All the Rules of Heaven (All That Heaven Will Allow #1) - Amy Lane Page 0,32

that had fallen over them.

Angel blinked at her. “What does that mean?”

“She’s asking if we’re lovers,” Tucker said dryly. “And sorry, Margie, but we just coexist together in Daisy Place. Angel is there to sort of clean the place out, and I’m going to fix it up when he’s done.”

“Oh.” Margie’s mouth drooped. “Well, that’s too bad. You’re perfect for each other. But I suppose you could be good for Josh’s son, Andover.”

“Andy!” Tucker sputtered. He reached above to the coffee table for one of the glasses of iced tea so he could take a hasty sip and compose himself.

“This surprises you?” she asked. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those horrible bigots who thinks that’s awful.”

“No, I’m just not used to being set up with my friend’s kids. Besides, his parents already mentioned the possibility, but he’s too young for me. And I didn’t know his name was Andover—that was definitely a surprise.”

“So you are gay?” she asked—not as though she were prying but simply clarifying.

“I swing a lot of ways,” Tucker replied playfully, and Angel could tell he was back on his stride again. It was interesting, the way he recoiled from the idea of being matched with someone, but he didn’t mind talking about his sexuality.

“What’s your favorite way?” Margie asked, bantering more than invading.

“Hm….” Tucker gazed thoughtfully into space while letting Squishbeans abuse his fingertips again. “I think it’s slow. Slow is my favorite way. But I have nothing against fast and hard either. So, you know, lots of ways to swing.”

Margie burst into a peal of delighted laughter. “That’s marvelous. How about you… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Angel,” he replied promptly, trying to think of a way to answer the question honestly. “And I swing the right way with whoever might be there at the time. That’s how I swing.”

Margie laughed at that one too, and urged iced tea on him.

“I’m sorry,” he said regretfully, trying to decide how to deal with this one. “I’m just not a fan of tea.” As far as he knew.

“Well, you’ve made me laugh, and I think you’re taking one of my babies off my hands. I think I can forgive you.”

“That’s kind,” he said, meaning it. “And we’re really grateful for the kitten.” He looked around the pen, frowning. “Where’s the mother cat?”

“Well,” Margie said, leaning forward. “It was the oddest thing. The mama cat showed up on my doorstep all skin and bones. She looked all the way dead, not half-dead. If she hadn’t been walking in on her own power, I would have buried her. But she came in the house, found a towel on the floor in the washroom, and curled up there, hissing, at about eleven o’clock at night. I just figured she’d either die during the night or leave in the morning.”

“She didn’t?” Angel asked, fascinated.

“Well, she died—but first she had a litter of kittens. I got up that morning and there were seven kittens trying to nurse from a cat that was damned near decomposing.” Margie shuddered. “Creepiest thing I ever saw. I buried the cat under a bush in my backyard, and you know, I think the bush is dying. But the kittens were just as happy and as lively as anything I’ve ever seen. I think I’m going to keep the last two, because they are such good company. And I hand-fed them, you know? I hate to see them go.”

“I bet,” Tucker said. Angel glanced over and saw he was holding Squishbeans up and examining him thoroughly, as though looking for something most kittens wouldn’t have. “So, uh, Margie, do you have any idea where this cat came from? I mean, did anybody in town remember seeing her?”

Margie shrugged. “Well, I told old Bill up at the grocery store about her—I had to, he was the only one who carried kitten formula, and I was desperate. He said he’d seen a clowder up right by your house, Tucker. You know, by the turnout where the old graveyard is?”

Tucker caught his breath and looked at Squishbeans again. Squishbeans responded by trying to eat his (her?) tail, and Angel shrugged. Well, maybe it was a graveyard cat, but like the other kittens, it saw him, responded to him, although only this one seemed to think he was a decent fellow.

It was like Angel’s dream request for a cat—except Tucker had been the one to wake up with the sudden need.

Angel cocked his head at Tucker, who ignored him and