Then she was strutting down the alley, a simple gold purse hanging from her hand. “Good luck on taking over the business, Pete. I think you’ll be great. You’re definitely smarter than your old man ever was.”

Then she was gone. And all that heavy French food came flying right back up.

Sissy pushed her car to its limits as she tore through Smithtown trying to get home and get Mitch into bed…or on the floor…or anywhere she could get him.

Once she made up her mind, Sissy didn’t waffle. She didn’t agonize over her decision. Or question if she was doing the right thing. Who had time for that? Plus, her body was making demands she needed to fulfill or die trying.

She slammed to a stop in front of her parents’ house. Mitch unleashed his grip on the dashboard and relaxed back in the seat.

Sissy didn’t know how long they were sitting there, but she finally turned in the seat to face him. “Is there a reason we’re still sitting here?”

“Uh…I didn’t want to rush you.”

Sissy shoved his shoulder with both hands. “Out! Now!”

Laughing, Mitch got out on his side, and Sissy snatched the key from the ignition and quickly pushed the driver’s side door open. Together, they headed up the porch steps. But when Sissy hit that top step, pain slammed through her foot, and she howled, immediately hopping on one leg while she grabbed her wounded foot.

“What’s wrong?”

“Splinters!”

Mitch put his hands on his hips. “You’re fucking with me right now, aren’t you?”

Sissy leaned back against the porch rail and held her foot up to his face. “Splinters!” she yelled again.

“Damn. Those are splinters.” Mitch gazed into her face. “Of course, if you insist on walking around barefoot—”

“No one in Smithtown wears shoes in the summertime.”

“Is that a law?”

Sissy growled and started to hop into the house, but Mitch grabbed her under the knees and lifted her up. He only held her by her legs, though, and her head dangled dangerously close to the floor. She squealed, and Mitch gave her a shake.

“Stop the whining. You need to toughen up.”

Without unleashing her fangs, Sissy bit the back of his leg.

“Do that again,” he playfully warned, “and I’m dropping you on your head. Now simmer down.”

Mitch took her into the family room and dropped her on the couch in front of the TV. Sissy started to sit up, but Mitch pushed her back down by her forehead. She started swiping at him, and he batted at her hands while they kept their faces turned away from each other.

When he got bored with that, he said, “Lie down and be quiet. Mr. Kitty is going to make you feel all better.”

Sissy stopped struggling. “Thatsounds creepy—and wrong.”

Mitch grabbed a blanket from another chair and began to pull it over her body.

“It’s ninety degrees outside. I don’t need—”

The blanket covered her face, and Sissy growled. Then he tucked the blanket tightly into the couch cushions so Sissy was temporarily trapped. She had to kick and fight to get the damn blanket off her, and by then, Mitch was back with the first aid kit from the first floor bathroom.

She reached for her foot. “I can do this—”

“No.” He slapped her hands away and lifted up her legs so he could sit on the couch. Then he dropped her legs back onto his lap.

“Okay. Let’s see what we’ve got.” He lifted up her foot and said, “Well, what we’ve got here is a freakin’ boat.”

“Really?” She slammed her heel against the side of his face, snapping his head to one side. “How big are they now, Mitch?”

Rubbing the abused side of his face, “Dainty little elf feet?”

“Exactly.”

Sissy bit the inside of her mouth to stop from smiling. She didn’t know what it was about him, but the boy did have a way. She’d never really thought of felines as goofy, but Mitch was definitely goofy.

“Is amputation out here? ’Cause we don’t want it to get infected.”

“Mitchell…”

“Okay. Okay. No need to get testy. It was just one of the many options.” He pulled tweezers out of the kit and lifted her foot again, studying it closely. “It’s in kind of deep, so this will probably not be real pleasant.”

“Have you met my mother?” Sissy asked. “I put my arm through a window once, and that woman just yanked—owwww!”

“Done.” Mitch held up the trio of splinters.

Glaring, Sissy reached for her foot again, and again he slapped her hands away. “Those hands are unclean.”

“I washed them at the club. And is the iodine really necessary?” she demanded as he poured some on a cotton ball. “Isn’t there something in there with pain reliever already included?”

“I’m sure there is.” He slapped the iodine-doused cotton ball against her foot. “But I prefer this,” he said over her yelp.

Once cleaned and wrapped in a small bandage, Mitch dropped her foot back on his lap. “There. All done. Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Not if you’re Dr. Mengele,” she muttered.

“I hear that whining again.”

Sissy let out a little growl before the pair fell silent, everything suddenly very awkward.

Mitch gave a small shrug. “Guess after all that, the mood’s kinda broken, huh?”