Page 13 of A Love Like Pumpkin Spice (Wayward Hollow #1)

Henry

“Is it Halloween already? You’re as white as a ghost!” Kieran’s bashful greeting is followed by a more subdued, “Seriously, though. Are you okay, Nic?”

My head whips around when I hear her name and the worry in his voice. Jensen jumps up with a happy growl, thinking we’re leaving, but I gently push him back down.

“Sorry, sorry, we’re not going yet,” I whisper, but my eyes are on the back of her blonde head and uncharacteristically ruffled hair.

“You sure know how to compliment a woman,” Nic answers, sarcasm dripping from her voice, then playfully pushes Kieran aside. “Caleb. I need coffee. Urgently. I ran out, and I’m running on two hours of sleep. Three extra espresso shots, please.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Caleb’s brow furrows, his eyes darting from her face to the window as if trying to find an escape route.

But she nods and points at his coffee machine impatiently.

I catch Kieran’s eyes over the counter, seeing the eagerness to ask her about her job shining in them, and subtly shake my head.

I don’t know why he deems it important. After all, it’s only a job. He wasn’t that surprised when he learned I was a vet or that Caleb owned the café.

“ Two. Hours. Caleb. Chop chop, there’s a kitten in my car, and I need liquid consciousness.” She slaps her hand on the counter, then curses under her breath when her palm hurts. “Please.”

Caleb’s eyes widen, and he turns around without another word.

And once Nic turns around, his reaction makes a lot of sense.

I haven’t seen her in the past five days.

Ever since she brought that kitten that could go head-to-head with Mariah Carey at her glitteriest to me, but now she looks …

unhinged. Like she’s been through a bar brawl. And lost. Twice.

Her bloodshot eyes appear as though she would set the world on fire with them if she could. She’s got dark bags under her eyes, and the color of her face resembles the milk Caleb is frothing up to make her espresso shots somewhat drinkable.

“Now we’re leaving,” I whisper to Jensen, grabbing my coffee as I get up. Caleb shoots me a glare that’s probably supposed to say, “ Don’t do it, man, ” but I can’t help it.

I know what’s keeping her awake. And there’s no way I can put the life of tiny kitten into the hands of a woman who had two hours of sleep.

When I became a vet, I vowed to devote my life to saving animals—I truly have an obligation to step in.

It’s a completely unselfish act of heroism I’m performing here.

“Yeah, you’re not drinking that.” I take the paper cup out of Caleb’s hand as he tries to hand it to her.

“I’m asking this with all due respect, Henry, but do you want to die today?”

Her angry eyes drill into my face, but I don’t relent. I put the cup down in front of Kieran, way out of her reach. Then I grab an empty one from the other side of the counter and pour my own coffee in there, and finally put both into a cup carrier.

“Do you ? You’re about three yawns away from becoming a cautionary tale. Let’s go before you pass out mid-glare. Come on.”

“ Give me that coffee,” she complains, but I keep it out of her reach.

“We’re taking my car.”

“The hell we are,” she argues, almost running into the glass door.

“Nic.” I step closer and lean in until my mouth is right next to her ear. “You can barely walk in a straight line. You’re about to fall asleep standing up. Let me drive you home and take on kitten duty. I might not look like it, but I do know a thing or two about what I’m doing.”

“But—”

“No ‘but.’” I put my hand on the small of her back to guide her through the door and to my car.

Jensen Ackles follows us dutifully and jumps into the trunk as soon as I open it.

Nic isn’t quite as obedient, but after a few more muttered curses, she’s in the passenger seat, buckled in with her eyes glued to the cup carrier in my left hand.

“Do. Not. Touch. It.”

“But—”

My glare makes her shut up and cross her arms in front of her chest. I can’t believe she ran herself to this state for the kitten instead of asking Lauren for help or calling me. My face softens.

She seems so used to doing everything by herself, so determined to handle everything on her own.

But I won’t have her head straight into a health crisis if I can prevent it.

I just hope that one day, I’ll have her trust—that I can be the person she turns to when she needs support.

My heart warms, knowing I truly did the right thing by sending the kitten home with her.

I have no doubts that the two can heal each other.

“Car keys?” Mumbling, she pulls them out of her pocket and puts them into my palm. Her car is parked right in front of mine, so I quickly collect the kitten and put the box into her lap while I climb into the driver’s seat.

“ Can I have some coffee now?” she asks, followed by a loud yawn.

“Just a little longer,” I assure her, the way you would tell a toddler they’ll get something tomorrow but actually mean never. “Why don’t you close your eyes for a while?”

“I can’t,” she tries to argue, wiggling in her seat to sit up.

Subtly, I turn on the seat heater, hoping the warmth will help her relax.

“Damn. Anyone ever tell you you’re hot when you’re bossy?

” I almost don’t hear her over the sound of the engine, but when I do, I freeze.

She thinks I’m hot? “I like you more when you’re nice, though. ”

By the time we make it to her house, she can barely keep her eyes open. Her head keeps falling forward as she drifts off to sleep. Meanwhile, my thoughts circle around what she’d admitted.

“I did not fall asleep,” she mumbles with a pout as she unlocks her front door. Jensen darts right past her, curious about the new place, but I don’t think she minds.

“Suuure,” I tease, as she rolls her eyes and turns back toward the door. She’d shoved the box with her sleeping kitten into my hands to dig for her key, and now she’s taking it back, heading into the living room.

“Have you thought of a name yet?”

“No,” she admits softly as she takes off her jacket and hangs it over the stair railing. “Sorry, the hook must have been offending to Chaos; she pushed it off, and I haven’t gotten around to putting it back. Make yourself at home.”

Nic walks off to where I assume her living room is, and I bite my lip to keep from chuckling when she almost runs into the do or frame. She’s not even trying to resist me being here anymore. She must be drained.

“Why?” I ask after shucking off my shoes and retrieving Jensen from the back door in her kitchen, where he was threatening bodily harm to a leaf outside.

She glances at me, but then returns to watching the kitten, her elbows propped up on the coffee table as she sits on the ground. Her head keeps dropping, and she hides a big yawn behind her hand.

“Look how cute she is,” she mumbles, lips stretching into a small smile. “So tiny. So precious. So quiet .”

“Come on, get on the couch and I’ll get her next meal ready.”

“I can—”

“I got it, Nic,” I say, a finality in my voice. She’s a pretty independent woman, I know that much, but what I don’t understand is her stubbornness accepting help. “Sit down.”

Nic stares at me as if she’s thinking about picking a fight, but ultimately, her shoulders relax as she gives in.

Good.

I find everything I need on the kitchen counter. When I make my way back to the living room, I freeze in the doorframe.

Nic is curled up on the couch, her head resting on my dog, who has made himself right at home on it, looking awfully comfortable. When I enter, he glances at me with an expression that says “shut the fuck up—she’s sleeping,” before he lays his head back down and closes his eyes, too.

I spot a blanket draped over the armchair and quietly set the bottle down. When I gently tuck the blanket around her, she stirs, and I hold my breath—but thankfully, her breathing evens out again almost right away.

“Yes, yes,” I whisper when the nameless kitten whimpers her complaints. “I know you’re hungry. I got you, little nameless one. ” I lift her to my chest, smiling when she immediately latches onto the bottle. “You’re a little fighter, aren’t you?”

Jensen’s eyes follow me as I walk to the far side of the room, softly cooing at the small animal in my hands. Thankfully, she quiets down as she’s eating. “You’ll be fine.”

My eyes wander across her home, taking everything in. I pace her living room while I feed the kitten. It’s a lovely house. It's homey yet has such a subtle luxury to it that I just know it was expensive as hell.

Her shelves are stacked with books and pictures. I step closer to one, trying to take a peek at them, before I freeze. When did I become someone who snoops while their host is asleep on the couch?

Then again, is it snooping if they’re all on display? Not really, right?

The photos are beautiful—all of her, some with Lauren—but I hardly recognize them. They’re almost unrecognizable: dressed in designer gowns, hair immaculately styled, their striking faces almost hidden beneath layers of makeup.

They’re cuter without it.

She’s cuter without it.

She doesn’t seem happy in those pictures either. Her smile is forced, and it doesn’t reach her eyes—and the way her eyes light up is truly my favorite thing about them.

But one thing confuses me.

All these pictures and they’re only of her? She never came across that vain to me. I get she wouldn’t exactly have pictures of her ex-fiancé or sister, but what about the rest of her family?

Of the pictures I have up at my own home, images I took over the years, there’s barely one of me. They’re of my mom and dad, of their pets, of Jensen Ackles, of nature, and of hikes we went on.

Whe n the kitten in my arms whines in protest, I tear myself away from the pictures and quickly leave the living room so that her cries won't wake Nic.

She deserves some proper sleep.

And it’s none of my business, really.

What is my business is the little creature right here, who I can already tell will be a menace once she’s older. A cute one, but a menace nonetheless.