Stolen by You (Fated To Love You)

“I’m sure anything you wear will be amazing.” I flush as soon as I blurt that out.

She flushes too, and I swear if the cats were in the room, they’d flush too. Or maybe shake a cat paw at me and threaten me as a feline gang group to leave their human mommy alone. Who knows, they might even take a vote, out-cat me, and unanimously determine that I’m a huge dork.

Fucklestinkerston, why didn’t I bring a tuna bribe again?

When Lindy disappears, I know she trusts me. She’s leaving me alone in her personal sanctum, unguarded and unseen. Although, she might have cameras set up in every room, and the master controls could be in the bathroom. Maybe that’s what she’s doing in there. It could be that this is a test. Or she’s really just doing her hair.

There’s a beat-up couch that seriously looks pretty comfortable, even if all the pleather stuff has peeled off of it. I sit down hard, and yup, it’s one of those couches that eats me up, sucking me under and devouring my tired ass. It’s an extremely comfortable couch. It’s all plush and soft, and it’s been a long week—a hard week. I’ve been busting my bottom end to get the new security system out. I’ve been in meetings with my marketing, development, and production teams, trying to get a game plan together on how we can give out free home security systems to those who truly need them. Even if it’s free for those people, there’s still a bunch of logistics to consider. Then there’s the regular marketing plan for the software. I still have to find some good hackers to test it. I’m hoping Lindy can recommend someone because, unlike Granny, I’m not good at just showing up on someone’s porch in the middle of the night. Anyway, yeah, I’d have to find them first.

I close my eyes for just a second. Just one second.

And the next thing I know, Lindy is standing in front of me, her coppery hair cascading over her shoulders in beachy waves. She went for the lightest touches of makeup, and she chose a sleek black dress that hugs her lithe body, outlines her curves, and falls to the knee. She’s wearing those black ankle boots she loves, but they’re no longer full of cake. I wonder if those are the ones that had the dead mouse in them and how long ago that might have been because I might have eaten the rest of the cake that the boot landed in—the clean parts, I mean—even though it’s one disgusting cake. I know I have a serious cake problem.

“Oh god.” I startle awake, and Lindy smiles at me.

“Don’t worry. The sand monster comes for everyone when they have a soft couch and a warm, living blanket made up of squishy, wonderful, snookum poopoo spoiled kitties all over them.”

My eyes fly down to my lap, and I find not one, not two, not three, but all four cats sprawled out across me. I crank my head off the back of the couch, and a jarring pain immediately shoots through my neck. Oh my sweet lord. I passed out here, and my head was tilted back. My mouth was probably flopped open, my lips were likely thrumming, and I think I could have been sawing logs in here. I swallow to test the theory. Yup, my throat feels dry, which means I was most definitely snoring.

I’m also most definitely covered in cats.

And cat hair.

Cat hair doesn’t go with an all-black attire, especially if the hairs are white. Yeah, probably the reason why witches only have black cats.

As the cats get up when I start to shift, one by one stretching, yawning, and shooting me pissed off looks, I realize I look like a living blanket long after the cats have left. How is it possible for four small creatures to shed so much hair? Oh my god, is that a nest in my lap?

“Don’t worry. It happens to me all the time. And I might have taken a little bit too long to get ready.” Lindy suddenly looks sheepish. “Okay, so we might have missed our reservation time. I’m so sorry. I knew I’d manage to mess this up. I was trying to get everything right, and—”

I hold out my hand, cutting her off. “Want to help me up?” It’s a trick question. I’m being tricky, but she doesn’t notice. She immediately extends a hand like I need to be pulled upright.

What was it that my family said about Lindy? That she’s perfect for me? Yeah, I’m starting to think so too. She’s a quarter of my size, yet she’s still willing to try to pull my cat-haired, drool-faced ass off this couch in a beautiful dress.

Drool-faced? I’m pretty sure that’s a thing. It’s where drool leaks out of someone’s mouth because it’s gaping open when they sleep, and it gets all over their face and dries in crusty white streaks all over the place. Very visibly. And yeah, even with that on my face, Lindy is still standing right there beside me.