Page 50 of Cat’s Guide To Romance

I close my eyes. One problem at a time. The bar comes first. The blood comes second. The register can be fixed. Probably. If not, I’ll rip it from the counter and throw it into the fucking Ohio River.

“Lucien?”

I open my eyes at the sound of Sparkle’s voice.

My pretty kitty stands on the other side of the bar wearing a pretty purple lacey top, his jingle bell collar, and an expression I can’t tell if it’s amusement or concern. His ears swivel beneath the pounding music as he looks from me to Ryan, then to the crowd waiting for drinks.

I stare at him long enough that Ryan elbows me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

Sparkle’s brows shoot up. “Wow. Hello to you too.”

“No, no. I mean...” I wipe my hands on a towel and move toward him. “Hello, darling. You look beautiful. Why are you here?”

His tail flicks behind him. “I wanted to see you.”

Oh. Every problem in my club disappears for three glorious seconds and the world stops spinning. “You wanted to see me?”

Sparkle rolls his eyes, but that gorgeous pink creeps into his cheeks. “Don’t make it weird.”

Ryan snorts loudly behind me.

Sparkle looks around again. “You’re working the bar?”

“One of my bartenders called out.”

Something crashes across the room. I wince. Sparkle slowly looks toward the sound before turning back to me.

“Everything is under control.”

Lars walks past carrying a case of blood. “Liar.”

Sparkle leans his arms against the bar. “Where’s your manager?”

“You’re looking at him.” I thumb towards my chest.

His ears twitch. Sparkle stares at me like I’ve said something particularly ridiculous. “You own this entire place, manage it, and right now you’re bartending?”

“I’m multi-talented.”

Another customer waves for my attention. I hold up a finger to Sparkle, take the order, make the drink, collect payment, then come right back. He hasn’t moved.

“I was hoping we could hang out,” he says, shoulders dropping. “But you’re really busy.”

“I can make time.”

“No, you can’t.” Sparkle gestures around us. “You have, like, thirty people waiting for drinks.”

“I can multitask.”

He glances toward the opening at the end of the bar. “Can I come back there?”

I blink. “Why?”

“Because I’m a bartender and you need help.”

“You came here to see me, not work.”