Page 28 of Murder Mittens

“As I fully plan on meeting your family, I could be talked into such a thing, although you will have to convince me. I will be very difficult to convince, especially if I don’t have this sewing machine in my life.”

I held out the appraisal. “I would have to pick between my face and the sewing machine, and I’m having trouble convincing myself I want the scars gone enough to walk away from this sewing machine, Sebastian. You have to be an adult for me. I’ll cry if I leave it here, because it’s that beautiful. I’m really not someone who likes to cry, but this machine is worth crying over.”

Sebastian checked the appraisal. “I’ll buy the machine, but you’ll have to modify your current living arrangements to be more pleasant for me, for I’m selfish and have control over the sewing machine. But as I’m a gentleman, you can use it most of the time. But I will be expecting time with it. Just to be clear. This is a selfish acquisition, because I will probably cry if I walk away from this, too. Also, I’m now going to insist I have to borrow your truck, and I’m going to take this to your family and have them watch it while we’re handling business. And I’m going to make a scene.”

He was going to make a scene? All he had to do to accomplish that was to show up in the first place. “You are such a cat, Sebastian.”

“I am. And I need this sewing machine. And I’m going to need packaging supplies to move it to your home until it can be safely taken to its permanent home.”

“My family is not expecting me back with the truck yet.”

“You better call them and notify them you’re coming back with a lion and a sewing machine.”

Carol stared at us with wide eyes, and I figured she needed some time to process my insanity—and possibly Sebastian’s insanity, too. The lion must have hit his head recently, as he seemed to be enjoying himself too much.

“That’s how you get beaten by a bunch of cranky cats.”

“You’re right. It is. Just call them and tell them I have to take you out for dinner first, but we really need this sewing machine to be safely guarded while we’re out. What excuse did you give them for this week?”

“I didn’t give them an excuse. I told them the truth. I’m going to a spa for the week.”

“Well, I guess I’m going to a spa for a week. This explains so much about your stubbornness. Obviously, I must poke my nose in your business.”

My virus wanted him to get a move on, and I’d be tested keeping her restrained until I lured him to a secondary location. “My momma did say I had to bring home a man. Can I use you as my excuse for why I picked Cincinnati? Have you ever been to Cincinnati before? I could just claim I’d wanted to seduce you while at the spa. Couples are welcome at the spa. Children are discouraged.” Making children wasn’t discouraged, and I wasn’t going to make Sebastian aware the place was designed with lycanthropes in mind.

Their rooms cost extra because they used furniture that might survive through amorous lycanthropes. They had soundproofed rooms, too.

“Do I get to stay in your room for the week?”

My virus made it clear there was only one appropriate answer to his question. As her desire aligned closely to my goal of making him roar for me, I nodded. “But you better put up a good fight with my family. And convince my momma you’re actually worth keeping around. If you get offed by a clan of lynxes, that’s not my problem. I’ll even mourn for the loss of my roars.”

“And you call me a cat.”

I shrugged. “I’ll contact my family, and we’ll take our sewing machine there, but I make no promises you will survive this.”

“Is this how lycanthropes normally behave?” Carol asked.

Sebastian smirked. “That depends entirely on the lycanthropes. What that asshole did to you is not how most of us behave. Miss Murder Mittens over there has been spending years vexing me. She’s a little slow, so she hasn’t figured out she can’t live without me yet. I’m sure she’ll figure it out soon enough.”

I was a little slow? I balled my hands into fists and rested them on my hips. “What was that, Mr. Mane?”

“You’re slow. All you’ve accomplished is making me roar from frustration. There are two other options you’ve failed to pursue. Not only are you slow, you’re not all that thorough. Are you sure you’re qualified to be handled by me? I am, after all, a lion. A perfect feline.”

I scowled. “You’re going to regret that, Mr. Mane.”

“Am I?” He chuckled. “That’s cute. Why don’t you give your family a call while I pay for your excess, Miss Murder Mittens?”

Damned lion. I hissed at him but headed for my truck so I could make a call and wait for the cops and CDC to arrive.

I leaned against my father’s truck and wondered what I’d tell my family. The truth would work the best. The truth would result in me joining Sebastian in being lightly tenderized for being a deceptively evil lynx.

That sewing machine needed to come home with me, and if I had to keep the lion, so be it. Not only would I keep the lion, I’d fight my family for him. His roars were mine, and I wasn’t going to share.

My virus approved.

After several minutes of delaying, I dialed the house line, sighed, and waited for someone to answer.

“Wells residence,” one of my many brothers answered.