continued to banter with Margie.
Roommates. But she’d asked them if they were lovers.
Angel didn’t know what this feeling was in his stomach, but he did know that being Tucker Henderson’s lover would have more benefits than just a fluffy gray kitten named Squishbeans.
They spent a pleasant hour there. Margie was warm and funny, and she talked occasionally about her children—a daughter in San Diego, a son in Portland—but she also talked about the townspeople in Foresthill. She owned one of the boutiques where Rae sold her jewelry, and Tucker seemed to enjoy letting her ramble and gossip. He kept his head cocked and a slight smile on his face while Squishbeans maintained a perma-cuddle in his arms, and Angel got the feeling he was soaking up the human contact—and the discussion of other humans—like a flower in a drought soaked up water.
Finally, though, Tucker finished both their iced teas and then stood gracefully. He stretched, careful not to disturb the kitten in his arms, and offered his hand to Margie.
“Thank you for a lovely afternoon, milady.”
“Anytime, young sir. If you and your ‘roommate’ ever wish to come by just to visit, you are very welcome.”
Angel frowned to himself as he followed Tucker out. “Why doesn’t she believe we’re just roommates?” he asked, thinking they were out of earshot.
“It’s in your eyes, Angel!” Margie called out. “Stop looking at him like that.”
Tucker startled and looked at him, and Angel studiously looked away. Behind them, Margie burst into a delighted cackle of laughter, and then Tucker got in the truck, saying loudly, “Let me get the door—it sticks.”
Angel stood obediently and then made a show of climbing into the cab while Tucker reached across him and slammed it shut.
Then Tucker put Squishbeans on the seat between them and looked at him apprehensively. “Is he going to stay there, you think? Because I didn’t bring a crate, and you can’t…. Seriously?”
Oh…. Angel could touch him. The cat curled into his cupped hands with the ultimate of trust, and Angel gathered it to his chest and let that purr vibrate through his incorporeal body.
“Damn,” Tucker said, blinking hard. “That’s… that’s really fucking weird.”
A peace Angel had never known emanated from his soul. “Tucker, this cat… this cat was the best idea. I’ve never felt about anything the way I feel about this cat.”
Then Angel remembered that bittersweet look on Tucker’s face when he’d been holding the cat while sitting on Margie’s carpet. “Is that bad?” he asked, hoping not, because that might ruin it. “Do you want to go in and get a cat that’s just for Tucker?”
Tucker reached across the seat and ran a finger down the cat’s nose. “Naw, Angel. We might as well share this one. I do not know the deal with these graveyard zombie baby cats, but this one here seems to have been tailor-made for you.”
Angel’s feeling of well-being remained, but he was able to disengage his mind from it for a little. “That was a very strange story,” he said, searching his memory and intuition. “Do you think the cats are evil?”
Squishbeans purred some more, and Angel hunched his shoulders around it—wait. Her. Angel wasn’t sure how he knew, but he knew. Her.
“I doubt it,” Tucker said, rubbing his chest. “At least that’s explained.”
“What’s explained?”
“The sudden urge I had to get a cat. It really wasn’t for me.” He sighed a little. “But that’s not a bad thing either. I saw some curry and coconut milk in the groceries you bought. Thai chicken, here I come!”
Angel managed to fully pull himself away from Squishbeans. “You’ll find something,” he said quietly. “Something yours.”
Tucker’s mouth twisted a little. “Are you kidding? I’ve got my own pet ghost and a cat who can move through dimensional space. And Thai food. I’m good.”
But Angel heard the bitter covered up by the bright. He’s not, Squishbeans. There’s something in him so hurt he’s trying to forget it by keeping busy with food or projects or cats.
“Will you be missed back in Sacramento?” Angel asked.
“Well, it’s only an hour down the road,” Tucker said, shrugging. “And no. Most of my college friends drifted away after school. I don’t work, so, you know. No work friends. The folks at the gym might, but they’re used to people dropping out all the time. The bookstore maybe?”
Angel frowned. “Why didn’t you work?”
“For the same reason Aunt Ruth didn’t work,” Tucker said shortly. “And the same reason graveyard cats are born just in time for you to