Curse of the Second Date (2 page)

So many aspects to the woman. So many more
waiting for him to discover. He wanted to stick around and learn
each and every one.

*She's mine. Don't get any ideas.*

No. No way was he hallucinating this. The
sound was coming from the cat.

Jake leaned over and whispered harshly, "You
do not own her. She is not your pet or your slave."

*She's mine, dimwit. Get used to it. You
leave tonight. Out on your can.*

"For someone who tries to act so royal, your
language certainly doesn't reflect it," Jake whispered back.

Oh, that insulted him. The back arched, and
the golden cat-eyes narrowed. Oh, if this creature could, it would
pounce him.

*You do not know what she needs. I do.*

"She wants someone who loves her as she is.
Who appreciates her traits. I do. Rather selfish of you to decide
for her what she needs."

"Jake, who are you talking to?"

Jake jerked up straight. Damn. The cat was
now laughing.

"Uh, to Reginald, of course. He's rather
possessive. But then, a lot of cats are over their owners." Jake
smiled at her. "Look, Reginald. Millie put out food for you. You
should go eat your snack."

*And leave you here alone, Romeo? Not a
chance. Just try and get past me. There will be no loveseat
activities tonight!*

Oh my. Did Millie just blush? Such a lovely
color on her lovely skin.

Just watch him get past the cat. "About that
third date. Maybe this Friday or Saturday night? There is a fun
play at the local theater."

She smiled. "I love the theater, and hate
going alone."

And there was his way in. He jumped on it.
"Then choose the day and we'll go. I'll get the tickets. I know the
producer."

*Cough cough. I feel an illness coming
on.*

"You know the producer? You really are into
the theater?" Millie's eyes sparkled as she settled on the other
end of the loveseat. Close enough he could reach out and touch her
knee if he dared.

He didn't dare right now. "Of course. Why
would I say such a thing unless true?"

"Oh, I know." Millie waved a hand. "But,
people say a lot of things on the first few dates they say only to
impress the other. At least, that's what happens to me a lot."

*Men are scum. Human men. Not me.*

He shook his head, trying to ignore the
other running commentary. "If I didn't mean it, I wouldn't have
said it. A relationship is too important to play such games
with."

Millie jumped to the edge of her seat, her
face bright. "Me too! It's no basis to start anything, not even a
friendship."

*Go ahead. Tell her you just want to be her
friend. I dare you.*

Oh, he had something better to say than
that. "Millie, you and I have worked at the same company for years.
We have the friend-thing down. I don't think that's what either of
us is interested in, in the long-term."

That got a growl out of Reginald. Good. Let
him growl.

Millie leaned forward, only to wince. Jack
took her poor bruised hand into his, ever so lightly tracing the
lines of blue forming along the top. "I am so sorry I hurt you. I
would rather hurt myself first. Forget the ice pack?"

Millie watched his finger run over the tops
of her own, as if mesmerized. "Right. Ice pack. Forgot it."

Jack reluctantly let her hand go. "The ice
will help with the bruising."

*You hurt her? You bastard.*

She started. "Oh, right. I left it on the
counter."

She jumped up and headed into the kitchen.
Jake leaned down the other way towards a glaring Reginald. "It was
an accident, you fur-ball. I would never harm her purposely."

Reginald's ears lay back
against his head and bared his sharp teeth.
*You harmed my Millie. Prepare to die.*

"Like you've never accidentally hooked her
with your claws? She showed me the cut on her hand from a few weeks
ago!" Jake whispered at him, his voice growing harsh.

*That was an accident, dimwit. She startled
me!*

"Exactly. An accident. Just like with you.
So, get off your high-horse with me."

"Jack, are you talking to Reginald?"

Jack jerked straight. This time he knew it
was him who blushed. He could feel the heat not only in his face,
but in his ears and down his neck.

"Uh, well…"

"Reginald, were you talking to him?" Millie
demanded of the cat, her own eyes narrowed.

Reginald glared at
Jack.
*Another human has to hear me, and
it's you? Bastard.*

Jack stood, no longer able to simply sit
down. He paced to the mantle with the pictures, trying to
concentrate on the faces and images there. This could not be
happening. Not right now when he was so close to getting Millie to
agree to a third date.

"Jack?" Millie asked, a hint of uncertainty
in her voice.

He sighed and turned around. Okay, fine.
Best to come right out with it. Be truthful.

"Millie, please don't think I'm crazy, but I
swear your cat is talking to me. Insulting me mostly, actually." He
paused, trying to judge what she was thinking by the expressions on
her face. Hard to, but then she'd always been that way. One of the
reasons he hadn't known for so long that she was interested in
going out on a date with him until a mutual friend played
matchmaker.

He shrugged, but he couldn't quite make
himself laugh about it. "I know it sounds crazy. It does to even
me, but I swear it's happening."

"Has it ever happened before?" Millie asked
slowly.

"No, and we had four cats growing up! And if
any cat would have been mouthy, it would have been our
Skitter."

Millie suddenly laughed. She flopped down on
the loveseat, a big grin on her face. "I tried to hold out for a
week when I first brought him home. I even made an appointment with
a therapist before Reginald sat me down and we had a long
talk."

On a night of disaster and bizarre
happenings, Jack couldn't believe it, either. Couldn't now, even
with what Millie just said.

He took a step towards her. "You can hear
him, too?"

"Yep. And don't feel bad. He badmouths every
man I invite in. Even the cable man. Makes it hard to talk about
anything serious in here." The glare she cast in Reginald's
direction was filled with affection. "And he is mouthy."

*Not mouthy. I excel in
discriminating conversation,*
Reginald
said with a sniff.

Jack ignored him, keeping all his attention
on Millie. "This is a first for either one of us?"

She smiled up at him. "Glad I don't think
you're crazy?"

He smiled back relief washing over him in
almost painful waves. "Oh, I think we are both crazy, but that's
just fine by me." He sat down next to her, putting an arm along the
back of the loveseat behind her head. "Just so long as we are both
crazy the same way."

Millie leaned ever so slightly towards him.
"Glad to hear it."

He couldn't help his own lean towards her.
"Going the same direction?"

"Friday."

Jake stopped his move towards her.
"Friday?"

"Yes, Friday, silly. For the theater."

Her short hair felt silky running off the
tips of his fingers. "Friday. It's a date."

Millie reached over and tugged at his tie.
"You bet, mister."

Their lips touched. What sweetness. Ecstasy.
Everything he'd dreamed of ever since he'd accepted the reality of
their first wonderful date.

The disasters of the night disappeared in an
instance. Only this mattered. He and Millie, together. Somehow,
they had a chance. He didn't know how it happened. He didn't care.
Just so long as it happened.

*I told you, no loveseat
dancing,*
an indignant voice
said.

Millie started giggling against his lips.
She pulled back and collapsed into laughter.

Jack glared into the eyes of Reginald, who
now sat on the back of the loveseat. Two glaring males, possessive
over the wonderful graceful Millie.

As Millie continued to laugh, Jack said
through gritted teeth, "Bastard."

The End

ABOUT THE
AUTHOR

J.A. MARLOW WRITES in many science fiction
genres including adventure, space opera, and young adult. Her
series include “The String Weavers” and “Salmon Run” series. A
private pilot with several years of flying experience in Alaska,
she brings to her works a touch of the mystery and exotic nature of
the land sometimes called “the last frontier.”

Publisher Homepage:
http://starcatcherpub.com

Author Homepage:
JAMarlow.com

Twitter ID:
jamarlow_sf

Email:
[email protected]

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Ebook ISBN: 978-1-937042-42-4

Published exclusively by: Star Catcher
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Copyright 2014
J.A.
Marlow.
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