falling in love.
Cami printed hard copies for us to sign with three new clauses added, equal parts practical and personal.
We’re both clean. She had her screening before summer; I had mine after the mess with Jenna.
She has an IUD, so when we cross that line, it’ll be safe…and hot.
And no sex until we’ve been on at least three dates.
I’m good with all of it. Even the waiting.
Because I didn’t come to Crystal Cove for hookups. I came for peace and quiet.
To silence the echo of my ex-wife’s betrayal.
Cami’s an unexpected plot twist. A bonus epilogue that makes my sad story worth rereading.
And I’m fully aware that a summer tryst won’t heal me. Won’t undo what my ex shattered or suddenly restore my trust in love. But it might dull the sting. Maybe even trigger a seismic shift in my dormant heart. Convince me that not every ending leaves you scarred.
A few hours later, I’m crouched beside the playpen, scooping Stripe into the pet carrier.
Shadow’s already curled inside like she’s the star of this sitcom.
Both are still like little spuds with paws, all belly and zero coordination.
Today is their first vet appointment since being fostered: a check-up on weight, hydration, and proof that bottle-feeding’s doing its job. Judging by their growing bellies and louder meows, I’d say we’re on track.
I zip the carrier and glance at my watch. Cami should be ready by now, probably on her way over in another pair of cutoffs engineered to sabotage my focus.
Keys in hand and carrier tucked under one arm, I step outside, coastal air brushing warm against my skin.
Sunlight glints off my Rover’s windshield as I pop the lock and ease the back door open.
Shadow lets out a tiny mew as I buckle them in, like she knows we’re on a tight schedule. Stripe, on the other hand, stays quiet, and if he were older, I’d say he was plotting an escape.
I double-check both straps. Not too loose, not too snug.
Cami told me that I hover like a nervous dad.
And she’s right, which should probably scare me.
But it doesn’t. Not after all the years I spent pretending I didn’t want to be a father.
It’s like slipping back into a version I wanted to be before I started rewriting myself to fit into someone else’s story.
The muted crunch of the beach path steers my attention back to now.
Cami’s walking across our shared path, hair twisted into one of those messy knots that somehow still looks intentional. Oversized sunglasses slide down her nose. And, yep, she’s in another pair of shorts that have no business looking that good.
She flashes a smile, too casual to be innocent. “Are they ready for their big day?”
I nod toward the carrier. “Stripe voiced a few opinions about it, but he’s settled.”
She peers through the mesh. “Hi, babies.” Her coo softens as if it’s got some kind of built-in purr.
Shadow meows in response; she knows she’s being admired.
“Front seat’s all yours,” I say, holding the door open.
Cami slides in, and that citrusy scent of hers follows: fresh, sharp, and just as distracting as the bare skin she keeps showing off.
God help me.
“You nervous?” she asks as I back out of the driveway.
“About what?” Being near you? Always.
“Judgment Day.” She shrugs. “Two clueless humans trying to raise bottle babies.”
“Those noisemakers are alive, fat, and loud. Not bad for a couple of first-timers.”
She laughs, fingers drumming on her thigh. “We’re practically professionals now. Today, their first check-up. Tomorrow, we’ll be getting invited to playdates.”
“As long as there’s wine. And I don’t have to talk to the other cat parents.”
I catch her expression shift: eyes bright, mouth tugged into something between fond and amused. I mirror it, hoping my breath-stealing passenger can’t hear how loud my thoughts get whenever she’s near.
The town slides by in a blur of shops, cafés, and restaurants, a radio hits playlist murmuring low as we each fall quiet, lost in separate thoughts.
Before long, we’re pulling into Crystal Cove Animal Clinic’s parking lot, Stripe and Shadow already voicing their discontent as if they know what’s coming.
Inside, Dex is at the front desk, tapping away at a keyboard.
“Well, if it isn’t our favorite couple,” he says without glancing up.
Cami shoots him a look that somehow manages to be both a smirk and a warning. “Still not a couple.”
Dex glances over his glasses. “Sure. My bad. Just neighbors who are fostering kittens together. Totally platonic behavior.”
“Is our room ready?” I ask because there’s no winning this conversation.
“Of course.” He waves us toward Exam Room Four. “I’m only teasing, you know. But we all may or may not have started a wager on when you two will saunter in here holding hands. You’d be surprised at how playing house with kittens can quickly turn into sharing keys and toothbrushes.”
Cami mutters something under her breath as she walks past him. I pretend not to hear it and definitely don’t smile like a man who wouldn’t mind if any of it comes true.
I follow a beat behind, setting Stripe and Shadow’s carrier on the stainless-steel table while Cami’s practically nose-to-mesh, ready to supervise.
Dex shuts the door and leans in to unzip the flap.
“Well, look who’s gotten so much bigger,” he coos. “This little queen’s filled out, and—hello, chunky guy—someone sure has been eatin’ well.”
Shadow arches into his palm with a satisfied purr; Stripe rushes back to scale over the carrier as though his attention quota’s been fully met.
“We named her Shadow,” Cami says, eyes bright. “And that’s Stripe, the sly troublemaker.”
Dex grins. “Names definitely suit ’em.” He gives Shadow a gentle once-over. “To think they were so tiny when you rescued them. You two have done good. Real good.”
Cami beams, proud and radiant, tugging at my chest in a way kitten paws never could.
Dex glances up, still checking Shadow’s ears. “Wanda will be thrilled to know her babies are in good hands.”
“How’s she doing?” I ask.
“Recovering well. Still convinced she runs this place.” Dex smirks. “I’ll make sure you two get a peek at her soon. Maybe arrange a bonding date for them.”
Cami’s infectious smile tells me she’s already in love with the idea. “And what about the third kitten that was delivered here?”
“He’s in good hands,” Dex assures. “Another little boy. Tiniest of the bunch, but also the loudest. We call him Biscuit. One of our techs takes him home each night to assist with late-night bottle feedings.”
“Aw,” Cami says, hand over her heart. “Lucky little guy.”
Dr. Ochoa steps in, wearing his usual calm presence and a look of quiet amusement.
With Dex’s help, he listens to both kittens’ hearts, checks their weight, then straightens with a smile.
“They look great. Gaining weight. Lively. No signs of dehydration.” Dr. Ochoa gives Stripe a gentle scratch behind the ears, earning a tiny purr in return. “Are they sleeping through the night?”
“At least six hours now.” I slip my hands in my pockets. “And it’s been glorious.”
“Awesome. Looks like they’re thriving under your care.” He scribbles something on the chart. “I’d like to keep them for a few hours, though. Run some tests, give them a few shots.”
“Wait,” Cami says, brows pulling in. “You mean…without us?”
Dr. Ochoa nods. “They’ll be fine. Dex and I can handle them. Totally routine. We’ll call you when they’re ready to go home.” He pauses. “Assuming you two are up for continued fostering?”
“Yes,” Cami says, all high-pitched.
I look at Dr. Ochoa. “We’ll definitely keep fostering.”
He gives a quiet nod of approval. “That’s what I was hoping to hear.”
Cami folds her arms across her chest, just shy of defiance, as Dex gently scoops up Stripe. She edges closer to the table, eyes tracking every movement. “I guess I didn’t realize we’d be leaving them today.”
She’s spiraling.
The same woman who marched in here like a boss is now looking at Stripe as if he’s being sent to the gallows.
“They’ll be okay,” I promise, low enough for her ears only. “It’s just a few hours. Think of it like daycare. With needles.”
That gets me a side-eye and the tiniest smile. But she still hovers while Dex gently scoops up Shadow, whispering something only the kittens get to hear.
“Expect a call around five,” Dr. Ochoa tells me.
He turns to write more notes, but Cami doesn’t move until Dex and the kittens are fully out of sight. And even then, she lingers long enough for me to know she’s already too far in.
Maybe I am, too.