Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

" S hake the food," Corey ordered.

"I don't know why you can't shake the food," Josie mumbled, mostly under her breath.

Apparently she hadn't complained softly enough, judging by Corey's raised-brow as he glanced over his shoulder.

"Because I'm holding the flashlight so they can find their way. Besides the fact you're holding the box of cat food."

"Fine." She scowled and began shaking the food, hard. Like it was a maraca she was angry at.

"Hey, little one." The sound of Corey's voice, soft and cajoling, stopped Josie's maniacal shaking.

"You can see them?" she asked, taking a quick step forward.

"Yes. But let's not make any sudden movements or speak too loudly so we don't scare them, okay?" he told her in the same soft, even, almost musical tone.

She'd never imagined this kind of conversation happening between this big brute of an emotionless, hard-shelled man and two tiny kittens.

Her scowl deepened at being reprimanded by Corey, the kitten whisperer, for moving too fast and talking too loudly. As if she didn't know how to not scare them.

She was a good five feet away from him. And besides, they were her kittens. Or at least they had been since she'd arrived home a few days ago.

There weren't any cats in his house, so what made him such an expert?

"Come on out. Don't be afraid," he continued in that same inhuman, Disney-fide tone of voice.

But damned if it didn't work. She saw first a tiny white and orange paw and then a little pink nose appear between the wooden beams.

Corey was tall enough he easily reached up and grabbed the little villain with one big hand, plucking it out from where the ceiling met the wall.

"Here," he said, thrusting the squirming lump of fur at her.

Taken by surprise, she had to juggle the box of food from her hand to under her arm to be able to grab hold of the kitten.

Meanwhile, Corey had reached up and was gently trying to extricate Peanut Butter's partner in crime, Jelly, from the wall.

The kitten had other ideas and held on to the wood with its tiny needle-like claws.

Corey, admittedly more patient than she would have been, took the time to lift each little claw out of the wood, freeing its hold all while lecturing the kitten gently about the dangers of roaming in the walls. As if the animal would actually understand.

Cuddling the little marmalade cat, Corey walked toward her, frowning. "You don't hold a kitten like that."

"Like what?" she protested as he reached out and plucked the kitten she had clamped between her two hands and held as far away from her body as she could get it without dropping the food clutched beneath her arm.

"Like it's a dirty diaper or a venomous snake or something." His voice remained soft even as he scolded her, most likely in deference to the two kittens he now had cradled against his chest.

She couldn't take her eyes off the sight before her. The unlikely threesome had her complete attention.

Both little demons, usually balls of energy in constant motion, had nestled in against the hard planes of his pectorals and fallen asleep. Or were close to sleep as they purred loudly enough for her to hear while squeezing their eyes tightly shut.

She was still staring at the phenomenon—a Kitten-mas miracle—when he asked, "Where's their bed?"

The question brought her gaze back to Corey's face. "I don't think they have their own bed. They're just fosters. We're not keeping them." Under what she deemed a judgmental stare from Corey, she rushed to add, "They've been sleeping on my parents' bed during the day and with me at night."

"They'd probably like something smaller. Have you got a cardboard box laying around we could put a towel inside? Or we could even drape something over an end table?—"

"Like a blanket fort?" She snorted. "For the cats?"

"Yes, for the cats. They might like someplace to sleep that felt protected. Hidden. They like tiny spaces. Obviously. They crawled through a hole and into the wall under the sink," he mansplained.

"Yeah, I know. I was there." She knew very well what had happened.

Smart ass.

Who was this man in front of her? Because he certainly wasn't the same one who'd gotten suspended from the ice hockey team for two games for giving a player on the opposite team a concussion with his bare fists.

What had happened to the guy who'd worn the black leather jacket and a deadly glare all through high school? Who could walk straight down the center of a crowded hallway between classes and part the sea of students like he was Moses.

He'd gone away, joined the Navy and come back a softy who cuddled kittens and built blanket forts.

And even though the demon kittens had been the bane of her existence since her arrival, she couldn't deny how seeing him first save their lives, then cuddle them, caused a suspiciously squishy feeling in her chest.

"I've got a box," she said on a huff and spun toward the stairs.

Since she had missed recycling day, something else her parents would have judged her for, they happened to have a few boxes lying around.

She'd make the kittens a damn bed. Why not? She needed the distraction. She didn't like this new nice guy version of Corey. It was jarring. Confusing. Maybe even a little bit tempting.

Tempting was the last thing she needed him to be.

She'd had a crush all through school on the bad ass version of him. The tough guy. A villain who was as scary as he was sexy.

The guy who'd shocked the hell out of her that one summer when he'd gone from mostly ignoring her their entire lives to showing an interest that led to?—

She pushed aside the memory of what it had led to.

But he wasn't that guy anymore?—

Nope. She wasn't going to go there. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

One broken heart in a lifetime was enough for her. And there was no doubt in her mind, kitten cuddling aside, Corey was still and always would be to his core a heart breaker. The love 'em and leave 'em kind.

Storming to the pantry where the boxes were stacked in hopes she'd remember to drag them to the curb next week, she concentrated on this kitten bed-slash-fort she was supposed to construct.

"Can you keep them contained while I do something to block that hole under the sink so this doesn't happen again?" he asked.

Great. Now he was going to be here even longer playing handyman and fixing the hole. Not that she wanted to do it herself or even knew how.

Fine. She'd let him fix it. Then, she supposed, she'd have to swallow her pride and thank him for all he'd done tonight. Ugh .

"Yes," she spat out. "Their litter box and food dish are in the bathroom. I'll lock them in there." Suspecting Corey the cat cuddler might not like that idea, she added, "with their new box bed."

He nodded, seemingly satisfied.

Great. At least Corey was happy. But her? It would take more than a cat rescue and some wall repair to make her forget why she hated Corey Jacobs.