Confused, she tossed back the covers. “Oreo?” He never got out of bed before her; the lazy lug could sleep all day. Chilly, she grabbed her blanket, wrapped it around herself, and staggered down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she stopped short.
Parker was in one of the chairs, Oreo sitting at attention at his side, the both of them staring down at what Parker held in his lap.
Two wriggling, mewling kittens.
Dog and man looked up at her in unison. Dog smiled.
So did the man. Parker’s gaze made her heat up from the inside out. She could stare at him all day, at that latent energy, the lean muscles, the smile . . . Of course he wasn’t exactly the sweet, gentle sort of man she’d dreamed about, but then again, he was holding kittens—Wait. “Why are there kittens in my kitchen?” she asked.
“Interesting hair,” Parker said.
Good. This was good because it was a sharp reminder that he was not sweet or gentle at all. Period. But she still reached up and felt her hair. Yep, definite bed head. Yikes. Possibly when he’d said “interesting hair,” he’d actually been sweet and gentle there for a second.
And had she taken the time to remove her mascara last night? She glanced at her reflection off her toaster. Nope. She had raccoon eyes. She was quite the catch. “Don’t change the subject,” she said.
“I wasn’t aware we were in the middle of a conversation.”
“You have two kittens in your lap,” she said. Except they weren’t in his lap. They were climbing up his chest. One, an adorable gray ball of fluff, had made it to his shoulder and stopped to lick his ear.
Zoe understood that. She wouldn’t mind doing the same.
The orange tabby one leapt off Parker and landed on top of Oreo.
One-hundred-plus pounds of Bernese mountain dog froze in place while the kitten nonchalantly padded along the dog’s back and sat on top of his head.
Oreo blinked, and the kitten leaned forward and batted his nose.
Parker laughed, grabbed the kitten by the scruff of its neck, and set it back in his lap. “Stop terrorizing the poor dog.”
“He doesn’t like cats,” Zoe said, and then shut up in shock when Oreo leaned in and licked the kitten’s face, leaving it drenched.
“Mew,” the kitten said, staring up at Oreo adoringly.
“Woof,” Oreo said softly. Gently. And then nosed the kitten, who fell over in Parker’s lap and exposed its belly.
Oreo licked that, too.
And then the sound of little kitty purrs filled the room.
Zoe was boggled. “Okay, someone needs to explain what’s going on here.”
Oreo looked at Parker.
Parker snorted and met Zoe’s gaze. “The cute little girl next door has big eyes and was crying over the kittens she wasn’t allowed to keep. And, apparently, I’m a sucker.”
“For big eyes or crying girls or kittens?” she asked.
“All of the above.”
Dammit. That was sweet and gentle, too. But this thought took a backseat to the realization that he hadn’t shaved and had stubble on his jaw. She wanted to feel it on her skin.
Everywhere.
And then he rubbed his hand over that jaw and the ensuing scraping sound made her good parts quiver. “So you’re just a closet softie?” she asked dubiously, and damn she sounded all breathless.
“No.” One corner of his mouth quirked as if he knew where her mind had gone. “Well, maybe a little,” he said. “Don’t tell.”
He was teasing her. Because no way was he a softie, in any sense of the world.
And yet the proof was crawling all over him.
“One of my rules was no pets,” she reminded him, having to fight the urge not to pick up the adorable gray kitty.
“Actually,” Parker said, “you said no dogs.”
Crap. He was right. Since when was everyone but her right? “What are their names?”
Parker shook his head. “Kaylie didn’t name them; her mom wouldn’t let her because she wasn’t going to be allowed to keep them.”