Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Not even if he’s the sexiest bad guy in the entire world, and you’re pretty sure he’s actually a really good guy, who’s somehow wandered off the straight and narrow, but who can be saved by the love of a good woman, who is you.
You are NOT that woman. You are the woman who’s going to grab a cab back to town and forget you ever had an absurdly protracted crush on this man.
The inner voice is spot on, but I don’t reach for my cell to see if there’s a cabbie working on Thanksgiving, who might be willing to come pick me up in the middle of nowhere.
Instead, I join Matty as he lifts the hatch, revealing what looks like a box covered by a big black blanket. But it’s a small box, way too small for whatever Matty has hidden back here to be human.
I exhale, relief making my hand tremble as I drag my fingers through my hair. “Thank goodness. I thought it was a person back here.”
His frown deepens as he glances my way. “A person?”
“Yeah, a person. Someone who had stowed away in your car or something.” I shrug. “Or maybe someone who needed help escaping the mob or something. I don’t care if you’re in deep with the Sweetwaters. I know you, Matty. You wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone a person.”
“Well, you’re wrong about that,” he says, reaching for the blanket. “I kill flies all the time, and it looks like my race car moves made the cat sick.” He whips the fleece away to reveal a tiny cat with giant fluffy paws and the biggest eyes I’ve ever seen. Even crouched beside a puddle of its own sickness, it’s so ridiculously cute, I can’t stop the girly cooing sound that escapes my throat. “Oh my God, so precious.”
“And dangerous,” Matty mutters. “If the Sweetwaters find out I have him, I’m fucked. I’ll never get back in their good graces. I’ll probably have to leave town. Forever.”
My heart lurches at the thought, threatening to hurl itself off the nearest cliff if such a thing were to come to pass. I can do without Matty for a few months while he gets his wanderlust out of his system roaming South America, but not for forever. “Why? What’s the big deal about this little guy?” I glance back at his sweet face. “I mean, he’s beautiful, but—”
The precious floof takes that moment to let out another bone-rattling burp, one so powerful his head wobbles from the vibration, and the pieces fall into place.
Pressing a hand to my chest, I wheeze, “Holy crap, it’s Clyde the Belching Kitten! You kidnapped Clyde the Belching Kitten! Bear, his owner has been worried sick. I’ve seen his videos on social media. He keeps raising the reward money every day, hoping someone will come forward with a lead on who took his little buddy away.”
I turn to face Matty, my jaw dropping. “You took his little buddy away. Or the Sweetwaters did, but you took him back. And now you’re going to collect the reward money. That’s why you did this, isn’t it? Because you need the cash? Why do you need cash so badly, Matthew?”
“So now I’m Matthew?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Would you like to add Eugene in there, as well? That’s what my mother calls me when she’s reading me the riot act.”
“What kind of shitstorm are you caught up in Matthew?” I ask, refusing to be distracted by the reminder that his middle name is Eugene, a name I find inexplicably adorable for reasons that have a lot to do with a Rapunzel cartoon I’ve watched way too many times to be considered a fully adult human. “And how do we get you out of this shitstorm without ransoming a defenseless fluffy paw pants with the best face that was ever a face?”
Matty lets out a sound somewhere between a sigh of exasperation and a laugh. “Since when do you care so much? You hate animals.”
“I don’t hate animals. I’m scared of them,” I correct, my tone softening as Clyde emits another plaintive meow. “But I’m not scared of Clyde. He’s clearly a harmless sweetie pie who needs love.” He belches again and I add, “And acid reflux medicine. I wonder if his owner’s tried that? I know they have it for babies. My friend Brenda has to give her six-month-old a dropper full of medicine every night before bed or he screams until one in the morning from reflux pain. Surely, they have something similar for cats.”
“I don’t know, Nora,” Matty says in a tone that makes me think he’s forcing himself to be patient. “And right now, I don’t have time to worry about it. I just need to get this vomit cleaned up and find a place to lay low while I figure out what to do next. And unfortunately, you’re coming with me. I can’t send you home until I’m sure Wimpy is going to leave you alone.”