When I said yes to Jake's offer, I totally forgot he didn't have a car. The only vehicle he had was a Ducati. The shiny yellow motorcycle was fairly new, so the chances of it breaking down in the middle of the road like my 15-year-old car were slim.
"Here you go." Jake offered me the spare helmet.
A ball of anxiety formed in my stomach as I stared at the polished bike. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea." I licked my dry lips. "What if it rains?"
"Don't worry, Shrimp. I've checked the weather forecast for tonight. It won't rain again."
Although the smell of rain lingered in the evening air, most of the clouds had dissipated. The sky was dark, but I could see the lovely moon peeking behind the remaining clouds. Jake was right; it probably wouldn't rain again tonight.
"Yeah, but the road's still wet," I argued. "Your bike might slip, and we might have an accident, and I certainly can't afford another trip to the—"
He cocked his head forward and narrowed his eyes at me, forcing me to pull my head back. "Is this your first time riding a bike?"
"No," I lied. "Of course, I've ridden bikes before."
"Bikes as in motorcycles?"
I avoided his gaze. "That's not the point. The point is this is dangerous—"
"Hey, wait a minute." His lips curved into a smirk and his eyes twinkled with challenge. "Are you scared?"
I drew a sharp breath. Scared, my butt. Pursing my lips together, I snatched the spare helmet from his hand and shoved it onto my head. As he let out a chuckle, I clicked the strap under my chin and climbed onto the pillion.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.
"Mm-hmm." My limbs trembled, but I held my head high and kept a straight face.
"Alright." He turned the key in the ignition.
As the engine roared to life, I flinched. This is a terrible idea.
"If it makes you feel any better," he shouted over the loud noise, "I've only gotten into a motorcycle crash once. And that wasn't even my fault. Some jackass sped past the red light and hit me. I got a few stitches and had to spend months in crutches after that, but—" As my jaw dropped wide open in horror, he let out an awkward laugh. "Don't worry. I haven't gotten into a single accident after that."
I frowned at him. "That's not reassuring at all."
"I'll be super careful. I promise." There was something in his eyes that managed to calm my nerves.
Releasing a slow breath, I dragged myself closer to him. As I slowly wrapped my arms around his waist, my pulse began to race.
It was the nerves talking.
It had to be.
"Ready?" He looked over his shoulder at me.
I lifted my hand and gave him a thumbs-up.
"Hold on tight." He leaned forward and kicked the bike into gear.
As the bike began to move, I tightened my grip around him. This is going to be one hell of a Friday night.
***
"So you just dragged me out of my apartment to buy food for Princess Tortie?"
I scanned the various cans of cat food on the shelves. I had no idea there were so many different kinds of cat food and treats. Or that there were cat food sold at twice the price of my breakfast, lunch, and dinner combined. Or that 10-year-old cats like Princess Tortie weren't considered a senior cat yet.
Well, I guess you learn something new every day.
"These aren't just for Princess Tortie." Jake tossed different kinds of canned cat food, including ten cans of Cat Royale's Delicious Paté for Adult Cats and ten cans of Gourmet Loaf with Goat Milk for Kitten, into the shopping basket.
"Wow. That's a lot of canned cat food." As Jake grabbed a jar filled with fifty tubes of creamy cat treats, I continued, "And cat treats."
"You should see the stuff I buy here on the first of every month," he replied, his eyes glittering with excitement.
Once his shopping basket was full, we went to the cashier to pay for the goods. While helping him cram the pet food into his backpack, I asked, "Why are you buying food for kittens? Princess Tortie isn't pregnant, is she?"
"Nah, she's spayed. She can't have any more kittens."
He didn't answer my first question, and I had a feeling he wasn't going to. Even so, I had a few ideas about where we were going next. Judging by the amount of cat food he'd bought, he probably would take me to feed stray cats like his grandma had used to do, or visit an animal rescue center to persuade me to adopt a cat, or maybe visit one of his friends whose cat had just given birth to a litter of kittens.
About twenty minutes after we'd left the pet store, we pulled up outside a brown-painted house with a gated backyard in Castle Heights. The carved wooden sign hanging from the post on the front lawn read PURREVER HOME, decorated with small, white paws around the words, and a smaller sign below it said ADOPTIONS THIS WAY with an arrow pointing to the house.
I smirked. Oh, Goldilocks. You're so predictable.
"Isn't it a little too late to visit an animal rescue center?" I asked as we walked to the front door. "I'm pretty sure they're closed."
"It's okay." He pressed the bell next to the front door. "I've called earlier to let them know we're coming."
A moment later, a woman in her mid-twenties opened the door. The tall woman had a beauty mark above her lip and long, dark hair that was tied in a simple ponytail. I recognized her as the pet food taster photographed with Jake in one of his TweetyGram posts.
The woman's thin lips curved into a smile. "Hi, I've been waiting for you."
"Hey." Holding up his bag, Jake said, "Bought something for the guys."
"Oh, thanks. Come on in." The woman stepped aside to make way for us to enter. As I followed Jake into the house, she teased, "So, who's your friend here?"
"Mabel, Lindsey. Lindsey, Mabel."
"Hi," I greeted her with a smile and extended a hand to her.
"Hi." She returned the gesture with a friendly shake. "It's nice to finally meet you, Lindsey. Jake has told me so much about—"
Jake cleared his throat. "So, where's everyone?"
"They're in the playroom. I just finished feeding them, and you know how they get when their bellies are full." Mabel led us past rooms labeled Grooming Room, Exam Room, Nursery Room, and Cat Room #1 to #3. "Oh, and good news. Your friends just finished up Lola's adoption papers. They're going to pick her up tomorrow, so if you want to say goodbye, now would be a great time."
"Right." Jake nodded.
Mabel stopped in front of the room marked Playroom and turned to look at me. "Some of these guys tend to get a little too excited after dinner. Don't let that scare you, okay?"
Why does she make it sound like I'm about to step into a jungle?
Anxiety tingled the back of my neck, but I suppressed it. "Of course."
Mabel opened the door and revealed a large room that was the very definition of a cat heaven. While some of the cats relaxed on the shelves and stairs mounted along the wall, some played a game of chase, running in and out of the various tunnels at the center of the room. A one-eyed cat sharpened its front claws on a scratching post shaped like a large tree in the corner of the room while three fluffy kittens played with the toy ball dangling from a cactus-shaped scratching post on the other side of the room.
The playroom reminded me of Jake's apartment, only thrice as big and filled with about thirty cats or so.
While I was too stunned to even blink, a gray tabby cat approached Jake.
"Lola, hey." Jake crouched and petted the shorthaired cat, who quickly closed her eyes and purred. "Oh, I'm gonna miss you too. Be good at your new home, alright? Don't worry. They're some of the best humans I've ever met. And I'm gonna come and visit you to make sure they treat you like the princess you are."
"Jake has been helping us find homes for these cats," Mabel explained. "And he's amazingly good at it. He's found homes for thirty cats over the last six months alone."
"That sounds like Jake. He's always had the talent to hypnotize people into doing what he wants," I joked.
Mabel chuckled. "Are you planning on adopting a paw friend too?"
"Oh, I—"
"I'm trying to get her to adopt one," Jake interrupted.
"I know," I replied. "You're so predictable, you know that?"
As Jake and I engaged in a grinning battle, Mabel cleared her throat. "So, my husband's out on an emergency house call—he's a vet—and Bitsy and Esme, our only staff, got knocked out by the flu. I'm a little shorthanded tonight. Would you two mind looking after the guys for a while? I need to take care of the newborns."
"Sure," Jake and I replied in unison.
"Great." Mabel flashed us a thank-you smile before leaving the room.
"So." I switched my gaze to Jake, who was walking toward the box of cat toys in the corner of the room. "The other night you were on the phone with your friend, it was to discuss cat adoption?"
"Yeah. What do you think I was talking about?"
I shrugged. "Something shady?"
Jake shook his head and laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling adorably. "Like Mabel said, I've been helping her and Pete find forever homes for the cats here. This is where I found Princess Tortie, actually. Mabel put her promotional adoption video on TweetyGram, and I just fell in love with her instantly." He looked over his shoulder at me. "With Princess Tortie, I mean."
I chortled. "I guess TweetyGram has its positive sides after all, huh?"
"Yep. Like I said. It's not all—"
An orange kitten brushed against my leg and stared up at me, its pom-pom-like tail quivering.
"Oh, hello there." Smiling, I bent over and placed my hands on my knees. "What's your name?"
"Prince Gingy! My boy!" Jake opened his arms wide, and the kitten scurried toward him.
I choked back a laugh. "You were the one who named him, weren't you?"
"Uh-huh." Jake scooped Prince Gingy into his arms and scratched the little guy's head. "I found him on the highway a few months ago when he was just about four weeks old. Some jerk dumped him and his sisters in a box on the side of the road and left them there to die."
"Oh, my God. That's awful."
"Yeah." He pulled his mouth into a tight line and clenched his jaw, his hand stroking the purring cat's back. "They were lucky this little guy was brave enough to run to the middle of the road to get help. God knows what would've happened to them if he hadn't done so."
"Wow. Sounds like he's a tough cookie, huh?"
"He is." Pride shone in Jake's eyes as he gazed at the cat in his arms. "His sisters have found their forever home, but this guy's a bit too energetic for most people."
I found the bond between the two adorable, and I couldn't help but smile at that. "Why don't you just adopt him then?"
"Unfortunately, with my current financial condition, I can only afford to adopt one cat. But . . ." Jake shifted his gaze to me, a familiar sparkle in his eyes. "Prince Gingy's up for adoption if you're interested. He's neutered, by the way, so you don't have to worry about him spraying around the house or anything. He does love playing with other cats, though, so you—or Bree—might want to consider adopting a furry friend or two for him so he doesn't get bored," he concluded with a salesman's grin.
I chuckled. "I'll think about it."
"Alright." Jake lowered Prince Gingy to the ground. "Just don't take too long. Or else someone else might adopt him first."
Growing up, I'd always wanted a dog or a cat. But since Mom was allergic to animal fur, she only allowed me to keep goldfish for a pet. But for some reason, my goldfish kept dying after a short time. After my third goldfish died, I decided I was a terrible pet parent and swore I'd never adopt a pet ever again.
Still, Prince Gingy's compelling personality, combined with Jake's pitch, made me reconsider my decision.
We spent the next hour playing with the cats, and I got a few scratches as a souvenir, which was 100% my fault as I was still learning how to properly pet a cat. By the time we left Purrever Home, I was grinning and bouncing with glee.
"Alright. Where to now?"
"That's the spirit!" Jake clapped his hands, earning a hearty laugh from me. Straddling his motorcycle, he handed me the spare helmet. "Come on."
"You're not gonna tell me where we're going, are you?"
"Nope." His phone lit up as he texted someone. "It's a surprise."
***
My heart still picked up its pace when Jake kicked the bike into gear. But as we rode the motorcycle across the city, the combination of the evening breeze caressing my skin and the warmth of Jake's back against my chest calmed me down. The hum of the Ducati and the whooshing sound of the wind were like music I didn't know I'd enjoy.
Somehow, I no longer cared how more than 80,000 motorcycle accidents occurred in the States each year. I had no idea why, but I felt safe.
At least until we turned into a dark alley and slowed down.
The street light near the main street flickered, and the small lamps perched on the walls of the two buildings sandwiching the narrow alley only provided dim lighting. As Jake pulled up next to a dumpster, I scrunched up my nose at the terrible smell of trash.
He's not asking me to dumpster-dive in the middle of the night, is he?
"Why are we here? I'm warning you. I bring my pepper spray," I joked.
He laughed, taking off his helmet. "Wait here."
He got off the Ducati, pulled out his phone from his pocket, and shot someone a text, perhaps the same person he'd texted earlier. Moments later, the door near the dumpster opened. The light from inside the building spilled out, illuminating the alley. Judging from the symphony of loud clanking noises of kitchen utensils, the occasional beeping of an alarm, and the sizzling sound of oil, I'd say the building was a fast-food restaurant.
A dark-haired man with striking cheekbones stepped out of the building with a paper bag in his hand. He wore a green shirt, black trousers, and a black apron with Greedy's logo at the center, but his strong features and ripped physique led me to believe he was one of Jake's underwear model friends.
"Here you go." The man handed the paper bag to Jake. "It's fifteen bucks, so that means now I only owe you seventy-five, right?"
"Dude, you owed me a hundred bucks," Jake replied, a note of annoyance in his voice. "That means now you still owe me eighty-five bucks."
"Oh, right." The man let out an awkward laugh. "Hey, we still up for tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Of course."
As Jake climbed onto the motorcycle, the man in the black apron waved at me and grinned, his pearly whites on display.
I cringed a little at his strange behavior, but I forced myself to return the friendly gesture. The moment the creepy man closed the door, my gaze darted to the paper bag in Jake's hand. "What's that?"
"Food."
I gave him the side-eye. "Fine. Don't tell me. I don't want to know anyway."
To be honest, I found myself enjoying the thrill of not knowing everything. I had no idea what was in the bag or where Jake was taking me. But wherever it was, I had a strong feeling the fun was just beginning.
Author's Note:
So, thoughts about their date so far?
What do you think is in the bag? 👀
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and as always, if you do, please show some support by voting and/or leaving a comment. Thanks for reading!