I wasn’t being mean, it was true.
His stomach looked like someone had inflated him.
“At least whoever had you before got you neutered,” I continued, putting my vest on the seat thing. “I can see zero evidence of your nuts, so whatever you’re licking is long gone. Move on.”
Yeah, I was being mean now, but if you looked at my ankles and shins and all the scratches I had on them from him, you’d understand why. We had a love-hate relationship—we loved to hate each other, and he let me know it with monotonous regularity. Basically, he deserved what I was dishing out.
That didn’t mean I hadn’t picked him and Doyle treats up while I was out today, though. I didn’t exactly hate him hate him, I just disliked him.
Then again, given how big he was getting, maybe I should cut back on them or buy him diet ones. Could you get treadmills for cats?
“You’re back,” Bex called as she walked toward me with a smile on her face. She was wearing cut-off sweats and a hacked-up t-shirt covered in paint, so I guess she’d decided to get more done instead of resting.
“Can you get treadmills for cats? He’s getting unhealthily fat.”
Squatting down, she picked Prince up and cuddled him to her chest. “I know, and his stomach’s solid. I called the vet earlier and made an appointment for tomorrow, just to make sure it’s not anything bad.”
“I’m fairly certain you’ll discover horns and the soul of Satan inside him. Maybe it’s evil growing daily?”
Rolling her eyes, she kissed the top of his purring head. “Don’t be mean, he’s a big love bug.”
The immense love bug meowed like he was agreeing with her and rubbed his face against her chest.
Fucker!
Doyle and I had reached some sort of stalemate with our relationship. After chewing through my sneakers, attacking my pants, attacking me while I was wearing my pants, and chewing my socks, I’d learned that treats and bones distracted him, so I made sure he didn’t run out.
At this moment, he was watching me as he crunched through his newest bone like he was proving how easy it’d be for his giant mouth to do the same thing to my leg.
Fucker number two!
Putting him back down again, she pointed at the second living room. “I’ve just finished doing the walls in there. I decided to do the blue border again, so I just need to leave it to dry. I thought it looked good in the living room, but it looks even better in that one because it’s bigger and has the massive fireplace.”
She looked so excited as she told me about it, and it lifted the mood that I’d brought home with me.
“Let me go and get changed out of this, and I’ll come check it out.”
I was leaving work in my uniform more often now because I was in a hurry to get home for once in my life, but that didn’t mean I wanted to stay in it any longer than I had to.
A quick wash-up and change into basketball shorts and a ratty t-shirt that I couldn’t bring myself to throw out, and I was back downstairs standing behind Bex as she bent down to paint a lower section of blue on the wall.
“The floor guy says we’ll have to s
tay somewhere else while he’s doing it. Apparently, sanding it down and the fumes from the varnish isn’t great to be around, plus it needs time to dry. It’ll only be for a couple of days once they’re done, but we’ll have to think of what to do with Prince and Doyle,” she muttered as she repeatedly rolled over one area, making it look worse than it had previously. “My parents have their cockatiel, Fingus, and yours have—"
“I think that spot’s done. You’re making it look tatty.”
Straightening up, she took a step back to look at it, accidentally bumping into me and knocking both of us off balance momentarily, until my arms around her waist managed to stabilize us.
Giving me a wry smile over her shoulder, she apologized. “I’m sorry. I think it’s fair to say that being an interior decorator isn’t in my future. To start with, I can never envision anything for the rooms. I prefer plain white walls with small accents to give the place character, and I’m shit at painting—”
“You’re not shit at it, you just had one patch that wasn’t taking the paint. If there’s any issues with it once it dries, we can go over it again and fix it.”
Biting down on her lip, she looked back at the spot in question and nodded. “Good plan.”
Then, taking a step away from me, she bent over again to inspect it more closely. This time my eyes went straight to her ass.
The cut-offs she was wearing were obviously from old sweats that’d been baggy on her. What made them really spectacular and added sexiness that had no business being added to them, was that just to the side of the seam that ran down her ass crack were holes.