Chapter 15
The next morning, I wake up at five till five on instinct. I got into the mode of being an early riser when I was in nursing school, and I’ve never gotten out of it. I slip into my bathroom, do my morning routine, and pull my hair into a big loose bun at the top of my head.
I tip toe into the kitchen, determined not to wake Mack up. I grab a can of cat food out of the cupboard above the fridge and open it, wincing when the can opener makes that initial pop to break the seal.
I tip the can over into Midnight's dish, set it near his water, and frown. Usually, he comes running at the first pop of the can. I hear paws, but they're the big, lumbering kind. I snatch Midnight's dish off the ground.
"Hey Mooch." I ruffle the dogs head and gently scratch behind his ears. He tips his mammoth head to one side and leans so hard against me I have to brace to stay upright. The dog must be at least ninety pounds.
Mooch's food is resting near the door--an enormous sixty-five pound bag with a mixing-sized bowl next to it. Mooch nudges my hand a couple times to keep me petting him, but I soon pat him.
"Want breakfast?"
I don't know if he knows the word or if it's just my tone, but he starts wagging and walking around in circles, his eyes alert on mine. It's exactly like last night--the dude looks like one of those ballerinas who keep a focal point to keep from getting dizzy when they spin.
I laugh quietly and get him some food. I don't know how much he eats, so I just fill the bowl to the top. Mooch shoves his head in, tail wagging.
"Breakfast success," I say.
Then I frown because Midnight is still nowhere to be found. He splits nighttime all over the house, sometimes sleeping on the leather chair, sometimes claiming a spot near the air return. But he's never failed to come running when I open his can.
What if those guys came back and... And what? A little voice mocks, in my head. Why would they do anything to your cat?
I check the back door to make sure I locked the cat door like I do every night. Leaving it unlocked is just inviting something inside. A raccoon, maybe. Or a snake. I shudder at the thought, but the cat door is still locked.
Which means Midnight is in the house somewhere. I head upstairs, checking my bedroom and bathroom first. Maybe I accidentally shut him in there when I left this morning? But no dice.
Finally, the only room I haven't searched is the guest bedroom downstairs. The door is cracked wide enough for Midnight to fit inside. Maybe he curled up next to Mack? Maybe Mack's a super deep sleeper and rolled over on him. Maybe Midnight is being smothered, right now.
At the thought, I reach out and push the door open on silent hinges.
What in all the female-centric porn is this?
Turns out, I was only half right. Mack is lying on his side, facing the door.
Midnight is curled in his arms. Midnight blinks at me, then yawns, his mouth a spot of bubblegum pink against the black of his fur.
If I'd ever needed a million dollar idea, here it is: hot men sleeping next to adorable cats.
"You little traitor," I whisper.
But I can hardly blame Midnight for his choice of sleeping arrangements. Maybe Midnight is actually gay. Because Mack is sleeping shirtless--hell, he could be naked, for all I know, but his torso is the only thing exposed.
As a nurse, I've gotten completely used to the human form.
I actually believed that I was immune to bodies in general, to be honest. But it turns out I'm only immune to gross things--injuries, blood, and the like.
I'm completely shocked by handsome, tanned, ripped, shirtless bodies. Or at least, this one.
I'm frozen in the doorway. Heaven knows what expression I'm wearing.
But I cannot pry my eyes from running over those bare arms, those biceps that look like the man's smuggling grapefruits.
Those wide, muscular shoulders, the bare pecs--the nipples!
--and a small sliver of tanned abs that I can spy from my vantage point.
My eyes are going for thirds or maybe fourths when I see a small flicker of movement--his eyelashes blinking. Mack's awake. And staring at me staring at him.
If there were ever a good time for a lightning bolt, I wouldn't say no to one hitting me right now.
I clear my throat. "Just looking for my cat."
"Here he is." With one massive hand, Mack holds Midnight out to me by supporting his belly.
Which exposes even more of his chest to my eyes. I can't help it--they flicker down real quick, then back up to his eyes. By the twinkle I see there, I know he caught me.
I'm forced with a decision. I can either retreat--a totally lame move--or I can step forward, take my cat, and pretend this whole thing never happened. I choose option number two.
I step forward and reach for Midnight, who doesn't look like he's that eager to go with me, open can or not. I slide him gently from Mack's open palm and cradle him to my chest.
I turn my back before I get caught ogling Mack again. "Thanks."
"No problem."
I shut the door behind me when I go.
"You're a little slut," I whisper to Midnight. "An ab-loving slut."
Truthfully, I'm jealous.