by L A Witt
“Good.” I slid down onto my knees in front of him, hands working on his belt even as I leaned in and mouthed along the length of his zipper. Fuck, he was hard. I got his belt loose, unbuttoned the top of his fly, grabbed the zipper and—
Crash! “Rrowwwrr!”
I shut my eyes and leaned my head against Andreas’s thigh. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered. Andreas ran a hand down his face and swore for a solid thirty seconds before pulling me back up to my feet.
“If that was the sauce, Harley could be burned,” I said. I’d turned it off, but it was still hot in the pan. “We better make sure she’s okay.”
“She’s too fast to get caught in her own messes,” Andreas replied with a sigh. “Fuck.”
“Or not, in this case.” I kissed him again, just for a moment—I was worked up enough as it was. “Raincheck?”
“Raincheck,” he agreed. “Let’s go scrape Bolognese off the floor.”
We ended up getting lucky—the sauce was fine, still in place on the stove, but the bottle of wine was a goner. It could have been worse. Could have been a lot better, too, I reminded myself, but then again—
That’s what rainchecks were for.
Chapter 3
Andreas
Harley the asshole cat had clearly been sent here by her owner to exact some kind of vengeance on me. I’d thought Mark and I were past all our bullshit, but maybe not.
She’d been here for five days, and we were down a bottle of wine, a silk houseplant, and three attempts for a little one-on-one time with my husband. I’d seriously considered depositing her back at Mark’s place or unloading her on his boyfriend, but I was feeling a little more charitable after Darren and I had finally managed to fool around in the shower after work tonight.
“I swear, it’s like trying to grab a quickie when you’ve got kids in the house,” I grumbled as we got dressed. “Never thought of giving the kids catnip, though.”
Darren laughed as he zipped up his jeans. “I don’t think it has quite the same effect on kids.”
“It’d be worth a try.”
He eyed me.
I shrugged as I reached for a T-shirt. “Look, when you have three kids under five in the house, and you and your wife haven’t been able to do anything in weeks, you get desperate.”
Darren’s expression didn’t change. “I… honestly can’t decide if you’re joking.”
Rolling my eyes, I grabbed his belt loop, pulled him closer, and planted a quick kiss on his swollen lips. “Of course I’m not serious.” I let him go and headed for the bedroom door, throwing over my shoulder, “That’s what weed is for.”
“Andreas!”
I laughed, pulling on my shirt as I walked down the hall. We both knew I’d never give my kids anything like that, but after he’d seen my unorthodox methods on the job, it was sometimes fun to tease him about the unorthodox parenting methods I might have applied on my oldest three kids. Especially now that I was in a decent mood, mostly thanks to Darren drugging the shit out of the cat so he could plow me in the shower.
As I was tugging my shirt into place, I stepped into the living room, and I halted. I’d already been in the bedroom getting undressed when Darren had given Harley the catnip, so I hadn’t witnessed her actually consuming it, but there she was—sprawled on her back on the living room carpet, staring at the dark TV with an expression that said, “Yep, I’m fucked up.” There were crumbs of what looked like oregano all over her and the carpet, and she had one paw sort of waving stupidly in the air like she either wasn’t sure what to do with it or had forgotten it was there at all. Her tail lazily flipped back and forth, scattering more catnip.
“You have a prescription?” I asked.
Her head lolled toward me in a lazy, heavy motion, and her half-closed eyes fixed—sort of—on me.
“How about you show me your green card, cat?”
She blinked slowly, and the paw in the air flailed almost like she was trying to give me the finger.
I eyed her sternly. “We can do this here or down at the station.”
Another slow blink. Then she just let her eyes close all the way and gave the biggest, most dramatic sigh I had ever seen a cat do.
“Are you talking to the kitty?” Darren appeared beside me. “Because that’s fucking adorable.”
I turned to him, arching an eyebrow, and he was failing to hide a grin.
“Admit it.” He nudged me playfully. “You like her.”
“She murdered a houseplant and has found three incredibly creative ways to cockblock us. No, I don’t like her.”
“Oh, come on.” Darren let the grin come to life, and he started ticking points off on his fingers. “She has a death glare. She doesn’t care if she breaks something while she’s searching a house. She had an opportunity to hit Mark in the stitches, and she took it.” He elbowed me. “She’s basically you with more gray hair.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Really?”
“Am I wrong?”
I just groaned and flailed a hand toward the cat, who was still lost in a catnip haze. “She also licks her ass in the living room.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Jealous?”
“What?”
“Please, sweetheart.” He pushed himself up, kissed my cheek, and headed for the kitchen, throwing over his shoulder, “If you could do that, you’d never leave the house.”
I glared at his back. “You think you’re so funny.”
The cackle that came from the kitchen made me roll my eyes… but it always made me laugh. What could I say?
Sighing, I turned toward the cat. Her eyes were about halfway open, and as usual, she looked incredibly pleased with herself. And stoned. Definitely stoned.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” I said.
“Are you talking to me or the cat?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be cooking?”
He just laughed.
Because of course he did.
“You really have a kitty?” My youngest daughter, Emily, was practically bouncing in the backseat after we picked her up from school.
“Just for a little while. We’re taking care of her while a friend is…” I hesitated. “While a friend is out of town.”
“But you said Scruffy can’t come over. How come you can kitty-sit?”
Darren twisted around in the passenger seat. “Our landlord doesn’t want dogs because they bark and keep people awake. Cats are quiet.”
I snorted. Harley had discovered birds in a tree outside the living room window yesterday, and she’d decided their existence was the single most offensive thing that had ever occurred. Quiet, my ass.
Darren shot me a look, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he tirelessly answered all her questions about Harley. I suppressed a smile as I drove. As much as the cat irritated me, I loved seeing my little girl this excited. And what could I say? Darren with my kids was my kryptonite. Even after all this time, it still melted my heart whenever Darren interacted with any of them, whether that meant sitting on the floor and playing with Emily, or bantering with my eldest daughter at the precinct where we all worked.
“She goes on walks?” Emily’s delighted squeal made me jump.
“Her dad says she loves walks,” Darren said. “We have her leash and harness, so—”
“Can we take her for a walk? Daddy, can we?”
Taking a cat… for a walk? Seriously?
But I could see Emily’s puppy dog eyes in the rearview—good God, she’d been around her stepfather too much—and I could feel Darren’s coming from beside me.
“All right,” I said. “We can take the kitty for a walk.”
Another squeal. From the way Darren was grinning, he was probably suppressing one of his own.
Fifteen minutes later, I let us into the apartment. Harley had stopped trying to run out, and was sitting smugly on the couch. At first, her expression demanded to know what offerings we’d brought her, but then she saw Emily, and she straightene
d a little.
For a second, I was doubly worried that Harley might be afraid of cats and Emily—who was gentle with animals but hadn’t had a lot of experience with cats—might squeal and scare her.
But Emily put her hands over her mouth and gasped, then whispered a muffled, “Kitty!”
Harley studied her curiously, but didn’t seem to be scared.
While I shut and locked the door, Darren crouched beside Emily, “Go up to her and let her sniff your hand.”
Emily nodded. Slowly, almost timidly, she crept toward the touch. I watched, not sure what to expect from kid or cat.
When she was almost close enough to reach Harley, Emily glanced back at us.
“It’s okay,” Darren said. “Just hold out your hand.” He pantomimed putting out his hand for an imaginary cat to sniff.
She watched him, then turned to Harley again and cautiously stretched out her hand.
I chewed the inside of my cheek. Harley was a big cat, but it wasn’t until I saw her next to Emily that I realize just how big. This was a cat who’d tackled a large potted plant and knocked it over like it was nothing. If she decided to pounce on Emily…
Harley craned her neck, nose and whiskers twitching as she inspected my daughter’s fingers. She stood and inched closer, sniffing more of Emily’s hand. Then she ducked her head and bumped it against Emily’s palm.
Emily giggled and carefully petted Harley, which prompted the cat to arch her back and walk in circles.
“She’s so soft!” Emily said.
“She is, isn’t she?” Darren turned to me and added, just loud enough for me to hear, “No wonder you don’t like her.”
“Shut up,” I muttered. “Where’s her leash?”
He grinned and gestured at the kitchen. “In the bag with all her other stuff.”
“I’ll get it.” I trailed my hand across the small of his back as I headed for the kitchen. “But you’re putting it on her.”
Okay, I had to admit—watching Emily walking a horse-sized cat on a leash was pretty cute. Darren had held the leash until we’d made it to the park (and he’d even carried the beast of a cat when we’d crossed the street), and now that we were safely inside the park, he’d handed it over to Emily. She already knew how to walk her dog, and she was good about not pulling, not letting Harley get into something she shouldn’t, and keeping a solid grip on the leash.
Unlike Scruffy, Harley wasn’t prone to darting off after a squirrel. Instead, she’d crouch, stare at the squirrel, and wiggle her butt, which even I thought was hilarious. A few times, she tried to chase after the squirrel, but she wasn’t nearly as stealthy as she thought she was, and the squirrels easily eluded her.
Once, she did actually catch her prey, but to be fair, she’d been stalking a leaf. Apparently it wasn’t what she’d expected, either, because she spat it out and licked her chops as if she’d just tasted something terrible.
“Wish our suspects were that easy to catch,” Darren muttered.
“What? Like a leaf?”
“Yeah. You just walk up, cuff ‘em, done. Not like…” He gestured in the direction of a squirrel watching the cat from a safe distance.
“Huh. You’re right.” I nudged his arm. “That’s why I let you chase them these days.”
He huffed a breath. “Only because your ankle is jacked up.”
“And because I have seniority.”
“Hey. If I’m not allowed to make fun of your age, then you aren’t either.”
“What? I wasn’t making fun of my age. I just said I have seniority.”
“Senior, eh?”
I huffed, shook my head, and shifted my attention back to Emily and the cat. Harley had sprawled on the grass like a smug lion. Emily was lying on her belly next to her, but she was in her play clothes and the grass wasn’t too muddy, so… meh, she was having fun. Especially when Harley rolled onto her back and stretched, which made Emily giggle. She reached up to scratch Harley’s belly. At first, I thought Harley would attack her—she hadn’t been impressed when Darren had done the same—but instead, she stretched out her paws and squirmed, which prompted even more giggling.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Darren asked.
“Watching my daughter play with an animal?” I shrugged. “Of course.”
“Oh please. You watch her play with Scruffy all the time, and you don’t get nearly that big of a grin on your face.”
Was I grinning? Oh crap, I was. I schooled my expression and cleared my throat. “It’s something new for her. And she’s obviously having a good time.”
“Uh-huh.”
I eyed him. “What?”
“Nothing. Nothing.”
“Darren…”
He snorted. “Mark my words, baby.” He grinned. “You’re going to fall in love with this cat.”
“I am not going to fall in love with a cat.”
“Pretty sure you said you wouldn’t fall in love with your partner either.” He held up his left hand and tapped his ring finger.
I rolled my eyes. “I guess I should count myself lucky the cat doesn’t talk.”
“Oh please. You love my shit-talking, you love me, and you’re going to love that cat.”
“Hundred bucks says you’re wrong.”
“Hundred bucks?” He smirked. “Ooh, that’s a cocky wager. I’m in.”
I brushed a quick kiss across his lips. “Better swing by the ATM, then.”
“What? Why? It’s no fun if I just take the money right out of your account.”
Laughing dryly, I said, “And you call me cocky?”
He just grinned.
I shifted my attention back to Emily and Harley. Emily had picked a dandelion and was dragging it through the grass in front of Harley, who batted at it with her giant paws while Emily giggled.
No, I was not falling in love with this cat or any other, but something told me my daughter was going to want one sooner or later. And what was I going to do? Say no?
Fuck my life.
I’m getting a cat, aren’t I?
Chapter 4
Darren
Tap tap tap. Pet pet pet. Tap tap tap. Pet pet pet. Tap tap tap… tap.
“Mrroww.”
It turned out, there was no sterner taskmaster when it came to staying on track than a cat who demanded regular petting. I sat on the couch, laptop across my knees as I worked on some overdue case reports, and Harley sat on a pillow next to me, curled into a loose ball and looking dead to the world… as long as I kept petting her. If I missed a beat, she was quick to remind me to get back to work.
“You’re so spoiled.” I stroked over the top of her head and down her back. “Does Mark do this for you? I can’t imagine it.”
Not that he wouldn’t want to—Mark had to get his love and affection from somewhere, and until recently he hadn’t had a boyfriend the whole time I’d known him. He was also an admitted workaholic, and there was no way he had the time to spend an entire afternoon just sitting on the couch with his cat, petting her while he watched movies or wrote The Wire fanfiction or whatever it was a guy like Mark did when he wasn’t investigating other cops.
Andreas was in court today, testifying in a case we worked a few months ago. He’d done his fair share of bitching and moaning about him being called in to testify and not me this morning, and I’d blithely explained that that was the price of seniority. Then he’d smacked me across the ass, and… well, eventually he’d had to change his clothes into something less wrinkled before running out the door to get to the courthouse on time.
It was nice, not being alone in the apartment. I’d never really thought about it before, but I just didn’t spend a lot of time here by myself. If Andreas and Emily weren’t around, I usually ended up at my mom and stepdad’s house, helping her work in the garden or convincing him that his HOA really wasn’t made up entirely of crooks.
It was possible I had some abandonment issues.
But with Harley here, I felt relaxed. There
was another living, breathing, purring person right there with me, and I smiled every time I looked at her. She’d been here just over a week, and Harley already had two official pillows—one here on the couch, one in the bedroom right between our heads. She’d gone from bottle-breaking troublemaker to sweet and sassy cuddle cat, and it was adorable—even now, when she bit my finger to remind me to get back to work.
More adorable was watching Andreas with her. He hadn’t admitted anything out loud yet, but who was the one who got her an automatically-refreshing water fountain because he worried about her not liking it “stale, straight from a plain old bowl, who would want that?” Who was the one who’d picked out the softest pillow in the bedroom—which was mine—and donated it to Harley to sleep on? Who was the one I heard lapse into baby talk when he picked her up this morning as he waited in front of the coffeemaker for the pot to fill?
He wasn’t admitting it yet, but Andreas was in love.
It was going to suck to give her back.
My phone rang. I checked to see who it was—odds were good Andreas was calling to bitch about the DA again—but, nope. It was Mark’s number. Think of the devil. “Hey,” I said as I answered it. “Are you calling for proof of life? Because I think I can get her to meow on command at this point.”
“Um… excuse me?”
Oh shit, it wasn’t Mark. “I’m sorry, who is this?”
“It’s Ryan. Mark’s boyfriend? We met at your daughter’s wedding.”
Oh yeah, the doctor. I ignored the way my chest warmed at the mention of “my daughter’s” wedding—I was only eight years older than Erin, but it was still nice to hear—and got my head in the game. “Right, Ryan! How’s it going over there? How’s Mark?”
“Things are improving,” he said in a tone of voice I knew well. It was warm, professional, and gave absolutely nothing away. “He’s actually asleep right now, but I know he was planning on checking in with you guys before the fatigue got the better of him, so I figured I’d see how Harley is.”