Cat's Out...a Darla The Alpha Cat Novel

Chapter 5 - Wish Granted

The Frosty Freeze is a short walk past million dollar homes that trickle down into a strip mall and the usual orbiting food dives. Jacquelyn and I sit outside under an umbrella at a table that should never, ever be touched by food intended for consumption.

"So," Jacquelyn starts, "your parents are divorced, your pop dumped you on Mom for the summer, and you prefer dips over sprinkles."

"You've brilliantly summed up my entire existence." I tear a chunk of the chocolate bark off my cone. I still love chocolate and ice-cream, but the fresh-meat craving is always in the background. "Now my turn. Your dad is never home, your mother hates the ultra-short shorts you're wearing, and you have a pug that you are embarrassed to be seen with."

Jacquelyn tips her Mackinaw Island Fudge cone my way. "Close. My mother is never home. I have a cat named Slash. My father doesn't even know I snuck out of the house in these because he can't tear his face from his computer between the hours of 6 am and 11 pm."

"Day trader?"

"Worse. Writer."

"Well, that's kind of cool."

"It would be if he ever published anything. He can't finish what he starts and spends most of his time talking to his writer buddies online." She takes a bite out of her ice cream and talks around the mouthful. "It's a temporary agreement he and Mom have."

"How long has he been trying?"

"Eight years."

I laugh, turning my head just in time to avoid spewing ice cream iall over Jacqueline. Unfortunately, I fail to notice the tall, well-tanned, nicely proportioned guy who'd slid into the next table. I stare in horror as the white trails of vanilla spit worm their way down his bare leg. Which, of course, I cannot tear my eyes from.

After his initial jump, an understandable reaction when one is fired upon, he turns my way. His sun-tea colored eyes threaten to melt the rest of my cone. He smirks. "Normally I get at least two dates before a girl spits on me."

Help. "Oh...well...I like to skip the preliminary stuff." I jump from my bench and race to the counter for a handful of napkins. As I attempt to wipe off my mess, it occurs to me that this might not be appropriate. I stop in mid-wipe and look up into his eyes again. Yup. My ice-cream will puddle into history.

"You do work fast." He takes the napkins from me and finishes the job.

It occurs to me that my new friend is in hysterics behind me. I turn and glare at her. "Not funny!" I mouth.

Jacquelyn stifles the rest of her glee and clears her throat. "Darla, this is Grant. Grant, Darla."

Grant extends his hand. "Pleased to have you spit on me, Darla."

"Likewise," I say, taking his hand limply into mine.

I am not prone to being smitten. Oh, I appreciate hotness when hotness comes my way, but it's usually more like an art major admiring a Picasso. Grant, however, is beyond appreciation. He's passed Go and gone directly into the land of I'm-going-to-check-my-texts-every-two-minutes.

"Grant goes to my school," Jacquelyn continues, "but he's a year ahead." Her eyes scan the parking lot. "And isn't that your car over there, Grant? My. Mmm. That is a nice car. Back seat and everything."

I flash Jacquelyn another glare.

Grant gives me a twisted grin. "I apologize for Jack. She's already been voted most likely to appear in more than one reality show...in all four grades."

"Join us, Grant." If "Jack" had said it any louder, Grants from Ohio would have shown up.

My body heats up a degree or ten as Grant slides in next to me with his sundae, which he's barely touched. Surely, he's not alone. If he were mine, I'd put a tracking bracelet on his ankle and lock him in my room until all sixteen of our children graduated med school.