The Bluff (Graham Brothers, #2)(103)

Val groans. “Can you go see who it is? And tell them to go away?”

“Gladly.”

Only, when I walk out of the side door, I’m shocked senseless. Because standing there in all his gorgeous grumpiness is James. The sight of him after a week is enough to make my breath catch, but then I see why Amber and Beast have gone so wild, and I’m not sure I believe what I’m seeing.

The Orange Cyclops, as we call him, my one-eyed white whale of feral cats, stands in the driveway, hissing at the dogs. That part is unusual enough. But the leash and collar he’s wearing, complete with a tiny bow tie? THAT has my jaw dropping.

“Go on, Amber,” James says to the dogs. “Scram, Beast. Get!”

After fending off a last swipe from the cat, the two dogs run for the house and settle on the porch. James hasn’t noticed me, and so I continue to watch him. Because what in the ever-loving WORLD is going on?

“All right, OC. Are you ready for this?”

James is talking … to a cat. The cat. While holding its leash in his hand. OC, as I guess he’s being called now, looks up at James with his one eye, then gives his front paw a good licking.

“Sure. No problem,” James says drily. “I’ll wait. Not like I’m in a hurry to tell the woman I love I love her or anything.”

I bite my lip to hold back a gasp. James just used the L-word! About me!

… TO A CAT!

The Orange Cyclops sees me first, his one eye zeroing in on me before his entire body tenses. Oh, he definitely hasn’t forgotten me, and I’m not sure that’s a good thing. His attention draws James’s gaze, and now I’m engaged in a five-eyed stare-off with a man and a cat.

I finally break the silent whatever kind of moment we’re having. “I have so many questions.”

James, using the Ultimate James Graham Starter Pack, does not answer. He grunts.

“Not starting in order of importance, but what kind of voodoo magic did you work on the Orange Cyclops?”

“I call him OC now.”

James glances down at the cat, and I swear, there’s the tiniest hint of pride in his expression. Like James is suddenly this proud cat dad. I wouldn’t have EVER predicted this, but I am here for it.

Looking back my way, James gives me the smallest smile—one I feel all the way down to my toes. I lean on the garage wall for support, needing something to ground me. Otherwise, I’m liable to skip the talk we need to have in favor of the kissing part I hope will be coming right after.

“It took some doing, and some help from Big Mo. I didn’t come out unscathed.” He tilts his head, and I can see a healing scratch along his cheek.

“Bad kitty,” I say, but my tone sounds a lot more like praise.

James’s lips twitch. “I took him to the vet to get him, uh, fixed. But Doc Maddie said he already had been. I guess this guy was less feral and more … abandoned. She got him all cleaned up and up to date on his shots.”

“Did she also get him the bow tie and leash?”

At my question, James tilts his head as though issuing a challenge. “He likes it.”

Shockingly, the orange cat does seem to like it. Or, at least, not mind it. “Me too. But I didn’t think you were a cat person.”

“I did it for you, Winnie. It felt like something I needed to do to show you—” He stops himself here, and I can see the thoughts whirring in his head. “How much did you overhear when you were eavesdropping?”

I love that he sounds irritated. I know he’s here to apologize, but James wouldn’t be James without this bit of rough edge to him. I happen to love that edge. Even if I’m more than ready for the apology he promised was coming days ago.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping. I came out because the dogs were barking. Then I heard you talking to the cat.”

His frown deepens. Is it weird I find him hotter frowning than smiling? Are frown fetishes a thing? If not, I’ll gladly be the start of this trend.

“You weren’t supposed to hear it like that.”

“Like that as in, you telling a cat you love me?”

Groaning, James tilts his head back to face the sky. “I’ve ruined this,” he mutters, almost under his breath. Then he takes a breath and meets my gaze. “I'm going to leave. Then I’ll come back. You’ll pretend I was never here, and I’ll do this right.”

Of their own volition, my hands go to my hips. “Don’t you dare get in that truck, James Graham! You’re going to stand there and apologize, maybe grovel a little. Or a lot. The level of grovel is up to you. Then you’ll tell me, not the cat, you love me. Do you understand me?”

“So bossy,” James says, not sounding like he minds a bit. “And what are you going to do?”

“I'm going to stand here, pretend like I’m still mad, and like I wouldn’t have forgiven you five days ago.”

He shakes his head, fighting back a small smile. “It was the chocolate chip muffins, wasn’t it?”

“They were excellent muffins. But I think I liked the book better. It showed you paid attention. And I found some pages with turned down corners—which, I’ll have you know, is a capital punishment—but it made me think you actually read the book.”

That, or he got it at a thrift store or drove to Austin for one of the used bookstores. But the copy he gave me is in great shape, and it’s a new release, which is hard to find used. I’m hoping my guess is correct.