Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 192810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 964(@200wpm)___ 771(@250wpm)___ 643(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 192810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 964(@200wpm)___ 771(@250wpm)___ 643(@300wpm)
This dress, in the colors of a peach, from fresh to ripe, was displayed with the intricate, creamy-peach gossamer bow that had been tied around the actress’s neck pinned above it, and the blushing-peach satin and grosgrain tri-cornered cap with its bruised-peach feather situated in the frame at the top.
Mr. Truelock called it a work of art, and I tended to agree. I was super proud of it.
But it wasn’t a sculpture by LeMond or a watercolor by Arrivi.
“Considering the content of our repast, shall we adjourn to the couch?” Prince Aleksei suggested.
Fabulous.
I wore no cosmetics, my hair was in a ponytail, my outfit was on the lower scale of cute (until you saw the back, which he had not) and I was being a bad hostess.
Well, at least he didn’t seem put off by my eclectic space.
“Of course,” I replied, swinging an arm toward the couch in a belated invitation.
He moved that way and sat, saying, “I didn’t know your preference, so I called the club and requested the manager ask the bartender who served you. He said you ordered a pink fizz. So I deduced you enjoyed sweet and tart, and brought you a grape sparkle.”
Grape sparkle sodas were my favorite.
And the effort he put behind that wasn’t cute, it was just sweet.
But…wait.
“You went yourself to Captain Jacques’s?” I asked.
“I hovered through their flyby,” he murmured, pulling one of the beverages out and setting it on the table in front of the empty side of the couch, all while I tried to wrap my mind around the idea of Prince Aleksei piloting his craft through a fast-food flyby.
He then started to unearth the food.
So, of course, Comet joined him.
And by joining him, I meant that Comet hefted his great cat weight up, perched all four paws on the prince’s thigh and aimed his meddlesome, sunken nose toward the food.
“Who’s this creature?” the prince asked, his attention on Comet, as it would of course be. When Comet didn’t want to be ignored, he wasn’t.
I headed toward the couch, offering, “You can push him off. He won’t like it. But he’ll eventually get over it.”
He turned to me. “That’s not an answer to my question.”
Well then.
I sat and shared, “He’s Comet. And no, as you can tell, I do not starve him, no matter what he says. And he’s not allowed treats, or Dr. T will yell at us again during his annual. He’s had his morning kibble. Later, he’ll laze on his back while Nova and Jupiter play with the kitty-light drone, instead of joining in and getting his doctor-mandated exercise. As such, I fear I’ll go into the annals of Bad Cat Moms when he gets arthritis at age four.”
I was sitting as far from him as I could get, but I was close enough to see clearly as the prince wrapped his long fingers around the back of Comet’s neck, and I noted through the thick, creamy fur, his thumb stroking.
Watching this, I got a melty feeling in two places. One, around the left side of my chest. The other, parts south.
Comet looked from the bag of food to the prince and stated, “Meow.”
“That’s not what your mother says,” Prince Aleksei replied.
Terrific.
He spoke Comet.
“Meow!” Comet dissented.
“I would give you fried chicken formed in logs. But it isn’t my choice. You need to talk to your mother.”
Totally spoke Comet.
Comet’s baby-blue eyes glared at him, then he moved them to me.
Prince Aleksei curved his hand under Comet’s belly, lifted him and gently dropped him to his golden paws on the floor.
Comet tipped his grouchy face toward the prince and griped, “Meow!”
“Sorry, buddy,” the prince mumbled.
Okay.
Um.
Who was this guy?
Comet decided to circle the prince’s ankles in a last-ditch attempt at changing his mind while Nova decided to say hi, jumping into the space between us and peering up at him with her trusting round blue eyes and adorable scrunchy face.
“Hello there,” Prince Aleksei greeted her.
It took her a second, but she was female, so that wasn’t a very long second before she placed one paw on his thigh as her invitation to show some love.
He accepted and stroked her spine while he asked, “How many of these do you have?”
“Three, but don’t worry. Jupiter is timid. He barely comes out even for me.”
The sky of his eyes came to mine, and I felt a lazy lurch in my chest.
Oh my. Was my phantom beast back?
“Do you intend to get number four?” he inquired.
“I’d absolutely get another kitty.” Or two. “But I worry Comet would eat them.”
A deep, velvety chuckle rolled from his chest, and no, the phantom wasn’t back. Because that lurched in my belly (okay, no, not there…full disclosure: it throbbed in regions south).
He stopped stroking Nova (who didn’t mind, she never did, but then again, she was a cat and could curl into a ball and lick her paw at his hip, which was what she decided to do next). The food was exhumed, one blue-and-yellow-striped parcel for me, the other he set aside before upending the bag and a variety of sauces rained on the table.