Page 70 of Cat’s Guide To Romance

I slide my hand into Sparkle’s as we step outside. The night air is cool, and Sparkle takes a deep breath before looking back at the house.

“That went better than I expected.”

“Your mother invited me back. I consider that an overwhelming success.”

“She likes you.” Sparkle leans against my side as we walk down the porch steps. “Ferris might like your teleporting more than he likes you, though.”

“I’ll win him over.”

Sparkle laughs, but when we reach the bottom of the steps, he stops. His expression softens as he looks up at me.

“Thank you for behaving around Papa.”

“I promised I would.”

Sparkle slides his hands over my chest. He rises onto his toes and kisses me. I curl my arms around him, holding him close while his tail winds around mine. No fireworks this time. I’ve learned that lesson.

When Sparkle pulls back, he doesn’t go far. He rests his forehead against my chest while I stroke one hand slowly down his back.

“I still feel weird leaving when everyone’s cleaning up after dessert,” he admits.

“I know.”

“I know I don’t have to do everything anymore. Sometimes my body doesn’t seem to know that yet.”

I kiss between his ears. “You’ll figure it out.”

His purr rumbles quietly against me.

Maybe that’s why this little cat shifter got under my skin so fucking fast. Sparkle is learning that he doesn’t have to be useful to deserve a place in someone’s life.

And maybe I’m learning the same fucking thing.

Sparkle lifts his head and smiles at me, his ears relaxed and his tail still tangled with mine. “Take me home?”

My chest warms.

“Anywhere you want, darlin’.”

I wrap my arms around him, and the world folds around us.

24

SPARKLE

My apartment replaces the front yard of my childhood home. I’m getting better at being a teleporting passenger. My stomach barely flips anymore, though I still have my arms wrapped around Lucien when my feet settle onto my living room floor. I could blame that on teleporting, but I don’t.

Lucien keeps one arm around my waist and looks around like he hasn’t been here several times over the last few weeks. His gaze travels over the couch he claims is trying to eat him, the boxes I still haven’t unpacked, and the pile of paint swatches I haven’t bothered putting away.

“You bought another pillow.” He points toward the couch.

“I needed it.”

“You have twelve pillows on that couch.”

“They’re decorative.” I kick off my shoes and leave them beside the door while Lucien approaches the offending pillow.

He squeezes the plush pillow. “Okay, it’s so soft. I get it now.”