Lissa- Sugar and Spice (The Wilde Sisters 3)

“It must be freezing, Nick. And terrified.”

“Well, I don’t know what we’re supposed to do for it. I know dogs, not cats, especially not kittens.”

“It’s probably hungry, too.”

Lissa opened the cardigan she was wearing over her T-shirt and cradled the kitten to her breasts. Nick felt a quick rush of envy, and wasn’t that pathetic? They had what was probably a dying kitten to deal with, and he was envying it for being held against Lissa’s silky, warm, sweetly-scented flesh.

Wonderful. A cripple, a drunk, and a pervert. Nick Gentry, Hollywood Hero.

“Nick? We need some soft towels. A shallow box.”

“Duchess, listen, I don’t know the first thing about kittens.”

“I do. We had barn cats back home.”

Home. Barns. Right. She’d said she’d grown up in Texas.

“I hope this little guy is old enough for real food. There’s no way for me to improvise kitten formula with what we bought today.”

“Kitten formula?” Nick said blankly.

“They can’t tolerate cow’s milk, but if this baby is old enough, a soft-boiled egg yolk mixed with warm oatmeal… That’ll do, to start. An eyedropper will help, just in case. And we need the towels and the box.”

He nodded. “I’ll get the towels. And there’s sure to be an eyedropper somewhere in one of the bathroom medicine cabinets.”

“Fine. I have all this morning’s cartons in the kitchen. I’ll get one and I’ll make an egg and some oatmeal and—” Her eyes widened. “Oh Lord!”

“What?”

“There’s sure to be other kittens. I mean, wherever Brutus found this one…”

“Let me get the stuff you need. Then I’ll see if he’ll lead me to the place where he found this guy. It has to be somewhere in the house—he hasn’t been outside since we got back from town.”

“I hope you find them in time,” Lissa said. “Otherwise, they’re not going to make it.”

* * *

He did find them in time, only it wasn’t them, it was just one other kitten, pale gold with deeper peach highlights on its tiny ears.

“In the attic, of all places,” Lissa said softly as she and Nick sat in the warm kitchen, each holding a sleepy, full-bellied kitten.

“The mother must have climbed up that big oak behind the house and across the roof,” Nick said. “I found a hole up there. That’s how she got in.” The kitten lying in his big hand yawned and stretched. Nick smiled and stroked it with one finger. “I’ll go up there later and fix it.”

“The hole? No. Don’t do that. The mom might come back.”

Nick shook his head. “She won’t.”

“But you don’t know that.”

“Yeah,” he said gruffly, “I do.”

Lissa looked at him. “How—”

He shook his head again. He’d found blood, fur, and a couple of owl pellets. How the kittens had avoided detection was beyond him, but he didn’t see any reason for going into the details.

“She’s not coming back, Duchess.” His voice was soft. “What matters is that these guys got lucky.”

He watched Lissa process his words. She swallowed hard. Then she smiled at the bit of fluff in her hand.