But at the time, I’d assumed she was someone else. Someone completely different.
Someone like Estelle didn’t need to worry about ending up alone.
“I wanted to keep Alice after the kittens were old enough to find homes,” she continued, lovingly petting the calico on her lap. “Some of the babies had a rough start. I had to bottle-feed Cindy every two hours. She was born with a cleft lip and she had trouble latching. Bobby was the runt, so he had to have formula too.”
A warm sensation spread through my chest at the thought of this woman working around the clock to make sure helpless kittens survived.
“That’s really amazing of you,” I told her. “In a big litter like that, there’s bound to be some eating issues.”
She nodded. “Marcia and Jan were bullies when it came to meal time.”
Amused, I held up a hand. “I’m sorry to stop you again. But did you name them after ‘The Brady Bunch?’”
“Yeah.” Her lips tipped up. “I mean, I had to come up with eight names that went with Alice.”
I barked out a laugh, startling her companion. Raising her head, Alice gave me the stink-eye before snuggling deeper in Estelle’s lap. Suddenly, I was a little envious, wondering what it would feel like to be in her place, nuzzling those soft warm thighs…
“Anyway,” she went on, forcing my attention up to her face. “My plan to find them homes didn’t quite work out, and now my landlord has given me an ultimatum—get rid of seven of them by Thanksgiving, or move out. My lease says I can only have two pets. Besides, it’s not fair to keep so many animals in such a small space. They need more than what I can give them.”
“But when the time came, you just couldn’t cut the cord, huh?” Steve filled in.
She cut him hard look. “No. All the cats have…” She stopped, seeming to think about her word choice. “Unique traits that make them somewhat unadoptable.”
My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Can you elaborate on that?”
“For example, Greg is a hair chewer. He got adopted by a family with a seven-year-old girl, and overnight he chewed a huge bald spot on her head. It was so bad she had to have her head shaved.”
“No shit?” I breathed out, earning a stern grunt from Steve.
“Swear words, Emery.”
We ignored him.
“Yeah, they were really upset. That poor kid…” Estelle cringed. “Marcia and Jan refuse to be separated. They go everywhere together. Someone tried to adopt Jan and they both went crazy when he put her in the carrier. Marcia attacked the guy.”
“Yikes. So, he walked?”
“No, he still took Jan. I’m pretty sure it was the worst three days of his life. Both cats spent their time apart pacing and meowing incessantly. Neither of them slept, so it was awful for everyone, including me.”
I got out a notepad to write all this down. “Okay, so we’ve got a hair chewer and some separation anxiety. I think I can work with that. What else?”
“Mike is the runner. He’s the reason for the chicken wire on the balcony. He needs outdoor time or he goes nuts. A nice family adopted him a couple months ago, and he got out. He went missing for a week and somehow made his way back here. They weren’t interested in keeping him after that.”
“Wow, that’s pretty crazy.”
“Then there’s Carol. I’m not kidding when I say she’s the most annoying cat in the world. She shreds the toilet paper, which is why I have to keep it in a container. If there’s a cup on the counter or the table, she knocks it off, and that’s why all my dinnerware is plastic. Most people just don’t have the patience for her. I understand it, but it still sucks.”
As I made the notes, my head started to spin. This was a bigger mess than I’d originally thought. “That’s five. What about the others?”
“Well, Peter…” She shrugged. “Peter’s just a dick.”
“Peter equals dick,” I muttered while scribbling the words. “Got it.”
“I’m serious—he’s really aggressive. No one in their right mind will want him.”
I grinned because that sounded like a challenge. “Three more to go.”
Estelle nodded.
“I want to keep Alice and Bobby. I know I’m probably not supposed to pick favorites, but”—cupping her mouth, she lowered her voice to a whisper—“I love them the best. That leaves Cindy. Her lip—it’s purely cosmetic. She doesn’t have any health issues, but people don’t like the deformity.” She frowned, her sad eyes becoming misty. “I’ve overheard the whispers when they see her. They call her ugly, but she’s not. She’s going to make someone so happy someday.”
Again, her deep affection for the cats caused my heart to clench. I knew all too well how the birth defect could put people off.
It obviously meant a great deal to Estelle that Cindy found a home where she was loved. I put a star next to her name, marking her as priority.
“I’ve got an idea,” Steve interjected, rudely interrupting Estelle’s emotional moment. “I’d like for you to look directly into the camera and say, ‘I’ve got ninety-nine problems and seven of those are pussy cats.’”
She raised a skeptical brow. “Seriously?”
“It’s genius, right? I just thought of it,” he boasted over his self-perceived cleverness.
“Okay, um…” She focused on the lens and cleared her throat. “I’ve got ninety-nine problems and seven of those are pussy cats?”
“Exactly, but say it as a statement this time, not a question. Add a little pep to your voice. I need to believe it.”
She blinked at him, like she couldn’t figure out if he was serious or not. “But I don’t have that many problems. I doubt I could even name twenty.”
“It doesn’t matter how many problems you really have.” He gave an exasperated sigh. “Just try to pretend.”
Her eyes narrowed and she pinned him with her gaze. “I think I just thought of another one.”
“Fantastic,” he responded, oblivious to the witty jab.
Highly amused, I covered my laugh with a cough. Estelle straightened her shoulders and recited the line one more time, delivering it perfectly.
“Okay, cut it,” Steve said. “Let’s take a short break.”
Gently removing Alice from her lap, Estelle stood up.
“If anyone wants sweet tea, I made a fresh batch yesterday. I know you said y’all have caterers, but I just don’t get company very often. It’s even made with organic sugar…” She trailed off, a hopeful expression on her face.
I recognized that look. Because I had it too. Of course she was starved for social interaction. She’d been holed up in her apartment for months trying to manage her situation.
Most of the crew shuffling around us murmured a polite ‘no, thank you,’ and went about their business.
“I’d love a glass,” I spoke up. “You can’t beat homemade.”
Once again, that smile lit up her face, almost knocking me on my ass. And in that moment, I knew I’d drink her sweet tea by the gallon if it made her happy.
Just as she poured my beverage into a plastic mason jar, Steve came into the kitchen. “The camera crew needs access to the cat room.”
I nodded, taking a long sip before setting my cup on the counter. Damn, that was good tea.
“It would be a good time to let the cats become acquainted with the changes,” I said to Estelle. “And I’d love to meet them.”
Unable to contain her excitement, Estelle did a little happy dance with her feet.
“You’re going to love them. Well, most of them. Be right back.” She pranced out of the room, and a minute later several cats sauntered out of the hallway. Estelle was close behind, and she pointed at the two calicos similar to Alice. “That’s Marcia and Jan. The three gray tabbies under the table are Greg, Mike, and Carol. The light orange one is Cindy, and this little guy is Bobby.”
I looked down to see a small black furball winding around her ankles. Estelle’s enthusiasm was infectious, and
I found myself grinning like a fool.
Taking out my phone, I started snapping pictures so I could make sure I learned to recognize everyone. A dark-orange tabby hopped up onto the counter next to me and sniffed at my arm.
“Careful,” Estelle warned. “That’s Peter.”
“Right. The dick.” I pointed my phone at him and snapped a pic. “What would happen if I pet him or tried to pick him up?”
“I can’t say I recommend it,” she responded apprehensively. “But this is your show.”
When it came to aggressive cats, part of my job was pushing the boundaries and finding out what their limits were. The best way to do that was to have as much contact as they’d allow.
If I could just sit down with Peter, I could fully explore his tolerance for human contact.
He squinted his green eyes at me as if he knew my plans.
“Hey, buddy,” I said softly, letting him smell my hand before scratching the underside of his chin. “Let’s go see what’s going on in the living room.”
His body tensed as I picked him up, and he let out a low growl. The vocal warning was actually a good sign. He wasn’t flying off without communicating that he was unhappy with the current situation, which showed a semblance of self-control.
The quiet grumbling became louder with every step I took, and the other cats started showing signs of distress. Throwing a quick glance behind my shoulder, I saw several of them pacing anxiously, as though they anticipated catastrophe.
I was almost to the couch when the gates of hell opened in the form of claws and teeth. Peter screeched while digging all four sets of his razor paws into my skin.
“Oh, shit,” I grunted as the ungodly sound reverberated throughout the apartment. “All right, all right. Message heard loud and clear, buddy.”
Wincing at the sharp claws still attached to my chest and stomach, I gently let Peter go, making sure he made it safely to the ground. At lightning speed, he scampered down the hallway out of sight.
“Well, it’s safe to say he means business,” I joked, noticing the concerned expressions around me.
Rhonda looked ticked, probably because I put myself in danger. Joel was franticly grappling with the camera, even though it was too late to catch the incident on film. And Estelle looked horrified, one hand covering her mouth and the other over her heart.
“Dammit, Emery. We were on a fucking break,” Steve whined. “You should have waited until the cameras were rolling.”
Shaking my head, I clucked my tongue. “Go easy on the swear words, Steve.”
CHAPTER 3
ESTELLE
Emery Matheson was actually in my home.
When my assistant at work said she’d submitted me for the show, I laughed. I didn’t think they’d pick me.
They fucking picked me.
Maybe that should’ve been a sign that my predicament was severely messed up.
October was the worst month for me to be taking a vacation, but I was pressed for time and I needed professional help.
I’d had to hire two extra employees to make up for my absence at the shop. Julia was just about the best assistant ever, but there was no way she could handle it on her own. Not this close to Halloween.
And it wasn’t that I was emotionally attached to my apartment—I could’ve found another place that would let me have more pets. But moving was such a pain in the ass. Plus, I was serious when I said the cats deserved a better living environment. One with a larger space and more attention to go around.
So far, it’d been a really weird day. With the cranky producer being a douche and my uncharacteristic jitters, I was thrown for a loop.
Stage fright was a completely foreign concept to me. I wasn’t shy or bashful, but I’d been having hot flashes all day.
And now, less than three hours into filming, Emery had been attacked by Peter.
I brought my hand up to my cheek. My face felt fire-engine hot. What the hell was wrong with me? I never blushed. I wasn’t easily embarrassed. And I was too young for menopause.
Maybe I was coming down with something. I touched the back of my hand to my forehead. Yeah, that had to be it. I was sick and feverish.
It was a bad time to be hit with a virus. Between busy season at the shop and being on the show, I didn’t have time for the sniffles.
I’d just take some medicine and push through. The show must go on, and all that jazz.
Red spots began soaking through Emery’s gray T-shirt.
“Oh my God. You’re bleeding.” I pointed at his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
He just laughed. “Occupational hazard. We have a medic on hand for that very reason. Besides, it’s not like you didn’t warn me.”
His words summoned a brunette carrying a first aid kit.
“You know the drill,” she said, grinning at him while she opened the case and started lining up her supplies on the kitchen table.
Emery grabbed the back of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head, being careful not to disrupt the wires from his mic.
Suddenly, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. The thin material had done little to hide the muscle definition underneath, but at least then I couldn’t see his smooth skin.
His nipples.
The ridges of his abs and that highly coveted V by his hips.
A thin smattering of hair covered his chest, traveling down the center of his abs and below his belly button. The light brown trail disappeared into the waist of his jeans.
I wanted to run my fingers over it. All of it. Even the parts I couldn’t see.
I was looking at the most magnificent torso ever—not just in real life—in the entire damn universe. He had movie stars and models beat. I remembered watching a video of Charlie Hunnam training for an upcoming role, and I’d been in awe of the amount of work it took to look that good.
Regular people didn’t just go walking around in that kind of shape. Apparently, Emery didn’t fall into the category of ‘regular people.’
And God bless him for it.
Feeling weak in the knees, I leaned my hip against the counter and wondered if I was the only one affected. Everyone else went about their tasks as usual. Well, everyone except for the medic.
After taking a seat, Emery said something to her about not using bandages this time, and her response was a nervous giggle. She quickly cleaned the area with disinfectant, then put cream over the scratches.
Red-faced, she slowly backed away as Emery slipped a new shirt on.
A different kind of heat flared through me, but this one was familiar and much more unpleasant than the virus I was fighting off.
Jealousy.
I was jealous that she got to touch him.
I made a face, because that was ridiculous. Emery was here to work, not get eye-fucked by the crazy cat lady.
The hot-and-bothered medic taped a sign to the wall by the door. In big letters, it said, ‘Do not leave door open. Mike will run.’ It made my sudden desire to claw her eyes out diminish.
She was just doing her job.
Psycho much, Estelle?
Opening my cabinet, I grabbed the bottle of Tylenol and choked down a couple pills along with my sweet tea.
I extended the medicine toward Emery. “Want some?”
“Nah,” he replied. “It doesn’t hurt that bad.”
“That happens a lot, doesn’t it?” I lightly accused.
“Getting mauled by cats?” He laughed. “More times than I can count.”
“No.” I tipped my head toward the flushed woman retreating from my apartment. “People losing their shit every time you take your shirt off.”
Glancing away, Emery blushed a little, surprising me by the shy response. I wasn’t trying to flatter him. I was just telling the truth.
Hmm. Maybe he was getting sick too.
Instead of answering me, he ran his hand through his hair again, causing some of the brown strands to stick up at odd angles, his look going from ‘animalisti
c appeal’ to ‘crazed maniac.’
I laughed.
“Oh, here. Let me…” Rising up on my tiptoes, I reached up to smooth it down. My fingers combed through the wild mass, sculpting it away from his forehead and off to the side.
He was so much taller than I thought he’d be. With my short height, I barely made it to his shoulder. I tipped my head all the way back to look up at him and had to stretch my arms to get to his hair.
Awareness hit me when I realized my body was pressed against his, my breasts grazing his abdomen with every rise and fall of my chest.
I froze.
Emery opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but no words came out.
And holy shit, he smelled good. Something woodsy and clean and gloriously masculine.
Faintly aware of the way my fingers were still buried in his hair, I stared at the perfect features on his face. His bottom lip had a slight indent in the middle, matching the cleft in his chin.
My eyes roamed his cheekbones, the five o’clock shadow on his jaw, and his straight nose until I landed back on his eyes.
Then there was eye contact. Earth-shattering eye contact. I had no idea how so much could pass between two people in just a few seconds, but my entire body came alive.
My nipples tightened, my hair stood on end, and it felt like my skin was tingling everywhere.
As I studied the blue flecks in his irises, he studied me back. He licked his lips.
And then the moment was broken.
“Hi.” A middle-aged woman with short red hair sidled up next to me and extended her hand. “I’m Janice.”
Untangling my fingers from Emery’s hair, I tried to hide how flustered I was as I accepted her handshake. “I’m Estelle.”
“I can’t tell you how great it is to be here on this project—”
Emery suddenly looked panicked as he shook his head and cut in with, “Thank you, Janice, but I don’t think we’ll be needing your services this time.”
Her eyebrows pinched together. “Are you sure? I don’t mind sitting down with Estelle for a chat—”
“No, I’m positive.”
“I cleared my schedule for this.”
Untamable Page 4
