Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I woke to a sharp poke in the ribs.
"Brody. Brody, don't panic, but you have a cat sleeping on your feet."
My eyes shot open, but I held statue-still.
"You can still breathe," Calvin whispered. "I don't think that'll startle it, seein' as you've been breathing all night."
"Can I talk?" I asked, barely movin' my lips.
She laughed softly against my chest. "I'm gonna try to sit up. See if it'll let me… I don't know. Say hi."
"Say hi?"
She shrugged against me as she ever so slowly pushed herself upright.
I didn't mind.
The sight of her naked body risin' above me in the early mornin' light had my dick tentin' the makeshift blanket we'd thrown over ourselves sometime in the night.
It barely covered the important bits—more for protection from sharp kitten claws than modesty.
Summer nights were warm enough, and what we lacked in blankets, we made up for in body heat.
She twisted carefully, bracin' one hand on my stomach as she peered down toward my feet.
"There he is," she whispered.
"Don't antagonize it."
"It's not a grizzly bear, Brody."
"Debatable."
She peeled the blanket back an inch. A tiny black head popped up, ears too big for its body, green eyes blinkin' slow and unimpressed.
The kitten stretched.
Which meant claws.
Which meant—
"Jesus Christ," I hissed as tiny needles grazed my ankle.
Calvin dissolved into laughter. "You're such a baby."
"I am not. That thing's armed."
She scooped the kitten up before I could protest. It fit in one hand. One. Damn. Hand.
"Okay, first of all," she said, cradlin' it against her chest like she'd been born doin' it, "this is not a cat."
"It ain't? Then what is it?"
"This is a kitten."
"That's worse. Means it'll grow."
She smirked down at it, then shifted herself back into my side. The kitten pawed at her collarbone, then tucked its head under her chin.
My heart did a little pitter-patter.
"See?" she murmured. "Just needed somewhere warm to rest."
"Yeah, well. So did you."
The words slipped outta my big dumb mouth before I could filter them.
Her eyes flicked to mine.
Not teasin' now.
Just… searching.
The kitten squirmed in her arms and let out a tiny offended squeak like we'd insulted its entire bloodline.
"Well," she muttered, adjustin' her grip as it moved, "someone's excited this morning."
"Yeah," I said, scrubbin' a hand over my face. "And uninvited."
The little menace stretched, claws snagging the blanket at my waist before Calvin freed it.
"Easy," she crooned.
I blinked at her. "Did you just baby talk that cat?"
"Shut up."
"Unbelievable."
The thing went boneless in her hands, eyes droopin' like it had just found religion.
"Traitor," I muttered to her.
She glanced at me over the kitten's head. "You left the door open."
I pointed at her. "That is not the same as invitin' it to squat."
"Pretty sure that's exactly what it means."
I pushed up onto my elbows, the house creakin' around us as the morning warmed it. Sunlight sliced through the boards on the windows, hittin' her bare skin and makin' it glow in a way that did real stupid things to my brain.
"You really bought this for her?" she asked.
"The house? Yeah."
"And you were gonna surprise her?"
"Yeah."
She studied me for a second too long. "You always go big when you don't know what else to do?"
I snorted. "If by 'go big' you mean 'panic and make questionable financial decisions,' then yeah."
Her mouth twitched.
The kitten wriggled free and plopped to the floor, immediately trippin' over its own damn paws.
Calvin winced. "Oh my God."
"Graceful," I deadpanned.
She bent to scoop it up again, and I had to actively not stare at the way her back curved.
"So what's on today's agenda, Bob the Builder?" she asked.
"Coffee," I said.
"You don't have coffee."
"Then step one is regret."
She laughed under her breath and glanced around, clockin' the boxes along the wall.
"You puttin' in lights today?"
"Was gonna try."
"I can help."
That got my full attention. "You?"
She shot me a look. "Yes, me."
"With what? Moral support?"
"Wiring. Framing. Sanding. I'm not useless, Brody."
"I never said you were." I pushed to my feet and grabbed my jeans. "Just didn't peg you for the tool-belt type. Kinda see you more like a mob boss, if I'm bein' honest."
She smirked. "You don't know what I am yet."
She wasn't wrong there.
"Hell," I said, draggin' my shirt over my head, "once we get some light fixtures in, you can squat here if you wanna. Ain't much to look at, but it's a hell of a lot more private than that bunkhouse."
"Hey, now," she said, nudgin' me with her hip as she passed. "Don't talk about Cat's home like that."
I froze. "Cat?"
She looked down at the kitten tucked against her chest. "You were absolutely gonna name it Cat."
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
"Shut up."
She grinned like she'd just won the prize she'd been eyein' at the country fair.
Then her expression shifted—not big, not dramatic. Just quieter.
"I just might take you up on that," she said. "Might not be cozy, but it'll do for me for now." She glanced around the room like she was measurin' it. "Beats livin' in a truck. Or a trailer."
It came out a hair too harsh.
But I didn't ask.
Just nodded once. "Well," I said, reachin' for my boots, "guess we better make it less splintery."
She laughed softly.
The kitten settled against her like it had already decided this was home.
And for the first time since I bought the damn place, it didn't feel like I was fixin' it up for a life I'd never see.