Tyra moved deeper into the room and my eyes went to her to see she was looking at me.
“This isn’t trial by fire, honey,” she promised. “This is the welcoming committee.”
I knew that. I’d done this before.
I didn’t remind her of that. She was queen bee now.
Crank’s old lady had minions. I didn’t get into that kind of thing because Logan protected me from it, but Crank switched her out before Logan and I had ended anyway.
I had a feeling Tyra was not that kind of Chaos queen but one that was a lot different.
“Thanks,” I replied.
“We got off on the wrong foot,” Lanie said. “And Hop was—”
“We talked and I’m good with Hop,” I told her quickly so she wouldn’t worry. “I’m just...” I grinned. “Good.”
She grinned back. “Good.”
I took her in, liking what I saw. She was beautiful. She was classy. Hop was rough. He was a biker. The same could be said for Tyra and Tack.
Obviously that worked for them.
And I knew it would also work for Logan and me.
No halter tops and cutoffs.
Just me.
“I haven’t been a part of a welcoming committee yet,” Carissa spoke for the first time. “This’ll be awesome.”
“Batten down the hatches, Curly,” Tabby advised Carissa’s way. “And that’s not about the Chaos babes hittin’ town. That’s about us doin’ it with Elvira.”
I had a feeling she knew what she was talking about.
It had been a long time since I’d had a night on the town, or at least one that ended well.
But looking through the women, three of them my sisters of the blood and the heart, the rest my sisters of Chaos, I was looking forward to it.
High
“Here they are,” the woman announced, coming back into the room carrying two balls of fluff.
“Oh my God,” Millie breathed, and High turned his attention from the cat breeder to his girl.
When he did, he froze.
She didn’t.
Moving with purpose, but not in a way that would spook the kittens, she made it to the breeder and took both cats from her.
“That’s the boy.” The breeder touched the one in Millie’s right hand. “And that’s your girl.” She moved her hand to the one in Millie’s left.
“Look at you,” Millie cooed to the one on the right that she’d tucked up high on her chest. “You’re my own personal fluff ball, squishy-faced grumpy cat.” She turned to the other one, also tucked up high, and continued, “And look at you, my fluff ball, squishy-faced, pretty-pretty princess.”
High’s girls were going to fall head over heels for those kittens.
But right then, he was watching his Millie, alight with happiness, snuggle two tiny balls of fur and he did it fighting to breathe.
They weren’t her own babies.
But they were something to cherish.
There was no doubt she was going to cherish them.
And he was around so he got to watch.
Millie looked to the breeder. “These babies are the best things I ever spent money on.”
The breeder smiled.
Millie turned back to the kittens. “Time to go home,” she told them, then looked to High.
He forced himself to move. “Crates, babe.”
She nodded but asked, “Don’t you wanna meet them?”
He didn’t.
It wasn’t that he disliked cats. It was just that he was a dog man. He’d wanted to get a puppy for the girls for years but Deb didn’t like animals.
It was something he intended to do when he got a house. Buy a dog for them and for him.
Now they were all getting cats.
With the way Millie was right then, he didn’t mind.
But before he could say no, Millie shoved her right hand to him so he had no choice but to take hold of the boy kitten.
Christ, he was a squishy-faced grumpy cat. He looked kitty ticked.
He also stretched out a paw and clawed High’s whiskers with his thin baby claws, his big blue eyes staring at High with an intelligence High’d never noticed from any animal.
“Hey, Chief,” he muttered.
“That’s it,” Millie said, getting close to him. “He’s Chief.” She looked down to the cat she held. “And this little princess is Poem because only a poem could describe how beautiful she is.”
She’d always been good at naming precious things.
The memory made his voice rough when he said, “Let’s get them home, baby.”
Millie looked to him, searched his face, and smiled a sweet little smile.
“You’ve fallen in love,” she declared.
He had.
Twenty-three years ago.
“He looks pissed off,” High replied, and looked to the kitten. “But it’s a cute pissed off.”
“You’ve so fallen in love,” she returned, then stuck the other one out to him. “Here, try this one.”
She took Chief and gave him Poem and High looked down at her.
She was pretty, though she looked sad.
“Hope you’re smilin’ on the inside, darlin’,” he murmured to the cat. “?’Cause you’re goin’ to a home where you’ll get lotsa love.”
The cat yawned.
Millie giggled and pressed her side to his.
High looked to her, then to the breeder. “We’ll get outta your hair.”
She nodded, looking content, and she would be, seeing as it was clear she found a good home for her brood.
“Keep in touch,” she invited. “Send pictures.”
High guided Millie to the two cat crates he’d bought as Millie replied, “I will. Tons of them.”
“That’d be great,” the breeder returned.
They got the cats into the crates and got them out to his truck.
High pulled out of the drive and headed them home, doing all this with Millie twisted in her seat, cooing to the backseat constantly.
“Woman lives fifteen minutes away, Millie. We’ll get them home before they’re traumatized,” he teased.
“I can’t take my eyes off them,” she said. “They’re that perfect.”
He reached out and curled his fingers around her thigh.
“Happy?” he asked.
She didn’t answer.
So he looked her way and saw her eyes on him.
Before he turned back to the road, soft, sweet Millie finally answered.
“Yes.”
He heard it in that word.
He should have known it.
Five days he had her back.