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It’s passionate. It’s pure. It’s perfect.
I think I’m in love.
Chapter Thirty-Nine: Milo
Love is funny. At first, I was worried that Libby wouldn’t love me because of my body. I was afraid me being half-bull (in appearance) would be a shock and maybe a turn-off. Then, I had a moment during Libby’s second shower (necessitated by what happened after our first shower) where I started to worry that she only loved me because of my body. If she loved me at all. Maybe she just likes having a guy with supersized parts to make her come over and over.
All my fears and doubts blow away like dandelion fuzz in the breeze when she steps out of her bedroom. Libby is wearing black wooly pajamas covered in little skulls and a sated, sleepy-eyed smile. She comes right toward me and hugs me. “Are we snowed in?” she whispers.
“Not really, but it’s messy out.”
“Movies and cat cuddling?”
“I like it.”
I sit on the couch. She sits on my lap. Freddy and Felix sit on her lap. I sigh and pretend that this is my life now, not just a wild winter weekend that I’ll always cherish.
“Do you—do you work at the Night Market every night?” Libby asks softly. The Discovery Channel is showing some documentary about reptiles, but neither of us are really watching it.
“Mostly. I don’t have anything else to do. I tend to make weapons during the day for a few hours. Sometimes on a slow night, I work at the stall, too. It’s a great crowd-pleaser. I sell a lot of stuff on the nights when I show off my skills.”
“I bet.” Libby leans back on my chest, looks up, and kisses the underside of my hairy jaw. It’s a gesture that’s casual, but automatic.
Like I’m in her heart.
“Think we could do dinner sometimes before you go to work?”
“Absolutely.” My tail flip-flips happily on the couch. “And I can take off a few nights a week. I never needed a set schedule before, but now that I have a... have a girlfriend,” I decide to plunge in with the scary words, “I need to make date nights and spending time together a priority.” I finish my sentence and lock my lips. This will be the part where she tells me to slow down. Back off. Take it easy.
Libby sits silently on me, stroking the kittens in their sleep. Then she nods. “Maybe weekends? And maybe some nights I can come with you to work? I love the Night Market, and it looks like I’ve only been scratching the surface. I could browse. You could sell.”
“That would be perfect. I could introduce you to some of my friends, too. Genesis, Leo, and Robbie. Oh, do you know the local cop, Officer Walsh?”
Libby shakes her head and reclines in my lap, this time scooting down so she lays across my legs. I rest my hand on her stomach as the cats shift and resettle, one on my shoulder, one kneading his bitty paws on Libby’s neck. “Hey, Milo? Are those friends human?”
I pause. “Somewhat. Ardy Walsh is. But he’s also a pooka. Leo’s a werewolf. Genesis is the only one who’s totally inhuman. He’s a gargoyle.”
Her eyes get wide and her mouth drops open. “Like, with wings? He can fly?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s cool.”
“Mmhmm.” I clasp her fingers in mine.
“Next up on Discovery—The Scottish Wildcat.”
“Oooh.” We say in unison. Libby’s stomach rumbles under our intertwined fingers.
“Do you have any popcorn, sweetie?”
“I’ll get it.” Libby swings off of my lap and lands lightly on the floor.
I confess to staring (and drooling) as I watch her tight, adorable backside swaying as she pads to the kitchen.
Chapter Forty: Libby
We do popcorn and movies. We brave the snow once the blizzard passes, walking around the block in the late afternoon to feel how cold and deep everything is. We throw snowballs. Mine are like ping pong balls against his cannonballs. He’s bigger, but I’m faster. When he gets me, I feel like someone dumped a bucket of snow on me. When I get him, it must be like fighting off a cloud of gnats, lots of little bites at a time.
