Accidentally Amy(26)

She sighed, and the speaker phone sent her breath across the expanse of his kitchen. “Let’s not.”
“Iz, listen to me. I don’t want to get in your business, but my dad is a mechanic. I grew up around cars. There’s a good chance I can fix it.”
“Oh, my God, you have a dad? I assumed you were scientifically-engineered in a lab.”
“Cute.”
“Blake, I appreciate the offer – I really do – but I just can’t.”
“I thought of something you can do for me,” he said, grabbing a towel to wipe the outside of the Pyrex bowl. “If you need that to make it okay.”
She said, “I’m scared, but lay it on me.”
He put the cat food in the fridge, then took the bowl to the sink and started filling it with soapy water. “I have to go to Boston on Wednesday, and you could take care of my cats while I'm gone.”
She didn’t say anything, but he thought he heard her squeak.
He said, “Did you hear me?”
“Yes. Um.” She cleared her throat and said, “What exactly would that entail? Because pouring food into a bowl is not the equivalent of labor-intensive automobile repairs.”
“Oh, trust me.” He washed his hands, then turned off the water and let the bowl soak. “They’re very high maintenance.”
“Tell me everything,” she said, sounding interested, which made him smile.
He went into the living room, sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. Both of his cats were immediately on his lap; it was like they waited for him to sit. They liked to paw around to get comfortable, but he put his hands on their backs and helped them settle into a sit so they didn’t drive him crazy. “As you know, Goodyear is blind, so everything has to be routine or he just walks in circles, meowing, because he can’t figure out what’s going on.”
“That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said.
“When you walk in the door, you have to say his name a few times, so he knows you’re there. I usually pick him up and pet him when he finally appears, just to ensure he knows everything is okay.”
Izzy squeaked again, which for some bizarre reason, made him happy as he scratched Goodyear’s head and looked for something to watch.
“He likes his food - which I keep in the fridge - warmed up. He also needs his food and water to be in the exact same spot at all times, or again with the circles.”
“I’m so in love with your cat, Phillips, you don’t even know,” she said.
That made him grin, like a dipshit, all alone in his living room. “He has pills that I have to crush and put in applesauce, which he licks off of a plastic spoon.”
“While you hold the spoon?” she asked.
“Why do I feel like this is a cat-lady version of phone sex?”
She started laughing - hard - and she said, “Oh, it so is, Blake. Tell me what you’re wearing when you’re holding the spoon. Does he lick it fast or slow?”
She started cackling, and he couldn’t help but fall into laughter right along with her as he switched and gave Hole’s chin a scratch. “You little deviant, quit using my elderly cat’s needs to scratch your weirdo itch.”
“My apologies.” She cleared her throat and said, “Please continue.”
He flipped past Little House and wondered if she was watching. “My other cat, Hole, is diabetic, so he needs two injections a day.”
“I’m sorry, did you just say cat hole?” she said, still laughing a little.
“No,” he replied, then added, “Well, yes but no. My other cat is named hole.”
“This is very incredible,” she said, and he could hear the smile lingering in her voice. “Also please explain your cats’ names.”
Blake stopped on SportsCenter and said, “I found Goodyear under my tire in the parking garage, and I found Hole in a hole behind my parents’ house.”
“Your lack of naming convention inspiration is truly remarkable.”
“Thank you.”
“Not a compliment.”
“Sure, it was.”
“I am dying to see what your little guys look like,” she said, sounding excited. “Sign me up for the catsitting - I’m a thousand percent in.”
“Side note: I can barely move at the moment because they’re all over me.”
“What color are they? Are they fluffy?”
“You really are a cat lady, aren’t you?” He looked at the boys and said, “Want to flip to Facetime so you can see them?
Izzy
Yes.
No.
I don’t know!
Izzy was dying to see his cats, but could she just Facetime without preparation? She stalled with, “Can you do that, mid-call?”
“Sure,” he said. “You just hit the button.”
She did a quick self-appraisal - sloppy bun, glasses, YOUR MOM t-shirt. She was a mess, but since he’d admitted to feeling nothing for her except friendship and a random spark, what did it matter?
“Show me the cats, then,” she said, feeling nervous as she waited for the switch. FaceTime did its magic, and then--
Oh, dear God.
There was Blake, only he looked nothing like VP Blake. His dark hair was messy, like he’d changed shirts and hadn’t cared to fix his hair afterward. He was sitting on a beige couch, wearing a faded red KC t-shirt that said 0:13 in yellow letters. The cotton tee looked soft and worn, and it showcased that beautiful pec-cleavage-ridge thing that put the Chest in his Mister.
But worse than all of that gorgeousness? There were two cats curled up against his abs, one gray and one black, and his big hand was wrapped underneath them, holding them in place.