stuck on his mouth as he slowly sipped chocolate milk from a straw, stopping to molest his lips with his tongue every once in a while.
It had been bad enough, I'd actually groaned out loud when I heard the sputter of the straw when the chocolate milk was no more. Whether it was gratitude for the torture being over or misery… because the torture was over, I wasn't sure. All I knew was there were just some things that shouldn't be sexy and before today, I would have thought drinking chocolate milk was one of those things.
How many times had I seen people drink chocolate milk? The Lord only knows, but a lot. And how many times had I found it sexy? Okay, I definitely remember watching him drink his milk in high school being a problem for me then too, but as an adult, just the one time.
I was just stepping on the stone path that led to his front door, sweating a little, and definitely using my pants as a napkin for my hands, when something wrapped itself around my ankles, tripping me up.
Looking down, I was greeted with bright cerulean eyes and a fluffy––and I mean in both fur and fat––white body. I knew I was looking at a cat, but I had to admit, I wouldn't be surprised to find that the cat had been experimented on considering the size of its enormous paws and head. Even the fact that it was clearly obese did nothing to minimize the impact of those two features. And with its light gray mask and the strange stripe that ran down the center of its back, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was possibly some kind of tiger-domestic cat hybrid with horrid metabolism.
It purred and rubbed its pointed chin against my jeans, so I did what any human being who'd ever been granted attention by a cat would do, I leaned down and scooped it into my arms, and immediately started scratching between its ears and then down under its chin.
Mazie.
"Mazie," a familiar voice called, coming from around the corner of the house. "Here kitty, kitty, kitty."
"You just became even more amazing," I whispered to the cat, nuzzling my face against his soft fur just as Newell emerged from around the corner, giving a startled gasp when he saw me. I looked up, smiling brightly while still rubbing the cat's ears, making him purr happily. "So, you're the owner of this sweetheart?"
He curled his lip, eyeing the little animal in my arms before shaking his head. "That's not my cat."
I was a bit distracted by the fact that he looked absolutely adorable in soft gray sleep pants and a yellow t-shirt that said, Y'all stand back. I'm 'bout to science, on it in bright orange writing, outlined in hot pink, so it took me a moment to realize what he'd said.
"Are you sure? It seems like a crazy coincidence that you are missing a cat, and this one just seems to have appeared out of nowhere… with a tag around her neck that says Mazie."
He shook his head, crossing his arms. "Imposter. It looks like her, but my cat is rude and would never snuggle a stranger… unless she is planning your murder."
"She's been eyeing my jugular," I said, shrugging and then handing her over to her owner when he reached for her.
One of his hands brushed against the bare skin of my arm while the other brushed my cloth covered chest as we made the exchange, and again, I felt like a young idiot as my heart and body reacted to the contact like it had never had contact before.
On impulse, I stepped closer, reaching up to pet the cat's head while looking into Newell's eyes, drawn to him the same way I'd always been. I wanted to touch him. To taste him.
"So, you inherited Maggie's house?" I asked, still invading his space a little too much under the pretense of petting his cat.
Hell, I'd use any excuse I could to stare down into his bright green eyes and breathe in his fresh scent.
I almost laughed when he scrunched his nose, trying to slide his glasses back in place as he blinked up at me. It was a habit he'd had even back in high school. Like the effort of reaching up with his hand to push his glasses further up his nose was too inefficient a use for his time.
"Yeah." He sounded surprised and his glasses only