Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
“This is …” May looks around, her eyes wide.
The cat walks around in a circle farther down the hall.
“Yes, ‘too much’ is an understatement, Princess Mousey.” She turns to look at me, her cheeks going that delectable pink again before she turns her gaze to the carpeted floor by her feet. “It’s … it’s not a scam,” she says quietly.
“I believe you.” I take a chance and lightly press my index finger beneath her chin, tilting her face up until I see her beautiful eyes. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”
She blinks, her lips parting slightly as her gaze darts to my mouth.
I’m suddenly very aware that we’re in a secluded hallway, just the two of us.
A sharp sting at my kneecap reminds me that we are not, in fact, alone. Mousey finishes her claw-filled stretch against my leg and trots away again, her tail twitching.
“She’s an impatient princess,” May says apologetically and steps back. “We’d better follow her.”
I don’t know why I can’t keep my damn hands to myself when she’s close to me. I’ve gone caveman, and I need to fucking calm my shit down. It’s unprofessional, how I’ve been responding to her. And I’m nothing if not a goddamn professional.
Clearing my throat, I gesture toward the cat. “Lead on.”
May walks on ahead of me. “Thanks for that, by the way.”
“For what?” The hallway seems to go on for as long as the house, Mrs. Farrol’s portraits becoming nothing short of oppressive in their frequency.
“For apologizing.” She shrugs one shoulder. “I know how it sounds. I really do. But I’ve had this ability for my entire life, so it’s normal to me in a way that’s hard to explain to people who don’t have it. Like my own private little world that other people don’t understand, or worse, they think I’m lying. It’s—” she sighs “—it’s one of the reasons I’m like you.”
“Like me?”
She glances over her shoulder. “I work alone, too.”
Something in the way she says it lodges in my chest like a bullet. She’s lonely. Misunderstood. And this has been going on for her whole life? I have so many questions. If I were anywhere near a computer, I’d be pulling up every scrap of information on her that I could get my hands on. I’ll still do that, of course, but for now, I want to get to know her. She’s intriguing in a way I can’t explain. I need her to know she can be at ease around me.
“I don’t feel connected to people.” The words come haltingly, but I feel compelled to say them. “Most people,” I amend.
She stops and turns toward me.
Suddenly, my throat feels tight. I don’t know what I’m doing, confessing to a woman who I’ve only just met. There’s just something about her. Something wounded and raw but also indescribably beautiful. How I can see that about her, I honestly haven’t a clue. I’m no psychic. The only thing I ever need to know about people is if they’re the person I’ve been paid to find. I just can’t seem to get my bearings right now.
“I feel more connected to animals. Especially cats.” She smiles down at Princess Mousey. “Maybe you’re a cat person, too?”
The tightness recedes as I look at the prancing feline. “I’m not.”
“You might be.” May smiles, her eyes twinkling. “You should give it a chance.”
“I don’t like to gamble. I’m more into sure things.”
“Nothing’s a sure thing.” She shakes her head, then purses her lips. “Except cats. They don’t lie. Not ever.”
“Really?”
“Really.” She gestures toward Mousey. “They’re the only species I know of that will not tell a lie, no matter what.”
“Are you saying dogs are liars?” I ask.
May turns her head, as if listening to Princess Mousey, then she lets out a tinkling laugh.
“What did she say?” I guess I’m buying into this. I have no choice. I want to believe May, to believe she’s telling the truth.
“She said the chances of a dog telling the truth are dead even with the chances of a cat not landing on its feet.”
A laugh ricochets through my chest.
May smiles big, her face even more lovely. “You laughed.”
“She’s a funny cat.”
“You’re handsome when you laugh.” May slaps a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.
“Thank you.” I softly take her wrist and pull it away. “Don’t worry. I won’t let it go to my head.”
Her smile returns, my gaze drawn to her lips. I step closer to her. She doesn’t move away. God, she’s intoxicating.
Mousey lets out a curt meow and scratches at a door toward the end of the hallway of Mrs. Farrol’s pictures. Maybe cats can’t lie, but they can be a cock block. I shoot the cat a glare.
She ignores me and keeps pawing at the door.
“Oh, this is the maids’ quarters.” May goes to the door and grips the handle, then frowns. “She says that the maids can’t be trusted.”