When I hit the doorway to the living room I saw Colt standing in the kitchen, a coffee cup in his hand, his back to me, his neck twisted, his eyes pointed down to the floor which was the source of the meows.

In the depth and breadth of my vision I saw all of it, including some of the living room, the dining area, the kitchen and even out the kitchen window which showed part of the speedboat, part of Dad and Mom’s RV.

But all I really saw was Colt’s back and it was a fucking great view. Nearly as good as his front view last night, shirtless, hair mussed and wearing shorts.

Damn, they needed to find this guy so I could get the hell out of there.

Colt turned when I hit the dining area and leveled his eyes on me.

“How do you get him to shut the fuck up?” he asked, his face cloudy.

Wilson meowed.

“You feed him,” I replied, hitting the kitchen.

“Then for God’s sake, feed him,” Colt muttered, turning, backing up, leaning his hips against the counter and crossing an arm on his bare chest, his coffee still held up, his scowl still aimed at poor, defenseless Wilson.

I got down to the business of feeding Wilson. Wilson saw my movements, knew the drill and shut his kitty trap.

“Thank God,” Colt muttered and I bit back a laugh but I couldn’t bite back my smile. “You should name him something else,” Colt told me.

“What’s wrong with Wilson?” I asked Wilson’s food.

“His name is Wilson?” Colt asked my back, I looked over my shoulder at him and saw his brows were knitted.

“Yeah,” I said, turning back to the food then moved to set it on the floor by Wilson’s kitty water bowl that Mom put out yesterday.

“You called him something else last night,” Colt said.

“I did?” I asked, going to the cupboard Mom took the mugs out of yesterday and I opened it to see in the divorce Melanie got the matching coffee mugs because none of Colt’s matched.

I picked one when Colt informed me, “Yeah, you called him ‘Mr. Purrsie Purrs’.”

I felt my neck get tight.

Oh Lord. That was my kitty speak, I only did that when Wilson and I were alone. Wilson loved it. Anytime I lapsed into kitty speak he came closer or if he was in another room he’d come running. But I let no one else hear my kitty speak. I thought Colt was sleeping or I’d never have done it. Obviously Colt wasn’t sleeping. Shit.

I decided to make no comment.

“Feb?”

“Mm?” I mumbled to the coffeepot, pouring myself a cup and not turning.

“Feb.”

“Yeah?” I asked, sliding to the side to open the fridge and grab the milk.

“February.” Oh shit, I could hear his laughter in my name.

“What?”

“Honey, look at me.”

I set the milk down next to my mug and turned to look at him. He was smiling.

“What’s funny?” I asked.

“Mr. Purrsie Purrs is funny,” Colt answered, he thought this was hilarious and I could tell it was taking everything for him not to laugh.

I rolled my eyes, muttered, “Whatever,” and started to turn again when Colt murmured, “Baby,” and when he did there was no humor in his tone at all.

At the timbre of his voice, I lifted my gaze to his and it felt like my head was moving in super slow motion. But when our eyes met things all of a sudden speeded up. Colt took one step forward in a lunge, his arm coming out and hooking me at the waist then, when he stepped back, I went with him. On the fly, I hit his body and my hands came up automatically to his chest to brace my fall. My hands were useless, his arms locked around me, his head came down on a slant and his mouth hit mine.

I wasn’t prepared for it. I’d been in his arms a lot lately and it felt good, better than I remembered because it was better, to have him hold me, this man, this Colt, older, smarter, stronger, more experienced.

But I hadn’t had his arms around me and his mouth on mine and my hands on the hard muscle of his bare chest and my bare legs tangled up with his while he was leaning against his kitchen counter, I was leaning against him and we were in his kitchen with me in my nightshirt.

I didn’t even try to push away. I opened my mouth, inviting his tongue inside. It swept in and I felt the spasm between my legs, instant wet and ready, and I moaned into his mouth because it felt so damned good.

I went up on tiptoe, pressing my body to his. My hands slid up his chest, his shoulders, my fingers went into his hair holding him to me as his arm tightened around my waist, the other hand going up. I felt the weight of my hair lighten as he gathered a bunch in his palm and held it against the back of my head.

We went at it, wet and rough and desperate and I wanted him so badly I had visions of pulling down my panties then his shorts then jumping up to wrap my legs around his hips and guiding him inside. I didn’t need foreplay. I just needed that kiss and Colt.

“Hey kids, we’re goin’ to Frank’s for… fuck!”

I would have torn away but although Colt’s head came up his arms got so tight I couldn’t move an inch.

“Jack, get out of the way, what’s the matter with… oh.”

Dad, calling loud, probably thinking he was going to wake us and coming up the rear and around grumbling at Dad, Mom.

Everyone stared at everyone else.

I didn’t look at Colt but both Mom and Dad looked like they wanted to kick themselves while simultaneously looking like they just remembered it was their birthday and found out they’d won the lottery.

I had no idea what I looked like but testing Colt’s strength with a cautious pull at his arms which only grew all the more tight I knew he had no intention of letting me go. I made the decision not to fight it in this uncertain situation and I stayed where I was.

When no one said anything, I waded in. “I could do Frank’s.”

“We’ll come back later,” Mom said.

“You don’t have to come back later,” I told her, trying another tug at Colt’s arms and finding them just as resistant so I gave up again. “You bought enough food to feed an army, we could do breakfast here.”

“Why don’t you come back?” Colt spoke and I could not only hear his voice, I felt it rumbling against me from crotch to chest and it felt far from bad.

“We’ll come back,” Dad said, backing out.

“We’ll give you some time. An hour,” Mom said, backing out with Dad.

“Jackie, an hour?” Dad muttered.

“More than an hour,” Mom amended hurriedly.

“How ‘bout we let them call us?” Dad suggested.

“Good idea,” Mom muttered and Dad, one arm extended to grab the door, Mom having disappeared, took one look at me and Colt, gave Colt a nod and then he shut the door.

I pulled back a lot harder against Colt’s arms but those arms didn’t budge.

I tipped my head back to look at him, putting steady pressure on his shoulders with my hands.

“Let me go.”

“Why’d you name your cat Wilson?” he asked.

In my confusion at his inane and insane question, my steady pressure ceased.

“What?”

“Wilson. Weird name for a cat.”

“Colt.”

He grinned. “Better than Mr. Purrsie Purrs.”

I put the pressure back on. “Colt.”

His neck bent, dipping his face to mine and he murmured, “Great kiss, baby.”

The pressure ceased and I whispered, “Colt.”

“I liked it.”

“I think I need to move out,” I announced.

He ignored me. “A lot.”

“Maybe I’ll move in with Joe-Bob. He was in Vietnam. Maybe he knows hand to hand combat.”

“When you moaned in my mouth… fuck,” Colt muttered, his arms giving me a squeeze.

“Will you stop talking about the kiss?” I squealed.

The grin came back but he said, “You aren’t movin’ out.”

“I think it’s best.”

“You wouldn’t know what was best for you if it smacked you on the ass.”

“Colt.”

“Though, I’ll give it a try.”

“Colt!” I shouted, giving his shoulders a shove and succeeding in gaining about three inches of space before his arms went tight again, hauling me right back.

“You wanna go to breakfast with your parents?” he asked.

What I wanted was to find a safe place in the world, one, little, safe place. I didn’t care if it was a cardboard box in an alley in the scummiest section of New York City. If it was safe, with no murderers or bitchy ex-girlfriends of the guy’s bed I was sleeping in or ex-high school sweethearts who yelled at me and teased me about what I called my cat and who could kiss way, way better than he did twenty-two years ago, then I wanted to be in that box.

“You wanna know what I want?” I asked Colt.

His arms gave me a squeeze before one of his hands drifted into my hair and I felt him wrapping it around his fist.

“Yeah, I wanna know what you want.”

Then before I could stop it and even before I knew it was what I wanted, I said, “I want Dee and Morrie and the kids to come with us and, yeah, I wanna have breakfast with Mom and Dad at Frank’s. The whole family, eating Frank’s pancakes and drinking coffee and pretending life is normal.”

His eyes moved over my face before he said quietly, “You want that, I can get you that.”

“I want it,” I said quietly back.

“You got it, baby.”

Then he let me go, gently set me back a few inches with his hands at my waist, twisted, nabbed his phone from the counter, flipped it open, hit a button and about five seconds later, he said, “Morrie, get Dee and the kids together, February wants a family breakfast at Frank’s. Meet us and Jack and Jackie there in an hour.” His eyes came to me before he said, “Right. See you there. Later.”