He was so impossibly close that it made it hard for me to focus. I still wasn’t sure exactly what was happening and whether or not I should be happy about it.
“You’re a great P.I., and it’s time you went into business for yourself. You can’t do that if you’re still spending half your days at Longfellow and Associates, so… You’re fired.”
“Thank you?” I said, guessing at the appropriate response. There may have been precedents regarding Ethel’s estate, but what was happening between me and Charles right now was completely and totally new.
He laughed softly. “Don’t thank me. I’m doing this for selfish reasons, too.”
“Oh?” I asked on a soft exhale. Still so uneasy about how close we were. Still wanting that kiss.
“Yeah, because when I was your boss, I couldn’t do this.”
I sucked in a deep breath, but before I could let it out, Charles’s lips were on mine. Oh my gosh, I was kissing Charles!
And it was everything I’d ever dreamed it would be.
“Humans are disgusting,” Octo-Cat complained, taking a swipe at my arm. Thankfully, it was much gentler than the number he’d done on Anne.
Charles laughed as he pulled away. “Let me guess, he didn’t like that.”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “But not because he’s jealous, because he thinks it’s gross.”
Charles rolled his eyes, which just so happened to have happy sparkles in them at the moment. “Whatever, cat. I know you call me UpChuck behind my back.”
“Boys, boys,” I said, smiling so hard that the corners of my mouth hurt. “You’re just going to have to find a way to share.”
I stood, and Charles immediately laced his fingers between mine, leaving Octo-Cat to follow behind on foot.
“I can’t believe you’re choosing to focus on this needless romance when you should be focused on getting me Evian as soon as humanly possible,” my cat grumbled predictably.
I scooped him up in my free arm and held him as we walked out of the courthouse. “When we get home, there’s someone very special I want you to meet.”
“Ugh, why? I’m so tired,” he whined.
“He’s the president of your fan club,” I revealed, picturing how insanely happy Pringle would be to meet his idol.
“Can I be the president of your fan club?” Charles asked, giving my hand a squeeze.
I pretended to think about this for a moment. “I don’t really need a fan club, but you can be my boyfriend. That is if you—”
Charles stopped walking, pulled me close, and kissed me again.
I took that to mean he agreed.
What’s Next?
My crazy old Nan loves making decisions on a whim. Last week, she took up flamenco dancing. This week, she’s adopted a trouble-making Chihuahua named Paisley. This wouldn’t be much of a problem, were it not for the very crabby tabby who also lives with us.
Man, I never thought I’d miss hearing Octo-Cat’s voice, but his silent protest is becoming too much to bear, especially since we just opened our new P.I. business together.
Things go from bad to worse, of course, when Nan and I discover that someone has been embezzling funds from the local animal shelter. If we can’t find the culprit soon, the shelter may not be able to keep its lights on and those poor homeless pets won’t have anywhere to go.
Okay, so I just need to find the thief, rescue the animals, and save the day—all while trying to find a way for Octo-Cat and Paisley to set aside their differences and work together as a team. Yeah, wish me luck…
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Sneak Peek: Chihuahua Conspiracy
Hi, I’m Angie Russo, and this last year has been quite the wild ride for me. Yes, it’s been exactly one year since my entire life changed for the better.
Sure, I’ve come face-to-face with a lot of dangerous characters lately—murderers, kidnappers, creeps, you name it—but I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone else’s.
Here’s the deal… It all started at my former job as a paralegal.
A wealthy old woman had just died, and her heirs had gathered at our office for the official will reading. I was instructed to make coffee, and, well, that was the last time I ever attempted such a dangerous feat.
You see, I got electrocuted and knocked unconscious. I woke up with a wicked fear of coffee makers and, oh, also the ability to talk to animals. At first, I could only talk to this one cat named Octavius Maxwell Ricardo Edmund Frederick Fulton. He was one of the primary beneficiaries of his late owner’s estate, and I now call him Octo-Cat for short.
Long story short, he told me the old lady was murdered and begged me to help him catch the killer. We did, and we pretty much became best friends in the process. Now he lives with me, and I oversee his care and also his generous trust fund.
And because I accidentally made an open-ended deal with him when I needed to get him to wear a pet harness, we now reside in his former owner’s exquisite manor house. Yes, a ten-dollar neon green harness ended up costing me a cool million.
At least most of the money was my cat’s, anyway.
Yeah. A lot has happened over the last year. My cat and I solved three more murders together. He got catnapped. I finally quit my paralegal job so we could open up a private investigation firm together, and oh, yeah… I got a boyfriend!
My nan might be even more excited about that one than I am. She’d been trying to matchmake me for years, and now that she’s finally succeeded, she’s not quite sure what to do with herself.
Yes, she continues to bake up a storm in the kitchen and take her community art classes, but lately she’s also been flipping through new hobbies like they’re going out of style. There’s been flamenco dancing, learning Korean as a second language, even Pokémon Go. She claims Pikachu understands her on a spiritual level. Personally, I don’t get it.
My mom and dad are busy with their jobs as Blueberry Bay’s local news anchor and designated sports guy. Nan and I have them over once per week for a nice home-cooked meal. Did I mention my grandmother and I live together?
It’s not weird. She’s not just the woman who raised me, but she’s also my best friend and the most amazing person I know. She even helps with Octo-Cat’s lavish demands and rigorous schedule.
And between the two of us, we keep him dining on only the seafood flavors of Fancy Feast and drinking Evian from his favorite Lenox teacup.
Most recently, he’s demanded a brand new iPad Pro. His reasoning? That he needed a professional upgrade to go along with our new business venture. Never mind that he uses his tablet primarily to play various fish tank and koi pond games.
He’s given his old device to the president of his fan club, a raccoon who lives under our front porch. His name is Pringle, and he’s a pretty all right guy most of the time. Octo-Cat definitely enjoys having a fanboy to support every single decision he makes, including his regular criticism of me.
It’s true. Octo-Cat complains a lot, but I also know he loves me tons. That’s why I’m planning a special evening to celebrate our petaversary. I’m not sure he remembers, but after tonight he will.
I can’t wait to see the look on his little kitty face when he sees what I have planned for him. Let the games begin!
It wasn’t easy hiding my party preparation from Octo-Cat, but so far he hadn’t managed to catch on. Rather than cooking something myself, I asked Nan to pick up some grilled shrimp and lobster rolls from the Little Dog Diner in Misty Cove. It’s a bit of a drive, but worth every mile.
Nan would be returning any minute, which meant it was time for me to wake the guest of honor. I found him sleeping in his five o’clock sunspot on the western side of the house. “Wakey, wakey!” I cried in a sing-song voice he loathed.