mousers.”
“This does not come as news,” Kirby said dryly, feeling her stomach twinge all over again.
“Well, hand her over and I’ll be out of your hair.”
Kirby pushed the porch door open and waved him inside. “Be my guest.”
He clutched his hat more tightly and grumbled some as he came up on the porch, his progress hampered a bit by a bad hip.
“Matilda needs to do a better job monitoring her offspring,” Kirby said as he passed by. “Or maybe you need to make a little kitten corral until they’re old enough to know where they live.”
He grumbled some more, but she couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying, which was probably just as well. He reached down and went to grab the kitten by her scruff, causing Kirby to involuntarily suck in her breath. That earned her a glare.
“You got something else to tell me about handling barn cats?”
She thought about the scratches all over her body and Brett’s, and shook her head. “No, but since you have to make it all the way back up the hill, feel free to just bundle her up in that sweater. We don’t need it back.”
She fully expected him to reject that offer, just on principle, but he surprised her by scooping up the sweater with the kitten nestled inside. The kitten yawned, stretched, seemed momentarily disoriented by what was going on, but didn’t seem to struggle any further when he tucked the sweater, feline and all, against his bony chest. Kirby only hoped that plaid jacket and the denim beneath it were as heavy as they looked. Somehow she couldn’t imagine the little terrorist remaining calm during their entire trek.
“I’ll be on my way. You see any of this batch again, I’d appreciate a call next time.”
“Oh, you’ll hear from me, don’t you worry.” And you’re welcome, Kirby wanted to add, but was happy enough to see this situation concluded that she managed to bite her tongue.
“Who’s we?” Clemson asked as he made his way back down the steps.
“What?” Kirby asked, confused.
“Owner of this fine piece of sweater, I imagine.” He jammed his cap back on his bald head and squinted back at her as the sun hit him in the face. “Heard you had a new boarder.”
Kirby opened her mouth, then closed it again. He’d come down here to give her a hard time for saving his precious next-generation mouser and now he wanted to gossip?
“Seen that fancy bike. Tell him to stay clear of my property. Damn kids on dirt bikes last summer ruined more than an acre leaving tire ruts.”
“I don’t think you need to concern yourself about that in this case.”
“Well, just see that he doesn’t.”
Kirby sighed a little, but didn’t bother to explain that a Harley was hardly a dirt bike and she doubted her fully grown guest was going to suddenly decide to go off road with it up the back of her hill. “I’ll make sure to mention it.”
“Neighbors supposed to take care of one another,” he said as he ambled across the expanse of groomed grass behind the inn. “Why I prefer not to have any. Can’t count on anyone these days but yourself.” Beyond the cut grass, the land turned into a grassy, rocky field, which then stretched up into trails that led to the top of the hill and beyond.
“Which is why I saved your damn cat, you miserable old coot,” she said, but too softly to carry very far. “Careful on the trail,” she called out.
“Been walking these hills all of my seventy-two years. Don’t need some green little missie telling me how to handle myself. Just because I’ve been on God’s good earth a mite longer than you doesn’t mean I’m anything less than fully capable.”
She stood on the back porch, the morning breeze carrying his grumbling and muttering back to her until he was well beyond her property line.
“Quite the character,” came Brett’s deep voice just beside her ear. “You weren’t kidding about the crotchety part.”
She startled at the sound of his voice, and he steadied her. With his hands on her hips. Which he left there.
“He’s just mad because I snatched up this property before he could finally convince the town council to let him tear down the old house and add the whole parcel to the land he already owned. He’d have been king of the mountain then. Had I known what having him as a neighbor was like, I might have kept looking and let