Need You for Keeps (Heroes of St. Helena, #1)(38)

As far as he was concerned it better have something to do with a speeding meteor or zombie invasion, because there was nothing that needed more immediate attention than what was going on between them—and in his pants.

“I am supposed to meet Mr. Russell at his store in . . .” She looked at her watch. “Shit. Four minutes ago. You distracted me.”

She sounded pissy, but if anything it made him flex his chest a little. He liked being her distraction, liked that he was good at it. He wanted to prove he could be even better if she stayed. So he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her against him so she could see what kind of distractions he had to offer. “Call him and reschedule.”

“I wish I could.” This time her hands came between them, but they landed on his chest, which proved difficult for her, so she crossed them in front of her, creating a wall. “He’s willing to cut me a deal on renting his store. A store, Jonah, where I can bring all my animals.”

“That’s great.” He wanted her to get a store. He really did, but he also wanted her naked and moaning beneath him. But she was already in rescue mode, and she wasn’t out to rescue him anymore.

“I need a favor.” She looked at the carrier and Jonah had a sinking feeling that he was about to get screwed—and not in the way he’d been hoping. “Kitty Fantastic needs his meds and to eat dinner and I can’t get him out of his cage. And I can’t bring him with me.”

“Oh no,” he said, backing up, because from the growling emanating from the cage, Kitty Fantastic needed a complete attitude adjustment. And Jonah wasn’t the guy to do it. “I don’t have it in me to take care of a cat tonight.”

“You just need to give him his meds.” She picked up the carrier and handed it to him. He noted that it had a little squirt bottle hanging off the side. “Plus, he’s here to take care of you. Thanks, Jonah,” she said, making her way down his front steps, leaving him no way out. “See you later.”

A paw came through the cage, claws out looking for blood, and swatted at his leg. Jonah walked farther onto the porch, nearly tripping over a dozen cans of food, a litter box, and a twenty-pound bag of litter. “When is later?”

Shay turned around to face him but didn’t stop walking. “I think it’s right after ‘anytime.’”





Carrier in hand, Jonah shut the door behind him, the low hiss the only warning before five razor-sharp needles tore into his hand.

“Not cool.” He lifted the cage and looked the cat in the eye, letting him know just who was in charge. “You have nails, but I have a squirt bottle.” He held it up to show him just how serious he was. The cat yawned. “If that doesn’t work, I’ll pull out the hose. Got it?”

A little uncertain, the cat sat down in his cage but didn’t sheath his claws. “Now, for the house rules. No scratching me or my stuff, no peeing anywhere except the box I will put out for you, and no shedding. On anything. Understand?”

“Make sure you tell him about your coaster rule. The one you get all menstrual about.”

Jonah looked up to find another stray in his house and swore. Adam must have come in the back door—never a good sign—because he was sitting on Jonah’s couch watching ESPN. His feet on the coffee table, making himself right at home, and drinking Jonah’s beer—the one Shay gave him. No coaster in sight.

He set the carrier on the table, gave the cat one last hard I mean business look, and opened the cage door. The cat licked his paw as though not intimidated in the slightest.

Satisfied that he’d set the boundaries, Jonah snagged Adam’s beer and sat in his recliner.

“I was drinking that,” Adam said, sounding put out.

“Funny since it was in my fridge.” He took the remote and flicked it from baseball to soccer.

“I brought a six-pack. It’s in the fridge,” Adam defended, grabbing for the remote. Jonah held it out of reach.

“Good. Then go grab it and take it home.”

“You’re in a mood.” Adam stood, making one last play for the remote. Jonah stopped him with a single glare and he gave up and walked into the kitchen.

“See that,” he said to the cat. “He’s twice your size and knows not to screw with me.”

When he looked back up, Adam was standing there smirking at him for talking to the damn cage. Jonah shot him the finger, and Adam sat down with enough chips, salsa, and beer nuts for ten. The beer, though, was one bottle—not the six-pack.

Adam set the spread on the table, then his feet, then the beer—no coaster. Jonah picked up the water bottle off the side of the carrier, aimed, and fired. “Off.”

Adam sprang up. “What the hell?” He wiped his arm over his face, pouting the whole time. “What did I tell you?” Adam said to the cage. “Menstrual.”

“I thought you were going home,” Jonah said.

“Can’t.” He pulled a coaster out from under the coffee table and obediently set his beer on top. “Frankie’s camped out on my porch, waiting to chew my ass out for missing Blanket’s first birthday last night.”

“That was last night?” Jonah sat up to look out the window, checking for his sister’s car.

“Yup.” Adam leaned back, this time sprawling his long body across the entire couch.