Hosed (Happy Cat #1)(71)

My phone’s not where it belongs. It’s not by my bed. It’s not on my dresser. It’s not in the bathroom.

My pants.

Maybe it’s still in my pants.

Where are my—fuck.

My pants are under the cow.

It moos at me again. I fist my hair and stare at it. “Get up,” I tell it.

It stares back.

It also doesn’t move.

Or moooooooove, I can hear my teammates saying.

I grab one pant leg and pull. The cow sniffs at my dangling dick. I move out of the way, because I’m not into getting my family jewels licked by a freaking baby farm animal, even if said baby farm animal weighs three hundred pounds.

I’d wonder where the fuck Ares found a baby cow, except I, too, know a thing or two about delivering unexpected livestock to apartment buildings.

And the fucker just one-upped me.

For a quiet dude, he’s fucking evil. He better never put a baby cow in Felicity’s bed or he’ll wake up strapped to the underside of an elephant halfway around the world.

I tug and pull on my pants, the cow gives an indignant baby moo, and finally, my jeans come free.

Without the phone in the pocket.

I press my palms into my eye sockets and think.

There was the game.

Vegas scored on me twice. We still won, because Ares and Frey and Lavoie were on fire, but I shouldn’t have let Vegas score. Could’ve blocked both shots.

Skipping Chester Green’s with the team afterwards. Opening a bottle of Jack at home. Texting Kami because I knew I shouldn’t drink alone.

She showed up with that wide, borderline innocent smile. I was buzzed. She teased me about it. Said she wasn’t going to take advantage of me.

Turned on The Mighty Ducks.

I fucking love that movie.

I talked her out of her pants before the Ducks won their first game, and—and that’s where my phone is.

Next to the bottle of Jack I finished in the living room after Kami left.

The baby cow stares at me, those eyes bright and friendly and asking for love.

I trip into my jeans and head for the living room. The sun’s telling me I need to get my ass in gear and over to the rink for morning skate before long. I snag my phone off the end table by my leather sofa, and I don’t think twice as I dial a video call.

Kami’s soft brown eyes come into focus, along with that wide smile. “Morning, sunshine. You feeling okay today?”

“How do I get a cow out of my bed?”

She wrinkles her brows at me. She’s walking somewhere—the buildings behind her make me think she’s heading to her office—and her brown hair’s tied back in a ponytail that’s whipping in the wind. “A cow out of your bed?” she repeats.

I flip the camera on my phone and march into my bedroom, watching the screen while I center my bed and the cow for her. “Yeah. A fucking baby cow in my fucking bed.”

She nods thoughtfully. “Huh. That does appear to be a calf. Happy birthday to you too.”

“It’s not my fucking birthday. It’s a fucking prank. Can you take care of it?”

Her expression goes still. “Can I…what?”

“Get it out of my condo. It’s an animal. You’re an animal doctor.”

Silence.

Even her expression is silent, which is odd, because Kami’s expressions are always big and loud and…and expressive and shit. Not because she’s loud. She just likes things.

Like an optimist.

Yeah.

She’s cheery. She makes loud, happy faces.

Fuck, I need to quit drinking.

“I said, happy birthday to you too,” she says.

I squint at the phone. Since when does Kami talk in code? In the six months we’ve been banging behind my sister’s back, the only code we’ve ever used is I’m calling it an early night. “Look, I know you probably think I deserve this after the donkey thing, but I have to get to morning skate, and we’re flying out to Colorado after the game tonight, and I don’t want to come home to a dead baby cow. I’ll pay whatever it takes. But it—”

“Fine. Whatever. I’ll take care of it.”

I freeze.

I know that tone.

That’s pissed off woman tone. And yeah, it’s probably rude of me to call Kami first thing in the morning like this, but we’re friends. I’d help her get a cow out of her place if I had time, but during the season, it’s hockey first. Always.

“Thanks, Kami. I owe you—”

“Nothing, Nick. You owe me nothing. In fact, you can consider this a goodbye present. Because this little arrangement we have? It’s over. I’m done.”

She disconnects, and I’m left staring at my official team photo on the background of my phone.

I don’t know what just happened, but I have a feeling it’s worse than waking up with a baby cow.