Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
“Cat!” I really need to learn the cat’s name. It runs past me towards the boat. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be outside!” It hides behind it. “I mean it’s the Pacific Northwest, so I highly doubt you’ll get sunburn on your skin, but come on.”
It yawns.
Of course it does. I’m a day in, and I’m going to be responsible for killing the naked cat that looks like it belongs in an Egyptian textbook.
It doesn’t budge, so I choose to walk over to it and stand. Then take in the full view of the small back yard. “Is this what you wanted, Jake?”
My whisper feels like it carries across the breeze.
Tears well in my eyes.
He’s not gone. He’s just missing in action. I’ll find him.
“Come on, cat.” I nod to the cat. “We should head back in before I get blamed for un-aliving you.”
I flinch when it answers with an ear-splitting meow.
A shiver courses through me as it stares almost behind me then bolts back toward the house.
The last thing I need is to lose my boss’s pet. “Cat!” I literally don’t know what else to call him as I sprint toward the house, stopping way too late, and running directly into Cyrus instead of the front door.
I wish I could say it was a gentle sort of run and stumble, but instead it’s more or less a faceplant against his burly chest while I grip his biceps to steady myself and then make an embarrassing open-mouthed squeak against his naked skin.
He doesn’t even have chest hair—yup, that’s what I fixate on, no chest hair, just firm golden muscle that feels like his boobs might even be bigger than mine, nicer, better proportioned.
I’m afraid to move.
To breathe.
“His name isn’t Cat. That’s insulting, even for this mess of naked.” Cyrus’s voice is low, grumbly. He’s pointing at the cat like it personally offends him, but the cat starts to prance around his legs like they’re best friends.
Cyrus mutters a curse.
“Sorry,” I mumble, dropping my hands from Cyrus’s biceps and attempting not to inhale his scent, like warm sunshine and sunscreen. “I didn’t mean to misname the cat, and I just figured it was better if he was taken to his litter box, then he ran past me when I opened the door.”
Cyrus stares me down. I realize he’s massive, but he feels even bigger in this moment, more domineering, terrifying almost. His tempestuous blue eyes search mine like he’s waiting for me to flinch or step back farther. “The cat has a weirdly specific schedule and also has several litter boxes in the bar and around it outside. He even has a special door. Interesting how easily you’re taken advantage of when something gives you attention.”
My stomach instantly drops at his cruel words. I frown. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Bast.”
“You mean the cat?” I point.
“His name is Bast, inside joke,” he clarifies, looking way out at the sea, a smirk on his lips like I amuse him as the waves crashing against the rocks in a rhythmic cadence that almost sounds like music. “And I think he prefers it to Cat.”
“Cat is a normal cat name, more normal than a God of the Underworld.”
“He’s not normal.” His only answer before turning around, giving me his muscled back.
I start to follow him and Bast back in when a small squirrel runs up the tree, stops and holds something out to me.
I laugh. “Is your squirrel also not normal? I mean he’s holding out a nut to me right now. Seems very proud of it, like he’s the squirrel from—”
“Like he’s the squirrel from Ice Age?” Cyrus stops in his tracks and looks over his shoulder. “It’s cute how you think you’re so special that a squirrel who collects nuts would give you one.”
I laugh. “I feel like I owe him a gift too.”
Cyrus is in front of me in an instant, Bast at his side. “No.” It comes out threatening, dark. “Don’t ever exchange any sort of…gifts with Rat.”
“I meant the squirrel.”
“His name is Rat.”
“I think you have a naming problem.”
Cyrus grabs my wrist then drops it. “Some creatures just choose their own names, however stupid.”
“And you? Did you choose your name?”
His lips twitch. “And if I did?”
I scrunch up my nose. “It was just a question.”
“I’ve been called so many names I’ve almost lost count, Cyrus just seems…more kind, approachable.”
My eyebrows soar skyward. “Approachable?”
The way his eyes look me up and down sends heat through my body as he leans in and rasps. “What? Am I intimidating?”
“You’re huge.” My laugh is awkward and my voice sounds weak. “I mean you’re so tall, of course you are.”
His smile falters a bit. “So they say, so they say…”
“I should go get ready for the day I’m sure you have a lot to teach me.”
Cyrus nods his head. “Not everything can be taught with words, Cleo. Enjoy your morning, I’ll meet you soon.” He walks back into the bar but stops and presses his hand against one small brick. It has a sad looking tree etched in it in chalk. He lowers his head and shudders.