Push Me Ch. 04

"Hi, Moira," Sheila said. "Are you working today?"

"Nope. I'm here to pick up him," Moira replied, pointing at the little bundle.

"I didn't think you could have pets."

"Well, he's not mine, actually." Moira grabbed my arm and pulled me toward her. "Sheila, this is Craig."

"OH! Hi! We've heard all about you," Sheila said excitedly.

"Uh oh," I replied. Moira and Sheila laughed, and I extended my hand to her. "Hi, Sheila. It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," she replied, giving me an appraising look and shaking my hand. Then, over her shoulder, and with enough volume for the entire building to hear, she said, "Hey, everybody. Moira and Craig are here."

"Uh oh," I said again.

"Ay, Dios mio," Moira said at the same time.

In almost no time, everyone currently on the clock had piled into the waiting area. Introductions and handshakes went around while Moira took the kitten in his blanket from Sheila. She scratched his cheeks, and he rumbled contently. Once I had gotten approval from the bevy of Moira's co-workers, including a smoky look from a sculpted red head named Morgan, we were free to leave.

As soon as we were all settled in the car, Moira turned to me. "If you ever talk to Morgan while I'm not around, I'll kill you," she warned me.

"Whoa. OK." I took her hands in mine. "Moira, you have nothing to worry about. First, you're way hotter. Second, I could tell from one look that she's a man-eater. She looked at me like I was a trophy. I have no desire to get mixed up in anything like that." The dubious express on her face never wavered. "Third, I love you, Moira. I am yours, completely." She softened, and eventually smiled.

"I'm sorry. I just don't trust her. I don't really even like her."

"Don't worry. I won't get within a mile of her. I promise."

"I guess that's far enough," she replied, her smile widening. "Can we go now?"

"Your wish is my command"

Back at my condo, we unpacked our new arrival. Moira examined my choice of cat toys, giving me an upraised eyebrow at the laser pointer.

"Trust me, he'll love it," I told her. She nodded absently, her attention already refocused on the bundle of nose-led energy roaming my living room.

"He needs a name," she said, eventually, watching him explore the living room.

"Well, I usually wait for a name to come to me, instead of trying to force one. Something will inspire one."

"Hrm." She went over to where he was perched on the back of my recliner, his head on a constant swivel, and scratched his head. Thunderous purring ensued, and she ran the gray tips of his tail and ears between her fingers. I watched them silently.

"His name is Frost," she said after a few moments. Not, "How do you like...?", not, "What about...?", just a declaration of an obvious fact. When I didn't answer, she turned toward me. I walked to her and put an arm around her waist, letting him rub against the fingers of my other hand.

"You're absolutely right. It is."