Page 24

‘It’s okay.’ Eden set the mug down on the island counter. ‘I have so much respect for single mums, Mick. My mum was one, and it’s hard not having a backup.’

Mick sat and up reached for her tea. ‘I appreciate you saying that, but I have more support than most, Eden. Troyden, my brothers, Justin. I feel like a fraud for complaining.’

No, it was still hard, because she carried all the responsibility. ‘I remember reading somewhere that when you give birth, a vacuum is created, and guilt is sucked back in.’

Mick laughed, finally. ‘That’s it, exactly.’ She sipped, closed her eyes and sipped again. ‘I needed this. Do you want kids?’

Eden’s eyes widened at the question. She’d never had anyone ask her that before. She nodded. ‘I do. Not now, but sometime, I guess. I’d like to be the centre of someone’s world.’

‘Are you talking about a man or a kid?’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Both. I was never my mum’s priority, her first choice, so I guess I’d like to be that to someone.’

Mick’s sympathetic eyes met hers. ‘Losing her to the Church was horrible, right?’

She nodded. ‘When she became a novice nun, I was still her daughter; we could still communicate; I could visit her, call her my mum. But when she became cloistered, she made the conscious choice to choose the Church, or God, over me. To leave me behind, to renounce me. That was’—she touched the tip of her tongue to her top lip—‘tough.’

‘Tough as in soul-stripping and devastating?’ Mick softly asked.

She dipped her head and blinked rapidly. ‘Basically.’

She’d never told anyone, not even the Bancrofts, how much it hurt, about the tears she’d shed, the long nights she’d lain awake running through her life, trying to figure out if she could’ve done anything different that would’ve made her mum choose her, choose being a mum, choose a life with her.

Judging by the way Mick reached for her hand and squeezed, she understood.

Man, talking to Mick was far better than talking to a psychologist.

Gemma strolling into the kitchen pulled Eden back to the present, and she was grateful. Mick stood and took a few hasty sips of her tea. ‘Gem, give the cat to Eden and let’s go.’

Gemma narrowed her eyes. ‘The cat’s name is Bizzy,’ she stated, her tone as pointed as the tip of a dagger.

Alrighty then. Eden held her hands out for the kitten, Gemma reluctantly handed it over and placed tiny fists on her hips.

‘You can’t give Bizzy milk; she’ll get a tummy ache.

And you need to remind her where her litter tray is; it’s in the mudroom.

You need to give her lots of cuddles, and she likes Taylor’s music. ’

As did everyone. Eden tried not to smile.

‘And you cannot let her out!’ Gemma said, raising her voice to near shouty levels. Okay, got it, don’t let the cat out. Keep her eyes on the cat. Do not lose the cat. She could do this. She had to, or else Gemma would ram a stake through her heart.

‘For God’s sake, Gemma, Eden knows how to look after a cat,’ Mick said, picking up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. ‘Help yourself to coffee, or wine, or anything. The TV remote is somewhere. You’ll need to hunt for it because Liam thinks it’s funny to hide it.’

Mick opened the front door. ‘Thanks, Eden, I appreciate this, really.’

Eden smiled when Gemma dropped a kiss on Bizzy’s tiny head and rubbed its ear with her finger. Her eyes held all the fervour of a fundamentalist preacher, and her chin all the stubbornness of a millennia-old glacier. ‘Do not lose my cat.’

Ten-four, ma’am!

* * *

Eden lost the friggin’ cat.

She’d carried Bizzy around for twenty minutes, and when it wriggled, she’d put it down to let it explore.

Instead of running off, it stayed next to her, weaving in and out her feet, and she had to take mincing steps to avoid accidentally stepping on it.

Thinking that she needed some coffee, she took the magazine she’d found under a pile of medical journals to the equally chaotic kitchen, the kitten trotting behind her.

Eden winced at the pile of dishes in the sink. The kitchen was a mess, but she couldn’t judge Mick; there weren’t enough hours in the day to work, look after the kids, do laundry and clean. Finally, she’d found something she could do for Mick, a way to be useful.

She’d tidy her kitchen. Eden quickly filled the dishwasher, put the condiments away, added more cups and glasses to the dishwasher and swept the floor.

The kitchen instantly looked bigger and brighter.

She’d reward herself with that coffee after all.

She found some instant granules in the cupboard above the kettle.

After wiping down the surfaces, she boiled the kettle and opened the fridge to grab the milk, poured some into her mug, and waited for the kettle to boil.

Returning the milk to the fridge, she kicked the door shut with the back of her heel.

She finished her coffee while reading a short story in the magazine, then remembered she was here to babysit a kitten. She looked down. Mm, no kitten.

Bugger, it had high-stepped away while she’d been reading. But she wasn’t too worried, Mick assured her she’d closed all the windows, and the kitten couldn’t get out.

She flipped through the magazine for a few more minutes and wrinkled her nose, uncomfortable with not knowing where her temporary charge was.

Getting up, she placed her cup in the dishwasher and checked the mudroom, peaking behind the washer and dryer to check that the kitten hadn’t fallen asleep there. Nope.

‘ Psssppsssppp , Bizzy, Bizzy,’ she crooned, walking into the lounge.

Eden looked under the couch and chairs, behind the curtains, lifted the cushions on the couches and checked behind the TV console and under the coffee table.

Starting to become mildly concerned, her ‘ pssssps ’ became louder and more frantic.

There was no way she could’ve lost the damn thing, it was here… somewhere.

A half-hour later she had to admit that, dammit, she’d lost the kitten. In a house with closed windows.

How? And why was this happening to her? And God, she didn’t want to die, not at the hand of a pissed off, desolate six-year-old.

Eden stood in the lounge and lifted her hands to her face, not sure where else she could look. What the hell was she going to do? Panic licked the back of her throat, but she forced herself to think. She had an hour before Mick and the kids were due home, sixty minutes to find the tiny cat…

It would be easier if she had some help.

Remembering the list of phone numbers she’d seen on Mick’s fridge, she half-jogged back into the kitchen and saw Jed’s number at the top of a list of emergency numbers. Right, if he was Mick’s first port of call, he could be hers too. She rocked from foot to foot as she waited for him to answer.

‘Eden? Everything okay?’

He’d recognised her number which meant that he had to have her number in his phone… Why? But that wasn’t important now. ‘Jed, I need your help.’

‘Are you hurt?’ he demanded, tension in his voice.

‘No,’ she quickly replied. Though she might be if she didn’t find Bizzy before Gemma returned.

‘Okay, what’s the problem?’ Jed calmly asked.

Eden explained, and Jed chuckled. ‘It’s not funny, Jed! I can’t find her.’

‘And are you sure the doors and windows are closed?’ he asked.

‘No, I never thought to check that,’ Eden sarcastically replied. ‘Of course they are!’

‘Then she has to be somewhere.’

‘I’ve been looking for her for the past hour and I can’t find her!’

‘I thought the kitten was a he,’ Jed mused.

‘Jed! Concentrate! The kitten is missing ,’ she reiterated. ‘And I need you to come and help me find her.’

‘You just don’t want to explain to Gemma that the kitten is hiding from you,’ he said, laughter in his voice. ‘You’re scared of a six-year-old.’

‘She was channelling Chucky when she told me not to lose her,’ Eden admitted. ‘Are you going to come help me, or not?’

‘I can be there in five minutes,’ he told her. ‘But I’m in my riding gear and have been working with horses all day, so I might trigger your allergy.’

She so didn’t care. She’d lost a little girl’s kitten. And that was far more important than her skin erupting and her throat closing. ‘Just get here,’ she told Jed, now feeling frantic.

She was the worst babysitter in the world. And if she lost Gemma’s cat, then an allergy was the least she deserved.

But where the hell could it have gone?

* * *

‘You’ve lost the cat,’ Jed stated. He stood in the middle of Mick’s lounge and placed his hands on his hips.

No shit, Sherlock. Eden glared at him and stomped into the kitchen. ‘But how, Jed? It didn’t just disappear!’

He rubbed the back of his head, looking genuinely confused. ‘I have no bloody idea, Eden.’

Great. She had ten minutes, maybe even less, before she had to explain to a six-year-old, and her mother, that she’d lost the newest member of their family. After this, the extended Castle family, and everyone at Elmsleigh House, would excommunicate her. A public execution, if Gemma had her way.

How was she going to explain this? Was there an explanation? Did aliens beam it up?

‘I think we need a drink,’ Jed said, looking hot, flustered and confused. She nodded, brushed past him to head for the kitchen and sneezed. And sneezed again. And her eyes started to water.

Jed joined her in the kitchen, washed his hands in the sink before reaching for her hand and turned her palm over to look at her wrist and her arm. ‘No hives?’

She shook her head. ‘No, nothing so far. You make me sneeze and my eyes water, but I think the antihistamines and exposing myself to horses, even if it’s just watching them from a distance, are helping to desensitise me. But I’m still too scared to venture into a stable.’

‘So, no hot sex in the straw then?’ he asked.

Oh, damn, there was a visual she could get behind. Him bare-chested, shirt open, and the buttons on his jeans undone. Her legs locked around his hips, panties pushed to the side, perfectly positioned to…

Not the time. Or the place.

Jed pulled a whisky bottle from a cupboard and held up the bottle, silently asking if she wanted a belt.

She was tempted, but she owed it to Gemma, and Mick, not to be tipsy when she told them she’d lost Bizzy.

But she could have a slug of wine. She’d seen a half-full bottle in the fridge when she’d made coffee earlier.

Eden yanked open the fridge, felt something brush against her ankle and she leaped a foot in the air. As the sound of a car rumbled in the distance, she looked down and saw Bizzy snuggling up to her ankle looking a little sorry for himself. Herself?

‘Holy shit!’ she yelled, scooping the cat up and plastering it against her chest.

‘What?’ Jed looked up, his eyes widening as he saw the cat in her arms. ‘Where the hell did he come from?’

Eden snapped her mouth closed, barely able to get the words out.

‘He was in the bloody fridge!’ she hissed, conscious of the tiny, cold body purring against her chest. Jed was bigger and hotter and emitted far more heat than she did. In one fluid movement, she yanked up his shirt and shoved Bizzy against his chest.

‘Warm her up, for God’s sake!’ she said, hearing Mick’s car slide into her parking space behind the garage.

Jed’s hand covered Bizzy, and he rubbed her briskly. ‘Dammit, close call. How did he get in the fridge?’ he hissed, as car doors slammed.

‘He must’ve jumped in while I was making myself a coffee,’ Eden whispered. ‘I always leave the fridge door open; it’s a bad habit of mine.’

Jed started to smile, then laugh. His body shook with it, and Eden joined in, hers born out of relief. ‘Would he have frozen in there?’ she whispered, hearing Gemma and Liam’s voices as they ran up the path to the front door.

Jed shook his head. ‘Nah, no chance, and he’s fine. A bit cold, but fine.’

The door opened and Gemma raced into the kitchen, looking around for Bizzy. Her eyes locked on to Eden’s face, and she placed her hands on her hips. ‘Where’s my kitten? Why aren’t you cuddling her?’

Wow. Okay, then. Eden hauled in a deep breath and gestured to Jed.

‘Jed is cuddling her,’ she said, pointing to the bump beneath Jed’s polo shirt.

Please, please, she silently begged, let the cat be warm enough not to raise Gemma’s suspicions.

Seeing the fridge door was still open, Eden kicked it closed with her foot.

Then she opened it again, just to make sure, ignoring Jed’s snort.

Gemma stomped over to Jed, shoved her hand under his shirt and took the kitten from him. Eden held her breath and so, she noticed, did Jed. Gemma lifted the kitten to her face and kissed her nose. She frowned. ‘Why is his nose cold?’ she demanded.

Eden looked at Jed, who gripped the counter with his hands, his shoulders shaking with laughter. ‘Ah, that’s because he’s the most chilled cat in the world,’ he stated.

Haha, not funny. Eden glowered at him, and he grinned at her.

They both watched Gemma cuddle her cat, and she asked him how he was, whether Eden had been a good babysitter and whether he was, God of all things, satisfied with her service.

If cats could write online reviews, she would get negative five stars for shocking service.

Eden reached behind Jed, swiped the whisky bottle off the counter and took a big sip. She took another and turned as Mick came through the door, carrying Liam who looked a little flushed. She handed them a tired smile. ‘Hey, all good?’ she asked.

‘All good,’ Eden said, taking another hit of whisky.

At some point, she’d have to explain to Mick why she’d turned her house upside down and pawed through her drawers and cupboards, and she hoped Mick would understand.

She didn’t have that many friends that she could afford to alienate the ones she had.

‘Liar,’ Jed muttered.

‘Sounds like there’s a story there,’ Mick said, placing Liam on his feet.

She had no bloody idea.