Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
But cats? They were thinkers. All that time sleeping was simply a ruse. Cats used those supposedly dreamy hours to plot all sorts of deeds.
And seriously? At this point, couldn’t everyone see what had truly gone down?
Fine, fine. He would have to spell it out. He had excellent ears, and a sharp mind after all. And he’d heard everything. Every single, solitary detail about Mister Sexy Pants.
Every time his human had swept out to the balcony, that device in her hand—her big hand, he might add—he’d listened. He’d heard. And of course, he’d understood.
The woman wanted the man and blah, blah, blah.
Hot Stuff had simply wanted to help. He liked his person. She fed him well and entertained him with her antics. Plus, those plants she nurtured on the balcony were divine. Hot Stuff was a carnivore of course, but her kale could almost make a feline go vegetarian.
Almost.
In any case, he digressed.
Occupational hazard of being a cat.
The point was this—big paws, my ass.
He’d meant to send the email. How else would he get his person closer to Mister Sexy Pants? He’d sent his human down the Rube Goldberg machine of love thanks to that Internet missive.
And to think, he hadn’t even gotten a thank you.
Well, no matter.
He’d found his thanks in other ways.
Like, the time he wandered past the open bathroom door, the shower running, the man in there acting out some fantasy the woman had. She’d come home, she’d found him in there, they’d made some noise.
And blah, blah, blah.
They were always doing that.
And, truth be told, he was always watching.
Because the truth about cats is . . . some of them are just peeping Toms.
Epilogue
Head-To-Head Competition
Veronica
* * *
A Year Later
* * *
Milo rushes to the door, finger-combing his hair. He’s going to be so late for work. But that’s the risk with morning sex, and I have no regrets.
Sometimes you get carried away when you wake up next to an inked, bearded babe who loves you madly.
I help him along by hooking Trudy to a leash and handing him the strap.
He flashes a dirty grin as he takes the leash. “Is it obvious I just got some?”
I raise a brow. “You want it to be obvious for all your employees?”
“Hmm. Good point. I should be professional,” he says, intensely serious. “Especially since it’s National Solo Flight Day.”
The chalkboard outside his shop will greet customers with the words: Love Yourself a Lily More Today.
“And Felix already texted me and said the online orders are ticking up for lilies,” I say. Felix is the new flower shop manager. My mom recommended him. He trained at her garden shop in Connecticut and wanted to move into the city, so the florist job was a perfect fit. Plus, Mom enjoyed matchmaking—she loves Felix, and she loves Milo, and she wanted to help.
How could she not love my boyfriend? He won her heart when I introduced them nearly a year ago at a dinner in the city at my favorite sandwich shop. He won Hazel’s heart too. And Ellie’s. That’s his style. He’s outgoing and clever, and he likes people.
Good thing I do too.
I also enjoy people-watching, especially when it involves my sister and a certain friend of Milo’s.
One night, when Bryan comes back to town for part of the summer, my boyfriend and I gather the crew at the arcade, then split into teams at the Skee-Ball machines. Drew says he can handle the game solo and it’s only fair to the rest of us since no matter what team he was on, he’d win. Probably true with that arm of his. Ellie grabs Bryan for her team, saying she needs to catch up with him. I go with my guy, which leaves my sister scowling at the tall, broody, blue-eyed Axel Huxley, who’s even broodier in that leather jacket, leaning against the wall by the last Skee-Ball machine, looking dangerous and smart.
“I can play solo too,” Hazel insists, all tough girl.
“It’s your special skill,” Axel grumbles.
“Are you sure about that? I’d say it’s yours, Huxley,” Hazel retorts.
The thriller writer unleashes a killer grin. “Your memory might need some work, Valentine.”
In slow motion, I turn my wide-eyed gaze to Ellie, silently asking, Did you hear that?
She nods big and long. Yes, I did, she mouths.
“You have a lot of senses that need a tune-up,” Hazel says. “Shall I list them?”
Fear flashes in Axel’s eyes, but then he shrugs it off. “Maybe save it for the next book, sweetheart.”
She doubles down by crossing her arms. “Aww, it still hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Ouch, does someone need some aloe?” Milo cuts in, then gently slides me in the direction of my sister. “Valentine ladies can play together. I’ll take my lawyer.”
Milo teams up with his friend, but all through the game, I catch Axel staring at my sister, and I don’t think that’s anger in his eyes.