Page 77 of Lethal in Pink

“I’m stating facts. You’re good with her.”

A soft, quiet breath escapes her lips. The kitten burrows deeper into her warmth, pressing her tiny head against the floral fabric, and a sudden, heavy pressure tightens behind my ribs.

The clinic feels quieter now, the space between us closing down to the stainless steel counter separating us. Amiyah leans her hip against the edge, cradling the sleeping tabby against her dress, and for a few minutes, neither of us says a word.

“I have a cat back home,” I say, the confession slipping out before I can catch it.

Amiyah looks up from the kitten.”Really? I wouldn’t have guessed you as a cat dad.”

“Yea, I’ve had her since I was seventeen. She’s my world.”

Amiyah smiles and I go weak in my knees. Her smile is fucking lethal.

“That’s actually…sweet.”

Heat creeps up my neck.

I clear my throat, pushing off the counter. “Come on. Let’s put her to bed so I can clock out.”

She follows me back to the recovery kennel, holding the sleeping tabby against her chest like fragile glass. I prep the heating pad, leaning in to lay it down and crowding her slightly against the metal counter because the back room is too damn small for two people.

She doesn’t back up. She just tilts her chin up to clear my shoulder as she carefully lowers the orange heap into the fleece lining, moving with extreme care so she doesn't disturb the fresh incision.

When the kitten stirs and tries to scramble sideways, my hand goes right over hers to guide her palm flat against the fleece. Her skin is warm under mine, and she doesn't pull away—she just freezes, her breath hitching slightly against the side of my neck as we settle the cat together.

The kitten settles with a tiny sigh. The monitors beat a steady rhythm. There’s no reason for us to keep standing three inches apart in a room that smells like rubbing alcohol and warm wool, but neither of us makes a move for the exit.

Amiyah glances down at her watch. It’s a deliberate motion—the universal signal that the moment is ending. She lifts a hand to tuck a loose strand of gold behind her ear.

“I should let you finish up,” she says softly.

“Yeah.” I drop my clipboard onto the desk, clocking out on the wall monitor. “Hey—are you free tomorrow after your afternoon classes finish up? There’s a place on Sunset that does decent Korean. Around five?”

She stops, her hand lingering near her collarbone. Her eyes track over my face—that rapid, calculating scan she does whenever she’s trying to anticipate my angles. Then the edge of her mouth lifts.

“Maybe,” she says.

I know how her mind works now. Maybe means she isn't giving me the satisfaction of an instant yes. Maybe means she’s going to spend all night thinking about it, pick out that specific floral dress in the morning because she knows it drives me crazy, and then show up on Sunset like it was her idea all along.

“Cool,” I say, keeping my tone casual while my chest does a sudden, violent kick. “I’ll see you tomorrow at five.”

She gives me a single, sharp nod, turns on her heel, and heads for the door.

I lazily brush a hand through my hair and sigh. Kiho’s girlfriend may have been right all along.

I’m fucked.

Sunset Boulevard at five on a Thursday afternoon smells like charred brisket, hot fry oil, and stale beer spilling out of the open-front bar across the street. The heavy bass from the speakers vibrates right through the sidewalk as people push past in three different languages.

I spot her near the curb.

She’s wearing a pink Blackthorn hoodie with the sleeves pushed up her forearms, tiny denim shorts, and white sneakers with bright pink laces. Her blonde hair is pulled into a half updo, framing her face.

I raise a hand. Her eyes lock onto mine, and the tight, careful set of her jaw drops off completely.

“You’re late,” she says as I step up.

“Business class let out, then I had to drop by the clinic to check on the tabby and sprint home to shower,” I say, taking her in and glancing down at the denim. I’m wearing a black t-shirt and black wide-legged pants that catch the breeze off the street. “You look entirely too comfortable.”