Need You for Keeps (Heroes of St. Helena, #1)(42)

Too bad his bed was currently occupied by a two-pound fleabag and every pair of dirty socks he owned. The socks were now snagged and punctured like dead carcasses, and the cat, he was on Jonah’s favorite pillow, faking sleep.

“We talked about this yesterday, the bed is off-limits.” They’d talked about it again last night when he’d swung by to give the shit his meds and found him burrowed at the bottom of the bed, Jonah’s sheets a tangled, lumpy mess.

Jonah had called Shay. She’d sent him to voice mail. So he’d made it more than clear that he needed to know when she was going to pick up her cat. She’d texted back, “Soon.” That was two days ago.

Obviously no one took him seriously.

Jonah grabbed the squirt bottle and aimed. “I mean it. I used to be SWAT. Still hold a few records for accuracy and distance.” Kitty Fantastic opened one eye, then closed it. “Fair enough. One. Two.” Squirt. “Fuck!”

Even though Jonah was rated out to a thousand yards, the cat outmaneuvered him, moving at the last second to God knew where. All Jonah had accomplished was getting his pillow soaked. But at least the cat was off his bed.

So spent that standing was too much, he hung his utility belt on the hook by his nightstand, his uniform went on the floor, and he fell into bed. He didn’t bother to pull the sheets back or remove the forest of mangled socks. He just flipped his pillow over to the dry side and closed his eyes, groaning at the sensation of not being in motion.

The next time he opened his eyes, his room was light, his body felt like he’d been hit by a semi, and something was sticking him in the leg. Sitting up, he found a shredded frond from his potted palm resting against his thigh, little soil paw prints marking the entire perimeter of his comforter—and pillow—and Kitty Fantastic curled up asleep in his gun holster.

How he’d managed to get up the utility belt and wedge himself in there was beyond Jonah, but he was pretty sure the little f*cker had used his claws—with glee.

Knowing it was still early, but not caring, Jonah threw on jeans and a T-shirt and marched across the street. He rapped on Shay’s door, surprised when she answered so quickly.

She wasn’t in her pajamas, looking like he’d just awoken her from the best sleep of her life. Nope, Dr. Dolittle was in another one of those skirts she was so fond of, this one white with a little drawstring, and a bright yellow top that tied behind her neck and did incredible things to her cleavage. Hair pulled up into a ponytail, lips glossy, no shoes.

“I got it,” she said, bouncing on her toes and twirling in place. Her skirt didn’t have enough give to fly up, but it caught enough wind to make him forget why he was angry. “Mr. Russell sent over the lease and keys last night. Keys,” she said, her face lighting up, “for my own place.”

She closed her eyes and paused as if letting that statement settle, and he felt something else entirely settle in his chest. Something warm and heavy that scared the shit out of him.

“I am meeting with the contractor in thirty minutes to see what needs to be done.”

“That’s great. Congratulations.” Jonah didn’t know what shocked him more, that Mr. Russell had agreed to finally lease out his shop or that Shay was taking a bold step that would keep her here, in St. Helena. He wasn’t sure how long she’d stick, or how he felt about that.

Her smile faded. “Wow, you look awful. Like you should go back to bed.”

“That’s why I’m here. I seem to have a bit of a problem in the bedroom.”

Shay choked back a laugh and it came out sounding like a snort.

“Jesus.” He ran a hand down his face. “I meant that Kitty Fantastic isn’t so fantastic. In fact, I haven’t slept in three days.” Okay, part of that was the job and part of it was thinking about Shay, but the cat wasn’t helping matters. “I woke up to half of my palm tree in my bed.”

The other half he’d spotted on his recliner.

“That is so sweet,” she cooed, her hand on her heart.

“Sweet? The damn thing tracked soil all over my bed.”

“It was a gift, his way of saying he accepts you as part of his family.”

Jonah had enough family, and spent a good deal of his time avoiding them. He didn’t need to add one more to the mix. “I need to sleep, Shay.”

“Of course you do.” With a serene smile, she clasped her hands in front of her and pitched her voice as though talking to a six-year-old. “But keep in mind, palm tree branches are like a toy to your cat.”

“You mean your cat.”

There went that smile again. “I can’t have any more cats, remember, Sheriff? At least not until I get St. Paws opened.”

“It’s not Sheriff or Detective, it’s Deputy. And how long will that be?” She opened her mouth to respond and he added, “And don’t say soon.”

She closed it.

“I need a time frame, Shay.”

She considered him and the situation for a moment. “Well, I need a full month to get the shop up and running, but unfortunately I only have twenty-three days left to find homes for my current fosters. That’s the downside of being a repeat offender over the legal limit.” She looked him in the eye and he felt the warm morning air press in around him. “So my final answer is twenty-three days.”