Egotistical Puckboy (Puckboys 1)

If it wasn’t obvious before, it’s crystal clear now. I am not a morning person.

Mornings should be illegal. Unless I’m climbing into bed instead of out of it.

I throw on the nearest pair of jeans I find crumpled on the floor and pull a B’s shirt out of my closet.

Anton couldn’t pick a shelter close by, could he? Nope. I have to schlep all the way out to Gloucester. I bet he did that on purpose.

I grab coffee on the way but am ready for another one when I pull into the parking lot. Hell, I’m ready for a vat of it. Or an IV drip. Caffeine, get in my veins.

Anton stands by the door, arms folded, scowl on his beautiful face. No, not beautiful. Damn it. “You’re late.”

“You’re an asshole,” I bite back.

“Original.” He opens the door.

“I’m not caffeinated enough for originality.”

“Let’s get to work. We need all the cages clean before people turn up to look at adoption.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure we can find someone who’d want to take you home. Maybe. Actually, no, it’s a tall order.”

He lowers his voice, letting out a sexy but teasing rasp. “That’s not what you said a few months ago.”

“I’m a temporary stop. I’m no one’s forever home.”

Anton’s dark brows furrow at me, but it’s the truth. I’m not the settling down type. I have nothing against the sanctity of marriage or monogamy—maybe one day the urge to settle will pull me down the aisle—but I can’t see it happening. The idea of long-term makes me itchy. I’ve never had that need to claim someone as the person who belongs to me.

I’m not convinced the need exists. It certainly didn’t for my parents.

We get to a set of doors, and Anton grabs a pair of rain boots and shoves them into my hands. “Put these on.”

“Why couldn’t we have turned up when the cameras and people were here so it looks like we did it?” I grumble as I switch out my shoes.

“That’s probably the most Ezra-like thing I’ve ever heard you say.” He pushes cleaning supplies at me next.

“Hey, I’m not against charity, but the schedule is so grueling during the season, I want to take advantage of every chance I get to sleep in.”

“Of course you do.”

We enter the cat area, which is a depressing room if I ever saw one.

All the cats are in individual cages, not like others I’ve seen where they’re housed in a big area together outside with play equipment. There’s one climbing tree in the corner, and I can’t help getting a prison vibe from it all. Each of them gets one hour of rec time outside their cell.

I would feel sorry for them, but cats are evil bastards. Who knows? Maybe they’re all doing time for murder and eating their owners’ faces.

“You can put the supplies down here.” He points to a table.

“Yes, sir,” I mutter.

“You really are cranky in the mornings. I was warned about that by a few of your teammates. Apparently, you go through roommates on the road faster than you do hookups. Now that’s impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“Not a compliment.” He heads for the corner of the room, and I follow him.

I want to point out my teammates are now his teammates too, but I don’t. “Maybe I wouldn’t be complaining so much if you’d volunteered for me to visit an old people’s home or a cancer ward. I can cheer up a whole room by walking into it. But animals?” Just as I say this, we walk past a cage, and a cat hisses at me. “Cats don’t like me. Where are the dogs?”

Anton opens one of the cages and picks up a black kitten. He lifts it in front of his face and does a ridiculous voice. “Pwease, Ezwa. Loooove me! I’m a cute innocent kitten, but everyone hates me because of stupid superstition that black cats are bad wuck.”

“Black cats are bad luck.”

“Hooold me.” Without missing a beat, he practically shoves the poor thing in my arms.

It scrambles to get away, and I almost drop it, but then I hold it close to me, and—

“Ouch. It bit me.”

“Maybe if you weren’t trying to smother it, it would play nice. You know, they say animals have a great sense of reading people. They know when they meet a shitty person and show it.”

“I think that’s dogs. Cats hate everyone.”

Anton grunts. “Fine, I’ll hold the cat. You do the cleaning.” He takes the evil thing back, and the tiny fluff ball immediately settles in his big arms and starts purring.

“Maybe dogs can sense good humans and cats can sense people who are dead inside. Just like them.”

“Hurry up and get to work.”

I sigh and start the job of emptying out the cage, which is already sparse apart from one toy, one blanket, and the litter tray.