The Whispering Dead (Gravekeeper #1) - Darcy Coates Page 0,31

many people think they’re aloof, but Ruffles could have beaten a lot of dogs in the affection department. What about you? Cats or dogs?”

“Uh…” Keira took a moment to sift through the deepest parts of her mind she could reach. “I think I’m a cat person. I’m going to miss this guy when he goes at least. It was nice having him around.”

“Looks like she’s a lady actually.” The black creature was gnawing on Mason’s thumb, but he didn’t seem to mind. “And a very friendly one at that.”

“A girl, huh? I should’ve checked. She certainly seems to like you.” Keira was having too much fun watching Mason play with the cat and turned back to the shopping before it became obvious that she was staring. She picked out the closest can and frowned at the label. It advertised pickled beetroots.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” As Keira dug through the shopping, she found the reason for why the bags felt so heavy. At some point between picking up the basket and handing Keira the filled bags, Zoe had managed to sneak half a dozen cans of vegetables and fish into the shopping.

“Everything okay, Keira?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s fine. Just coming to terms with the fact that I befriended a ninja.” Keira let her words drop into grumbles as she pulled the cans out. I have my own food. All I needed was something for the cat.

Mason gracefully ignored her mutters. He came up beside her, still cradling the feline in one arm, to fill a bowl with water. Keira picked out one of the cat food cans and pulled open the lid. The cat turned from a malleable lump of squishy fur in Mason’s arms into a writhing ball of energy. It squirmed out of his grip and dropped to the ground with a loud thump before bouncing to its feet.

“Yikes,” she said, shaking the food onto the plate as the cat weaved around her legs. “You must be hungry. Poor thing.”

She put the plate on the ground, and the cat buried its face in it. The sight sent a gnawing sense of guilt digging into her stomach. How long has she been without food?

She looked up and realized Mason had been watching her. His expression had lost its warmth and seemed to hold something deeply sad and dissatisfied. It was an unpleasant contrast to his usual cheerfulness, and she clutched around for something to distract him with. “I’ve been wasting your time. You didn’t come here to feed my cat.”

He smiled at that, and some of the warmth returned. “Ha, don’t worry about it. This is hardly a waste. But let’s have a look at that war wound.”

They took the same seats as they had the day before. Keira pulled off the sweaters, and Mason burst out laughing.

“What?” She blinked, surprised, as Mason’s whole body shook with his chuckles.

“Oh, you’re definitely a cat person. How can you not be with a shirt like that?”

She looked down at her chest. The bug-eyed cat design stared back at her, and she sent Mason a wicked grin. “Don’t laugh. It’s the best T-shirt I’ve ever seen. I fully intend to wear it around town and make everyone jealous and start a fashion revolution.”

Laughing too hard to focus on her shoulder, he had to lean his forehead against the chair’s back. The mirth was infectious, and Keira couldn’t resist watching him as his cheeks turned pink and his shoulders shook. But as his chuckles subsided and he straightened to examine the stitched cut, she couldn’t wipe away the memory of how dark his eyes had looked just moments before. As though he truly was hiding something.

“This is looking good,” Mason said. His hands were warm against her skin.

Keira didn’t know where to look—at the fingers gently prodding around the stitches, at Mason’s face, or at the cold fire grate. She settled on the final option but couldn’t stop glancing at the man leaning close. “There’s no sign of infection, so I’m really happy about that. Keep it clean, rest up, et cetera. We can take the stitches out in a few days.”

He poured antiseptic onto a cotton ball and dabbed around the area before reapplying the bandages. “How are you finding Blighty? Not too dull, I hope?”

“I kind of have the opposite problem.” Gunmen, conspiracy theorists, ghosts—there’s not much room for boredom here. Keira licked her lips. She’d been looking for an opening to ask about the cemetery’s resident spirit. Mason’s question