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I need to use the bathroom. And I definitely need to stretch out my back and neck, which feel a little like they’ve been slammed in a set of industrial doors. Better than sleeping on the bare floor in my apartment but only a little.
“Can I move you? Will you be a nice kitty or are you going to eat my face?”
I shift slightly, testing the waters, and those claws dig in. Hard. The purring stops, replaced by a guttural growl. Fabulous. At that moment, I hear keys in the door. The claws go deeper, and I grunt.
Parker tiptoes inside with a cardboard box in her arms. When her eyes meet mine, she freezes. And then she sees the giant lump of cat on my chest and gasps.
“A little help, please. How do I get him off me?”
“I have no idea,” Parker whispers, her gaze darting between Mr. Eds and me. “I’ve never seen himona person. This is … unprecedented.”
Carefully, Parker steps inside, closing the door and setting her box on the table. The whole time, Mr. Eds doesn’t take his eyes off mine. It’s eerie. Isn’t there some old wive’s tale about cats stealing your breath? Or your soul?
Looking at Mr. Eds, I’d believe either one.
“Hey, Mr. Eds,” Parker says in a sugary sweet voice. I almost laugh, but the green eyes inches from my own stop me. “Can you be a nice kitty?”
I groan as the cat stiffens, digging in his claws. “That’s a resounding no. He is a very, very bad kitty. Or else he doesn’t like being associated with a talking horse.”
Parker stops just a few feet away like she’s unsure how to proceed. “He doesn’t likeanything.”
“For a few minutes, he seemed to like me. Then he decided to attach himself to my chest by way of his talons.”
Mr. Eds decides at this very moment to remove his stabby little razors from my pectorals, and in a flash of black, he’s gone.
“Wow,” Parker says. “That was … “
She trails off when her gaze lands on my chest. Then her mouth curves up in a smile, and it’s the best thing I’ve seen all morning. So far.
Pointing, she says, “You still seem to, um, have a cat on you.”
I sit up and then pull my shirt away from my body to look. Sure enough, black hair in the shape of a large feline is right in the center of my white tank.
“Is Mr. Eds going to be a dealbreaker to this fake relationship, Wolverine?” Parker teases.
There it is again:fakerelationship. Is it just me, or is Parker overly eager to keep saying the word? I swear, my head gives a little throb each time I eventhinkthe word.
“I require more caffeine for this conversation,” I grumble.
“Then I’ve come to save the day.” Parker hoists up the box she brought in and sets it on the coffee table.
Excusing myself, I head to the bathroom while Parker unpacks whatever is in the box. From the smell of it, pastries and coffee.
Parker’s bathroom is tiny, just like mine, but with pink practically bursting from the seams. Pink bathmat. Pink shower curtain. Pink towels. Even a pink toothbrush. Because I’m curious—notnosy—I peek in the shower and find that even her shower gel and shampoo are pink.
It makes me smile. But then I think about her pink dress last night and how good she looked. How good it felt to spend the evening with her, being introduced as her boyfriend, getting to have my arms around her, to dance with her, to hold her hand whenever I wanted.
And now … where does this leave us?
I return to the living room and stop when I see what looks like half a bakery set out on Parker’s coffee table.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked nowadays,” she says. “So, I bought apple muffins, apple cider donuts, apple strudel, and apple tarts.”
“This baker definitely has a type.”
She rolls her eyes. “You can’t have forgotten how obsessed Harvest Hollow is with its apples. Also, do you think it’s an accident that the nameAppiesis so close toapples?”
I snort. “I thought the name was short for Appalachian, like the mountains.”
