Page 52 of Cat’s Guide To Romance

Then he realizes Tammy is getting her ass kicked while Jessa has barely any tables, so he moves half the section around. When one of the dancers complains about not having enough time between sets, Sparkle starts asking questions about how we schedule them at The Rot versus Flutter and Fangs. I don’t know when I lost control of my own club, but apparently I work for the kitty cat now.

He never asks me if he’s allowed. He just fixes things. The best part is that every decision makes sense. Eventually, the club settles. The crowd becomes manageable, the blood delivery arrives, and everyone gets back into their normal rhythm. Sparkle leans against the back counter and takes a long drink of water.

I stand beside him. “You managed my club.”

His eyes widen. “I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

He frowns down at his glass. I recognize that look. The one from the grocery store when he told me no one thinks Sparkle is smart.

“You’re very good at this.”

“I work at a club.”

“That isn’t what I mean.” I turn toward him and lower my voice. “You saw what needed to happen and made it happen. Everyone listened to you.”

His tail curls around his leg. “I’m used to keeping things running.”

There it is. All those years helping his mother. Cooking. Cleaning. Deliveries. Kittens. Working. Sparkle has been managing chaos most of his life. He just never had a title for it.

“Darlin’, I think you might be a thinky person.”

His head snaps toward me. “Don’t make fun of me.”

Fuck. I meant it playfully, but that question is already in his eyes, like he’s waiting for the punch line. I lean closer. “You told me no one comes to you for ideas. Maybe they fucking should. You’re so much smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

Sparkle goes pink and finishes his water. “Is everything okay now?”

I look around. Lars has the main bar under control. Cass is talking to one of the security guards near the entrance. The dancers are on schedule. The blood refrigerators are full again.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Sparkle grabs my hand.

I look down at our joined fingers. “What are you doing?”

“Stealing the owner for a bit.”

Before I can respond, he pulls me toward the stairs leading to my office. I follow willingly, enjoying the view until we reach the second floor. Sparkle opens my office door and walks inside like he belongs here. I think he does. I close the door behind us, muffling the music downstairs.

He turns toward me. “You look exhausted.”

“I’ve had a long night.”

“You know what’s funny?”

“What?”

Sparkle steps closer and pokes me in the chest. “You spent all that time telling me that I need to let people help me.”

Fuck. I don’t like where this is going. Mostly because he’s right. “I don’t know that I appreciate your tone.”

His grin widens. “You told me I deserve to relax. You told me I don’t have to do everything myself.”

“That sounds like something a very intelligent demon would say.”

“You manage your own club. You bar tend when someone calls out. You were going to fix a register in the middle of the night when you had another one that worked.”