by Rae, Kelsie
And it's pretty damn incredible.
Chapter Eighteen
Anthony
I watch in fascination as Sway slides her silky legs into her gray joggers before reaching for her tank top and slipping her arms through it. Once she’s clothed, she gives me a warm smile, her cheeks tinged the same color as her hair.
“Well, that was fun. You hungry?”
Chuckling, I pat my stomach and lazily scan her up and down. “Well, I already had a pretty big meal but––”
She gasps then smacks me in the abs. The sting of her palm leaves a mark on my bare skin and only brings a deeper roar of laughter out of me.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Has dirty Sway left the building?”
With pursed lips, she narrows her gaze then mutters, “Maybe.”
I pull her into my chest and drag my nose from her jaw up to her ear before whispering, “You taste good, Sway. Real good. I could eat you for breakfast every day of the week, and you wouldn’t hear me complaining, okay?”
The pause that follows is heavy before her quiet reply makes me smile.
“Okay.”
“Although, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you gave me an award or something for blowing your expectations out of the water,” I quip to lighten the mood.
With a light giggle, Sway nuzzles her face into the crook of my neck in embarrassment, and I’m sure she’s recounting the four solid orgasms in all their glory just like I am. When I’m sure she’s about to compliment me, I feel her teeth dig into my skin as she bites me. With a yelp, I pull away to see her grinning from ear to ear before she raises her arms and pulls her hair into a high ponytail. Taking a step toward the exit, she peeks over her shoulder. “Wanna feed the kitties, and I’ll make eggs? We’ll meet in the kitchen in thirty?”
The way her eyes pin me in place wouldn’t let me argue even if I wanted to. “Sure thing, Swayze Girl.”
Her mouth tilts up in the corner, but she doesn’t call me out for using her nickname. Turning on her heel, she exits through the open doorway, leaving me alone to gather my thoughts after the best sex of my life.
With a sigh, I get to work by mixing up some formula but choose to leave my shirt off since Clover did so well yesterday when I wasn’t wearing one. Call it a superstition, but I don’t want to throw off her groove.
Picking her up with a gentleness I didn’t know I was capable of, I rest Clover in the palm of my hand then take a seat on the exam room chair. The dropper touches her lips, and she responds by opening her mouth greedily.
“Good girl,” I murmur, brushing my thumb against her tiny jaw.
With a gulp, she swallows the bead of moisture, so I squeeze the syringe a little more. Within ten minutes, she has a full belly and a sleepy disposition.
“Alright, Clover, let’s get you some rest.” I stand from the chair and arch my back to stretch the muscles that are sore from sitting in an awkward position for so long before putting her back in her cage and reaching for her brother––the black kitten with a white soul patch.
“Alright, little guy, you’re up.”
Twenty minutes later, the kittens are fed, and the exam room is cleaned, so I mosey into the kitchen to find Sway swinging her hips to the rhythm of an unfamiliar song while stirring a pot over the stove. When I catch onto the lyrics, I grin.
“What’s this song called?” I ask with my shoulder propped against the doorframe.
Looking over at me, she smiles. “Hey. It’s called Sway by Danielle Bradbery.”
Of course it is.
“Didn’t know you had a theme song,” I jest.
“I know, right?”
Staying silent, I listen to a few more of the lyrics, enjoying the melody before pushing off the doorframe and voicing my verdict. “I like it. It fits you perfectly.”
“Why, thank you. I think I’ll take that as a compliment.” She stirs the egg mixture for another second then reaches over to a cutting board littered with an array of chopped vegetables and tosses them into the pot.
“You should. Do you need any help?” I lift my chin to where she’s cooking, but she shakes her head.
“Nope. You came in at the perfect time. It’s just about ready. Hope you don’t mind an egg scramble.”
My stomach grumbles at the mention of food. I might’ve joked about being able to live off oral sex, but the truth is, I’m starving.
“Sounds great.”
Seeing a pair of plates on the counter, I pick them up and offer them to Sway who smiles at the gesture as she dishes them full of scrambled eggs loaded with red onion, green peppers, mushrooms, and cheddar cheese.
Once she’s finished, I carry the plates over to the table, and we take a seat opposite each other before digging in. A comfortable silence envelops us as we eat. I try not to laugh when Sway tosses a few bites of egg to Tobias after he rubs his body against her legs, playing her like a fiddle.
“You spoil him,” I note with a teasing smile.
“Of course I spoil him. He’s my first, after all.” She gives me a wink, and I finally let the laugh loose that’s been dying to come out from watching her interaction with the ugliest cat I’ve ever seen.
“Ah, I should’ve known. He has you wrapped around his little paw.”
“Yup. I won’t even deny it. My parents bought him from a breeder when I was in high school and needed a little extra lovin’, and he delivered it without asking for anything in return.”
“High school was rough for you?” I probe, hearing a little hitch in her voice when she mentions it.
She nods, her gaze dropping to her plate as she pushes the eggs around. “Yeah. I had a few bumps in high school, and my parents wanted to help me get through it any way they could, so they brought Tobias home.” She glances back at me. “After that, I discovered my love of cats, and the rest, as they say, is history. Toby is the one who sparked my interest in veterinary school, and then one thing led to another, and here I am living the dream.”
I notice she doesn’t expand on what bumps she went through in high school, but I let her brush it off as I admit, “Honestly, I’m kind of jealous. The kitty litter sucks to change out, but other than that, you’ve got a really good thing going. I’ve been thinking about putting in a few resumes here and there, but it’s been kind of depressing.”
“And why’s that? Where are you applying?”
With a shrug, I take another bite of eggs. She leans forward with interest as I swallow and tell her, “That’s the problem. I can’t get myself to apply anywhere. Thankfully, the economy is doing pretty well, and there are plenty of opportunities. The issue is that I’m not a huge fan of any of them. I was in the rat race for so long that when I was let go, I felt like my world was crashing down. Then I stumbled into this town on the road to self-discovery, made a shitty decision by getting behind the wheel while intoxicated, then slid off the road and into your front yard. When the judge gave me the community service and ordered me to come here, I was kind of pissed. No offense, but I hate cats.” She laughs at my honesty, and my gaze falls to Tobias who gives me a dirty look as if he’s offended. Lifting my hands in defense, I correct myself. “Hated. I thought I’d dread coming here every day, but they’ve kind of won me over. You’ve kind of won me over. In a platonic way, of course,” I tack on at the end.
Her mouth forms a thin line, but her eyes are crinkled in the corners and put me at ease as she replies, “Of course. So you’ve learned you like cats. You’ve learned you don’t miss your old job even though it felt like your identity at the time. And you’ve learned you kind of like hanging out here. Did I miss anything?”
“Nope. You pretty much summed it up. Unfortunately, the rat race is where I’ll be headed because it’s the only job experience I have, and even though I have a pretty good nest egg to keep me floating for a while, I can’t just sit around forever. I would go crazy if I weren’t doing something every day.”
“Want my opinion?”
No, because I already know what
it’ll be. I’ve had the same debate with myself for weeks now, but it can’t be helped. I’m not going to start from the ground up when I put so many hours into building the resume I have right now. Sure, I’m dreading checking my email for interview opportunities, and I died a little inside when I considered applying for a specific job in a skyscraper near where I used to work, but it’s life. No sense changing it…or wishing for something I can’t have. My eyes shift to Sway’s before I look down at my eggs.
Losing my appetite, I push the plate aside and answer her with a teasing smile.
“Do I have a choice?”
With a grin, her little nose scrunches up before she replies, “Nope. Your community service must be paid in any way I see fit, which includes me stepping on my soapbox and telling you all of my philosophies of life. You ready?”
I groan. “So this was in the fine print too, Sway?”
“Yup.”
“Then I guess I’m all ears.”
“Good. So, here it goes. Do you want to know why so many cats end up here? Because people go in with the wrong expectations when buying a cat. They think they can fit them into a little box and mold their personalities any way they see fit. But the thing is, they’re cats. They are who they are, and if you can’t accept them, then neither the owner or the cat end up very happy in the relationship. Once the cats are accepted for who they are, they lose part of the attitude. They don’t mind a little scratch behind the ear, or an extra snuggle even though they’ve reached their limit because they’re loved unconditionally, and they can feel that. Despite their shitty attitudes on occasion, and their relentless meowing, they’re loved.” She shakes her head quickly and laughs dryly before peeking over at me. “I’m getting off track. My point is that you’re trying to put yourself in a box. You’re trying to convince yourself that you’ll be happy with the wrong owner-slash-job. And do you know what that means? That means you’ll never be happy and neither will they. You need to accept who you are, Anthony, even if that means you’re not a corporate sell-out, and that you’re happiest hanging out with cats instead of in a corner office on the thirtieth floor. Find out what you want and go for it. It really is that simple.”
“So you’re saying I start another cat sanctuary down the road? Just because it makes me happy, and I’m supposed to chase after my dreams?”
“No, smartass. I’m saying you stay and work with me.”
I flinch in my chair, feeling a heavy wave of whiplash as I attempt to digest her comment.
“What?”
Her eyes widen as if she can’t believe she offered me a job either, and I watch as she debates whether she should back peddle or move forward with her ludicrous proposal.
“Umm…I said you should stay and work with me?”
Laughing, I probe, “Is that a question?”
“Maybe?”
We sit in silence for a few seconds before she clarifies, “Or you could always take me up on the whole cat calendar thing. I’m telling you, it’s a million-dollar idea.”
I can’t hold back my laughter as I consider posing half-naked while holding a bunch of kittens, only for the image to be printed into calendars and hung on refrigerators all over the world. The thought is more than comical, and she joins in, imagining the same thing.
“Call me crazy, but I don’t think I could muster the courage to pull that one off.”
She looks me up and down as if I’m a big, juicy steak before fidgeting in her seat and peeking down at her plate. “Seriously? You’re a babe, Anthony Wright. Own it.”
“Maybe one day, but for now, I think I’ll hold off on the whole male modeling with cuddly creatures idea for the time being. Good thought, though.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to go with plan B,” she grins. “I mean, I’ve been thinking about hiring an assistant. As you’ve seen, this place takes a lot of work, and it’s nice to have an extra set of hands. Especially when it’s springtime, and a bunch of kittens are born. Or after Easter.” Her eyes widen. “You wouldn’t believe how many pets are given up a few months after Easter. Don’t even get me started on the bunnies. It’s ridiculous.”
“You take in bunnies too?”
“Sometimes. Seriously, Anthony. People can be really selfish sometimes, and it’s probably one of the hardest aspects of my job. They don’t understand that getting an animal is a lifelong commitment. As soon as it gets hard, they bail. And even when they do keep them, the owners don’t understand the importance of fixing their pets which leads to overpopulated shelters because there are too many animals and not enough homes.”
Her passion is palpable, and it makes me feel terrible about the situation. And too damn helpless to do anything about it.
Looking around, I play a little game of I Spy and see half a dozen cats hanging around in the kitchen. One orange tabby, named Betty, is licking her paw. Another is curled in a ball in the light of the window. And another is hiding in a paper bag on the floor that I attempted to pick up the other day before Sway stopped me and said it was Reggie’s favorite place to hang out. She was right, and even though it drives me a little nuts to leave it out, it makes me smile to know how much Sway cares about them. She’s done everything in her power to help the cats in any way she can. The sight seems to lift the heaviness from the room, leaving me with a soft smile as I turn my attention back to Sway whose face is still red with anger.
“You’re doing amazing things here, Sway. And, if you’re okay with it, I’d love to stay and help after my community service hours are taken care of.”
She opens her mouth to say something, but I cut her off, feeling the need to add something that matters a lot to me. “And before you even think about offering, I don’t want you to pay me. You’re doing me a favor by letting me stay and figure out what the hell I’m going to do with my life, so let me donate a few more hours, okay?”
“Anthony, I can pay you––”
“It isn’t necessary, Sway. Promise.”
Her mesmerizing eyes bounce around my face seeing my sincerity, and I bask in the assessment because I know she won’t find an ounce of doubt. I want to be here. I want to help. And I’m grateful for the opportunity she’s giving me.
“You sure?” she probes, her voice thick with hesitation.
“Positive. But only under one condition.”
“And what’s that?” She tilts her head and narrows her gaze in suspicion, and I know I’m going to enjoy her reaction as I expand.
“We gotta split up the kitty litter duties. Don’t act all innocent over there,” I wave my hand at her, “Like you haven’t noticed that I’m the only one scooping them since my first day here, and you showed me the ropes.”
Giggling, she covers her face with her dainty little hands before peeking at me through her fingers and mumbling, “Guilty.”
“That’s what I thought.” I laugh, and it feels good.
Then a thought hits me square in the chest as I lean back in my chair and assess the girl across from me.
Everything I do with Sway feels good.
“Speaking of which, I should probably get started on that.” She stands up from her chair and reaches for my plate, but I stop her.
“I’ve got this. You made breakfast. I’ll do the dishes.”
“It’s fine, Anthony––”
“I know, but I want to.”
She folds her lips between her teeth before leaving the plates on the table and taking a slow step back. “Well, thank you, then. I appreciate it.”
“And I appreciate breakfast.”
“And that’s all this is? You helping me clean up because I made breakfast? No ulterior motives or anything?”
It takes a minute before I understand what she means.
“You think I’m being nice because we had sex?”
“You tell me,” she counters, staring down at me as I stay seated in my chair.
“And if I was just being nice because we had sex, which I’m not saying that’s my motive because it i
sn’t, but…would that be a bad thing?”
She shuffles on her feet before folding her arms. “Yeah. It leads to expectations. It leads to murky territory. It leads to the r-word, and I don’t do those.”
With a sigh, I look up at her as she hovers a few feet away. “We’ve already had this conversation, Sway. I’m not looking for a relationship, either, and I don’t expect what happened in the exam room to happen again. I want it to,” I point out, my mouth tilted up in amusement. “But I don’t have any expectations that it will. Whatever this thing is between us? It’s just for fun. If you have an itch that needs to be scratched, you can come to me. If you’re wanting to Netflix and chill, you can come to me. No pressure. Just fun. And if I want to do the dishes for you, it’s not because I’ve seen you naked, but because my mom raised me to be a gentleman even if I forget what that means on occasion. Understand?”
It’s silent. The only sound to be heard in Sway’s kitchen is the rustling of that stupid paper bag, and the occasional meow from a very needy Tobias who’s disappointed he didn’t get more eggs for lunch.
Weighing the sincerity of my words, Sway tucks a strand of hair behind her ear then gives me a hesitant nod before beaming down at me. “Yeah. I think I do. Thanks, Anthony. I think this could be fun.”
“Agreed. Now go clean those litter boxes. No offense, Sway, but they’re starting to stink.”
“Well, maybe it’s because the last guy who changed them should’ve done a better job,” she returns.
“And maybe the girl who taught him how to do it should’ve caught onto the fact that he was doing a crappy job on purpose so she’d step in and take over,” I rebut.
She holds her sides as laughter bubbles out of her before shaking her head and stomping toward the cattery in the basement. Two steps later, she turns around.
“Clever, Anthony. Very clever.”
Chapter Nineteen
Anthony
With my arms up to my elbows in soapy dishwater, I feel my front pocket vibrate with an incoming call. Removing my left arm from the sudsy water, I wipe it on a dish towel then pull out my cell to see my mom’s name flashing across the screen.