Page 38 of Purrfectly Outfoxed
Jasper grins. “It’s not really science fiction. More like magical realism. Urban fantasy, if you want to get technical?—”
“Shut up,” I whisper, jabbing him in the ribs, and he yelps slightly, but not enough to break character.
Bea cackles into her tea. “You sound just like the books. I know that’s all fiction. But it seems there’s some grain of truth. Otherwise, how could they write all those love scenes with such realism? Especially that knotting thing.”
I almost gag on my tea. Jasper covers it with a coughing fit and discreetly pours himself more whiskey.
“So, when did you first know?”
“That we were shifters?” I ask. “We were born like this.”
“Oh no. Not the shifter part. When did you know you were fated mates?”
I hesitate. Jasper, of course, does not. “First night. I smelled her, and it was a done deal.”
Bea raises an eyebrow. “And you, Tabitha?”
I trace a swirl in the condensation on my mug. “I knew when... Well, I guess I knew the first time he got under my fur. He was”—I glare sideways at him— “unbearably persistent.”
“That’s the fox in me,” he says, proud as a child waving an honor roll certificate.
Bea laughs again, softer this time, more herself. “Well. As long as you aren’t planning to eat my canary or burn down my garage, I suppose it’s fine. My Harold always said, ‘Everyone has something to hide.’” She lifts her mug like she’s making a toast.
I flush, relaxing by degrees. Bea isn’t mad. She isn’t even rattled or fazed upon learning fox and cat shifters exist. She got through her initial shock, and now she’s just…delighted.
‘Do you think we broke her?’I ask Jasper.
He lifts his mug and sips while he sends back his answer.‘She seems cool with this. I say we call it a win and don’t question it.’
I look back to Bea, and suddenly I see her as a whole person, not just the lonely old lady who saved me from the shelter. Bea lost her family, lost her Harold, built this sanctuary out of habit and heartache—and in return, fate gave her a shape-shifting tabby and a stray fox with a taste for poultry and drama.
For a second, I’m overwhelmed. Not by shame, or anger, but by a gratitude so raw I have to look away. Bea clears her throat, softer this time, and pours a little more whiskey into her tea.
“Don’t worry,” she says, as if reading my mind. “Your secret’s safe with me. Who would believe an old biddy like me, anyway? Half my bridge club already suspects I’m losing my marbles. If I start telling them my pets can talk to me, they’ll send the men with the white coats after me.” She pauses then, a slight furrow dipping her brow as she wraps her hands around her mug. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and I want honest answers. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” I say immediately.
“Good. First question: Do you have anywhere else to go? Either of you?”
I shake my head. “No. This is my only home.”
“I’ve been drifting for years,” Jasper admits. “I have no family, no pack. Until I met Tabitha, I had nothing.”
“Second question: Are you dangerous? Will you hurt me or anyone else?”
“Never,” I say fiercely. “Bea, I would never?—”
“I know. I just needed to hear you say it.” She sips her tea. “Third question: Can you pay rent?”
I blink. “Rent?”
“Well, you can’t keep pretending to be pets now that I know the truth. That would be ridiculous. So if you’re going to stay, we need to establish some ground rules—and a good cover story. Like Tabitha is my niece from out of town, and you’re her husband. Times are tough, and you’re living with me as a way to help us all get by. Now, you’ll need to contribute. Get jobs. Pay your share. Be actual housemates instead of animals I feed for free.”
“You want us to stay?” I ask, hardly daring to believe it.
“Of course I want you to stay!” Bea reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Tabitha, you’ve been my companion for two years. You’ve made this house feel less empty. And Jasper—well, you make her happy. Which means you’re welcome here too.”
“Even after—” Jasper gestures vaguely toward the living room.