Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
“Are you okay?” I offer my hand to Cece.
Lauren cackles from her seat.
“Smoking the catnip.” Mousey purrs smugly.
“I don’t need your help,” Cece hisses at me, batting my hand away to get up on her own.
“I don’t sound like that when I hiss, do I?”
“Mousey.” She is not being helpful. Funny, but not helpful.
“Be nice,” Carson orders the cat, keeping her close to his chest. He’s going to have hair all over him, but I’ve got a lint roller in my bag. It’s a necessity when you work with cats.
I walk over to Carson, reaching out to take Mousey from him. She’s enjoying being in his arms a little too much. Seems that everyone is vying for his attention.
Cece gets to her feet. “You’ve always been a little shit.” She points her perfectly painted nail at Mousey. Is she even a maid? There isn’t one chip in those nails.
“Tell that tramp she better sleep with one eye open. Next time there won’t be anyone around to stop me.”
“I’m not telling her that! I can’t just go around threatening people. You need to calm down.”
“Are you pretending to actually be having a conversation with a cat?” Cece says. I don’t miss her judgmental tone. Maybe I should just let Mousey have at her.
“I think we’re done here. Thank you for your time.” Carson interrupts the situation before I can do or say something I might regret. He takes my elbow, leading me out.
“Let me know if there is anything else I can help you with going forward. And I mean anything.” Cece emphasizes that last word as the door closes behind us.
7
CARSON
The maids were no help to our investigation. Their knowledge of Mrs. Farrol’s cat’s movements was minimal at best, and they couldn’t remember seeing anything strange the day he disappeared.
“Mousey was right about Cece.” I walk with May toward the main area of the house.
“That she’s a slu–” May coughs. “I mean, a liar?”
“Definitely. And the other one was on some completely different plane of existence. I couldn’t get a single straight answer from her.”
“Too much catnip.” May shrugs as Mousey prowls along in front of us, her tail twitching slightly. “Where to next?”
“We need to speak with the butler, but barring that, we should check the grounds. Whoever took the cat had to enter and leave without being noticed. There’s no way they could’ve come down the front drive with all the security this place has.”
“Right.” May nods as we enter the foyer.
Mousey trots for the front door.
“Hang on.” I realize this might make me part of some delusion, but I have a question for the cat. “May?”
She looks up at me, her pink tongue darting out to wet her lips. God, does she have any clue what a stunner she is? Dressed so demurely, her messy bun, the way she walks, even the gentle way she handles the cat–she’s enticing beyond anything I can explain. It’s like … Well, it’s like she’s my catnip.
“Um, Carson?” she asks.
Shit, I’d gotten caught up in my thoughts about what I’d like to do to her lips. To all of her, really. “Could you have Mousey show us the ways she comes and goes to the outside? I have a feeling she doesn’t use the front door.”
“You don’t need me to ask. She heard.” May’s gaze follows Mousey as she disappears down the main hallway that leads toward the back of the house. “You know, cats always listen. They’re better than humans at being good listeners. They may pretend not to hear us, they may flat-out ignore their humans, too. But they always listen. I’m just lucky enough that I can hear them, too.”
I study her face and consider the openness of her words. “Do you need someone to listen, May?” I step closer to her, unable to stop myself from wanting to be near her.
She swallows hard, her lips parting. “I have cats. I have–” Her breath catches when I put my palm to her cheek. Gently, so fucking gently against her soft skin. “A person. Do you want a person who will listen?”
Her pupils expand, widening and eating up the pretty blue of her irises, and my heart seems to kick into higher gear. “I don’t … I don’t do well with people. Not like I do with cats.” Her voice is breathy, so fucking sexy.
“Maybe you haven’t tried the right person.” I focus on her lips, drawn inexorably toward them. The sweetness of a kiss from her–I can’t even imagine it.
Someone clears their throat. “Mr. Blair? I believe you were looking for me?”
May blinks and steps back.
I’m not a naturally violent man, but if I were, I’d wring the butler’s neck for interrupting. “Yes, I have some questions.”
May looks around. “Mousey’s gone. I should follow her.” She steps away, but I take her wrist.