Sleet Kitten: Book One of the Sleet Series

“Squeeze Me?”

Kitten is reading the sign above the door I’m leading her toward. Her head is slightly tilted and there’s a small smile on her lips. I’m momentarily distracted by the things I want to do to those lips. But then her eyes connect with mine and I’m brought back to the present.

I focus on her question. “They have the best fresh-squeezed juice here, among other things. So… Squeeze Me.”

“If you say so.”

I stop to pull open the door for Kitten, but – before I reach the handle – she startles me by throwing her arms around my waist and squeezing me in a hug. And just like that, time stops. This is just a hug. It shouldn’t feel so intimate. I’ve had my fingers inside of her, yet this – this hug – feels so much more personal. And when I wrap my arms around her upper back, squeezing in return, I feel my heart crack a little.

I have been so cautious of women over the past two years, ever since Lacy fucked with my head. I haven’t let anyone in. I haven’t been celibate, but there haven’t been any girlfriends. No one that I’ve taken to lunch. Definitely no one who’s gotten me talking about my dad dying and my mama helping me through life. Tipping my head down, I rest my cheek next to the pompom on the top of Kitten’s head.

“I think you might have the same witchy powers that my mama has. Here I am spilling my secrets to you and we haven’t even had lunch yet.”

It’s not lost on me that I haven’t let go of her. We’ve been standing here, blocking the front door, for over a minute already.

“Thank you for sharing.” Her voice is muffled a bit by my body. “My life’s not nearly as exciting, but I promise to tell you whatever details you want to know.”

I squeeze her a little harder before letting go and opening the door.

The restaurant is small, so it’s not a shock that both of the workers behind the counter are staring at us, wide-eyed, having witnessed our little hug-a-thon.

“Jackson! What a wonderful surprise! I didn’t realize that was you out there.” The older woman comes shuffling around the counter as she talks. She has on a white-and-lavender apron that makes her look a little like Mrs. Potts. As always, she grabs my cheeks to pull me down for air kisses. Stepping back, she looks at Kitten. “And who is this beautiful young woman?” Without waiting for an answer she’s pulling Kitten in for the same treatment.

Kitten is not tall, so Marcy having to pull her down shows just how short the woman is.

“Marcy, this is Katelyn. Katelyn, this is Marcy. She owns Squeeze Me. She’s brilliant, and talented, and second only to my mama.”

Marcy beams. “Oh hush. You save your sweet-talking for your sweet girl here.” Waving back behind the counter, she shouts, “Brandon, get over here!”

A boy I haven’t met before comes toward us. He looks high school aged, thin as a whip, and a little bit scared. When he gets within reach, Marcy grabs him by the arm and introduces him to us.

“This is Brandon. Brandon, this is Jackson and Katelyn. If they’re ever in here when I’m not around, make sure to give them the best service possible.”

“Marcy, that’s hardly necessary.”

Kitten perks up. “Speak for yourself. I’ll gladly take the VIP treatment.” She winks at the older woman, gaining her a grin. And a blush from Brandon. My Kitten knows how to work a room.

Brandon reaches out a shaky hand to me. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Wilder.”

“Thanks, Brandon. If you do a good job working for Marcy here, I’ll drop off some tickets so you and your friends can come to a game.”

His eyes nearly pop out of his head, but before he can say anything Marcy shoos him away. “Enough chit chat, let’s get you two lovebirds fed.”

We follow her to a table and she hands Kitten a menu. “Jackson, I’m assuming you’ll have your usual.” I nod. “Now sweetie, if you aren’t stuck to eating the same things as our big handsome boy here, I will recommend our blueberry and hazelnut waffles. They’re served with real maple syrup and a dark chocolate drizzle. Some of my regulars say they’re better than sex.” Then she winks. “But those old biddies aren’t dating Jackson Wilder.”

“Marcy!” I feel an actual fucking blush creep up my neck.

She just snorts out a laugh and walks away.