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)
“Why not?”
May pauses, her gaze locked with the cat. “One is a thief and the other smokes catnip almost 24/7, so what she says isn’t always accurate.”
“Catnip, huh?” I shrug. “Well, we may as well give it a go.”
“Wait, she says there’s more, and it’s all bad.” May listens for another moment, then meets my gaze, her lips curved in a slight frown.
“What is it? Are they drug runners or secret hitmen?” I ask.
“Worse. She says they’re both dog people.”
6
MAY
It's not rocket science for me to discern which individual is smoking catnip and which is a slut. I mean, thief.
“Cece is attempting to get at your man. I told you she’s a thief,” Mousey blurts out as she prances around the room. Carson isn’t mine, but I don’t care for the way Cece is fluttering her lashes at him. Who even has lashes like that? They remind me of a million spider legs. It's creepy.
We have a job to do here, I remind myself. There’s no time for this. People don’t need to be flirting. Not that I can blame Cece. Carson is that rugged kind of handsome man who can pull off a suit or jeans. The only thing he'd have to do to switch looks would be to shave, but maybe not. I bet he gets his five o'clock shadow by two.
I'm sure Carson is eating up Cece's attention, too. He's asking her a million questions. I mean, that's what he's supposed to be doing, but still. Nonetheless, I’m allowed to be annoyed by it.
Cece is breathtakingly beautiful, besides the lashes. She is tall enough that Carson doesn’t have to stare down at her when they speak. Though, she is clearly trying to get Carson to look low, as evidenced by the way she pushes her chest out at him every opportunity she gets.
Is that shirt even considered an appropriate uniform? The crisp white button-up needs a few more buttons fastened. Every time she laughs, it makes her boobs jiggle. She flicks her long blonde hair over her shoulder, making sure it doesn't cover her killer cleavage. Why is she here and not on some runway?
“Are you checking her out, too?” I whisper, giving Mousey a glare that does nothing.
“Are you sure that’s the last time you saw him?” Carson questions Cece. I sit next to Lauren, who isn’t smoking anything at the moment but is shoving cheese puffs into her mouth by the handful. I steal one, popping it into my mouth. Not bad.
“I mean, I think.” Cece lets out a giggle. "We can always search for the rest of the maids." She nods back towards the other rooms. Of course she would suggest that. She’s trying to do anything she can to spend more time with Carson. I’m on to her little game.
“And they say I’m the hussy,” Mousey huffs.
“You want to go check it out, Carson?” I chime in before popping another cheese ball into my mouth. Two can play at this game.
“More than happy to show you.” Cece puts her hand on his shoulder. The cheese ball between my thumb and forefinger bursts into dust. Everyone swings their attention my way.
“Sorry.” I lick my finger clean of cheese dust.
“I don’t share.” Lauren pulls her bag of cheese balls away from me.
“Neither do I,” Cece and I both say at the same time, but mine is under my breath where hers comes out sultry and sexy. How do people learn to talk that way?
“Don’t touch.” Carson’s hand wraps around her wrist. He removes it as if it’s a tarantula.
I have touched him a few times, and he hasn’t done that to me. He might think she’s involved. I agree. She’s definitely the guilty one, and we should toss her into jail as soon as possible.
“Want me to scratch her? I’ll do it. A can of tuna, and it’s done.”
I fight a smile and shake my head.
“Fine, I’ll do it for free.” She flexes one of her murder mitts, the claws frightfully long and sharp.
This is exactly why I love cats.
“Mousey!” I hiss when she makes a beeline for Cece. I can’t blame the woman for wanting Carson. The man is beyond sexy and way out of my league. He probably didn’t remove my hand because he considers me the little sister type. That thought rankles.
Cece lets out a small scream when she sees Mousey going straight for her. She tries to jump up and I think into Carson’s arms, but he steps back at the same time as he leans down and scoops Mousey off the floor into his arms.
Poor Cece hits the ground with a thud. A few of the buttons on her blouse pop open, revealing her red bra. I swing my eyes toward Carson to see if he’s checking her out, but his attention is on Mousey, who has made herself at home in his arms.