Sleet Kitten: Book One of the Sleet Series

Coming here may have been a mistake. Sitting with Kitten, watching her slowly eat her dripping waffles, moaning over nearly every bite, licking syrup off her lips… is horrible, glorious torture. I’m gonna need a cold shower. Or just an ice pack to set on my junk so I can walk out of here without tenting my pants. Seriously, this girl has me feeling like I’m fifteen years old again. I’m going to have to fight off an erection every time I come here to eat. It’ll be impossible for me to enjoy my oatmeal when I’m picturing Kitten’s erotic waffle play.

Who am I kidding, it’s entirely worth it. 

Lunch was a great break after the heavy family talk we had in the car. We’ve mostly discussed our favorite foods and the best restaurants in the Cities. Kitten is like me and will eat just about anything, only she’s actually allowed to eat the good stuff all year ’round. I’ll just have to live vicariously through her, watching her savor my favorite things while I sit, aroused, on the other side of the table. Poor, poor, me.

As much as I want to ask her to order seconds, just so I can keep perving at her, we need to get going to our next destination. Rising, I take Kitten’s coat off the back of her chair and help her into it. Plucking her hat out of her pocket, I pull it down onto her head, giving it a little wiggle to make sure it’s on tight.

She laughs and swats at my hands. “I think you got it.”

“Just making sure. You’re going to need it for our next stop.”

She quirks an eyebrow at me. “Oh yeah? And just how many stops are there today?”

“Hmmm, I’m not sure.”

“Uh-huh.” She’s not buying it.

We both wave goodbye to Marcy as she calls out for Kitten to return anytime. Back in the car, I turn the engine on and pull away from the curb. I make a mental note to keep my attention on the road and not on the pretty woman sitting next to me.

“We have about twenty minutes before we hit our destination. Think you can spill your entire life story, like I did, in that amount of time?”

Kitten chuckles and then bobs her head side to side as if she’s calculating the answer. I hope she does tell me, and that she finds me as easy to talk to as I find her. 

I’m beginning to wonder if maybe I pushed her too much by asking, but then she starts. “I’ve been really lucky. I haven’t had many hardships in my life. I’ve always lived in Minnesota. Grew up in a suburb, just north of the Cities. My parents still live in the house I grew up in. I’m sure they’ll eventually sell and downsize, but I enjoy the nostalgia when I visit.”

“Is your room still the same as it was when you moved out?”

She chuckles. “I wish. My childhood crap is packed away in boxes somewhere. Once I rented a place of my own after college, my parents turned the kids’ bedrooms into guest rooms. Mine had been fairly tame, but I bet my brother’s room needed to be steam cleaned in order to get that nasty boy smell out.”

“We are a gross breed,” I hum.

“Truth,” she agrees. 

“My dad’s an electrician. By the time I was in high school, he had his own company. Now it’s mostly just him, doing odd jobs for his long-time customers. He loves it and it keeps him busy. My mom’s an English professor at the University of Minnesota. She was a student there, and I think she started working there right after graduating. So, of course, that’s where I went to school.”

“For writing, right?”

“Yeah, creative writing. Even though our house was only about thirty minutes away, I still opted for the full college experience of living on campus. Meghan went to the U as well, but we agreed to have random dorm roommates our first year, just to see what would happen. Needless to say, by our second year we decided to rent a house with some friends. I worked at a cute little coffee shop near campus; it was fun and gave me some spending money. Alex went to a school a few hours south. Even though he was following in our mom’s footsteps, wanting to be a teacher, he wanted a little more distance between himself and parental supervision.”

“Do you two get along pretty well? I know he tormented you some in your youth, but now that you’re both adults, and mature, are you friends?”

“Saying Alex is mature is a stretch. But yes, aside from his barbarism at a young age, we’ve always gotten along. When I needed someone to talk to, he would be there for me, and vice versa. He’s back in the area now, teaching, so I see him for family stuff. Occasionally we’ll grab a drink together when we both have a free night. He’s still a bit of a player, or at least as much of a player as a fourth-grade teacher can be, so he stays busy. I think once he meets a nice girl, as my mom would put it, I’ll see more of him.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to like Alex.”

“I’ve warned you about his Sleet obsession. Honestly, I’m a bit surprised he hasn’t called me yet, freaking out about those videos.”

I feel myself wince.. “I’m sorry about that. I know you didn’t ask for any of this to happen and I’ve just kinda thrust you into the limelight.”

“Apology not accepted.” Her words make me dart a glance her way, but I can see that she’s smiling. “As in, apology not necessary. You couldn’t have known I’d end up on the Kiss Cam with some douchebag.”

“Fair. But I didn’t have to make such a scene scaring him away from you.”

“But I’m glad you did.”

“But I didn’t have to make such a scene kissing you after the game.”

Kitten reaches over and puts her hand on my forearm. “But I’m glad you did.” Giving my arm a little squeeze before she pulls away. “Jackson, there’s nothing I regret about last night.” Her breath hitches a little and I look over again. This time I find her staring back at me. Biting her bottom lip.

“Me neither, Kitten. Me neither.” I’m sure we’re both thinking about the same thing. And it’s the one thing that wasn’t caught on camera last night. 

We’re both quiet for a bit and I wonder if I should turn on the radio, only now realizing that it’s been off since I picked her up earlier today. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t try to drown the silence with background noise. Or the last time that it wasn’t needed.

Kitten breaks the silence. “Meghan woke me up this morning, blowing up my phone, so she could question me about last night and send over the videos. I gotta admit, the music one is really well done.” She starts to hum the beat for “Candyman.” I don’t need to look at her to know she’s smiling.

I shake my head. “Yeah, well, easy for you to say. You look amazing in it. I look like a big dumb caveman.”

Kitten laughs. “I beg to differ. You look like a big, hot caveman. I’ll admit to watching it more than once. It’s catchy. But I’m forcing myself to not look at the comments. I know how awful people can be online, and I don’t want to get sucked down that rabbit hole of depression. I don’t know how you handle all the attention.”

“Eh, you get used to it. And sure, some people know who I am, but it’s not like I’m a rock star who gets mobbed every time I show my face in public. I don’t lead a flashy life, no strippers or fancy cars, so the paparazzi got bored of me pretty quickly. This”—I cringe saying the word—“‘Candyman’ thing will probably boost my screen time for a while. But it’ll pass.”

I can feel Kitten hesitating before she asks, “Care to tell me what that other player said to you before you punched him in the face?”

I don’t even have to think about it. “No.”

“I figured you’d say that. Well, if it had anything to do with me, I’m sorry for the trouble I caused.”

I’m just pulling into the parking lot of our destination, so I wait until I put the gear in park before turning to Kitten. “Don’t you dare apologize for anything. That piece of shit was way overdue for a punch to the face. He’s been a pain in my ass, egging me on for years, and I finally gave him what he asked for. So, take any guilty thoughts out of your pretty little head.” I give her a pointed look. “You hear me, Kitten?”

She nods, fighting a smile. “I hear you.”

“Good. Because we’re here.”

Kitten looks around for a moment before she spots the sign. Turning back to me she has a huge grin on her face. “We’re going ice-skating?”