Page 40 of Purrfectly Outfoxed
‘Bea’s probably making breakfast.’
‘Don’t care. Warm. Comfy.’She burrows deeper into my side.
I chuckle and run my fingers through her hair.‘We can’t hide in here all day.’
‘Watch me.’
‘What if she made more bacon?’
Her eyes pop open. “Bacon?”
“Probably. I smell it.”
She’s out of bed so fast I barely register the movement, grabbing her robe and cinching it tight. “Why didn’t you lead with bacon?”
“I tried the romantic approach first.”
“Bacon IS romantic.” She’s already at the door.
“Are you saying you love bacon more than you love me?”
She pauses, considering. “It’s close.”
“You’re terrible.”
“And you’re obsessed with me.” She blows me a kiss and disappears into the hallway.
I laugh and roll out of bed, pulling on the jeans I discarded last night. When I follow her downstairs, I find both women in the kitchen—Bea at the stove, Tabitha perched on a stool at the counter, already munching on a piece of bacon.
“Good morning, Jasper,” Bea says cheerfully, like yesterday didn’t happen. Like she didn’t discover her pets were actually people. “Eggs?”
“Please.” I slide onto the stool next to Tabitha and steal a piece of her bacon. She swats my hand but doesn’t stop me.
“I was thinking,” Bea says, cracking eggs into a pan, “we should probably discuss the logistics of our new living arrangement. I already told the neighbors you’re my niece from out of town and her husband, Tabitha. I hope that’s all right?”
“That’s perfect,” Tabitha says. “Thank you.”
“You’ll need to be careful about shifting, of course. Can’t have anyone seeing you change. And I was wondering if we should address where Whiskers and Sox went. Or would that not work since I imagine you’ll need to shift at some point?”
“We do need to shift,” I say. “So perhaps when people ask about them, we just say they’re wandering around somewhere. Animals like to hide. So, it wouldn’t be odd that they’re not always around for company. And I’m always happy to chase Tabitha around the backyard for show—as fox and cat, of course.”
Tabitha quirks an eyebrow at me, but Bea nods approvingly.
““That works. Now, about jobs. What are your skills?”
“I could do handyman work,” I offer. “I’ve been drifting for years, picking up odd jobs. I’m good with my hands.”
Tabitha snorts into her orange juice.
“What?” I give her an innocent look. “I am.”
“I know you are.”
Bea clears her throat, hiding a smile. “Yes, well. I’m sure we can find you plenty of work around town. Perhaps we could get cards made up so I can recommend you to my friends. And Tabitha, dear—what skills do you have?”
“I...uh. Not many, really. I mean, I like writing. But mostly I’ve just worked as a late-night gas station cashier or a housekeeping temp.” She glances at Bea. “That’s...kind of all I’m good at.”
“Nonsense,” Bea says, setting plates of eggs in front of us. “You’re bright as a whip, and anyone with eyes can see you’re organized and thoughtful. I’m sure we can come up with something.”