Chapter 2: The Day I Met My North Star

I understood every word Ethan said, but put together, it took me forever to process.

My brain short-circuited. Daisy—pregnant? Biscuit—the dad? Was this a feline scandal?

Especially when Ethan glanced at Biscuit, I could feel Biscuit trembling harder, burrowing into my arms like he was hoping to become invisible.

Biscuit knew he was in trouble. He tried to hide behind me, meowing for mercy.

Every now and then, he’d let out a dramatic “meow.”

My goodness, I couldn’t help but marvel.

This little stray cat is way bolder than his owner. I haven’t even held Ethan’s hand yet!

I shot Biscuit a look of pure envy. “You little Casanova.”

Damn, I’m not letting this stand.

Can I really let a cat outdo me?

With that thought, I don’t know where I found the nerve, but I lowered my gaze and stared right at Ethan’s fair, clean, beautifully shaped hands.

I’d always noticed Ethan’s hands—long fingers, strong but graceful. The kind of hands you’d trust to catch you if you fell.

No exaggeration, Ethan has the most gorgeous hands I’ve ever seen on a man.

I had to bite my lip to keep from sighing out loud. If there were a contest for Most Beautiful Hands in Northfield, Ethan would win by a landslide.

"Have you thought about what to do?"

Whoa, this really needs to be handled.

I reluctantly tore my eyes away. I can’t exactly hash this out in front of both cats.

Wrong time, wrong place, wrong audience.

"Um, don’t get me wrong, I just wanted to say I’ll make it right. After all, it was my cat who couldn’t control himself."

I tried to sound mature, but my voice came out a little too high-pitched. I could feel my cheeks turning pink.

Maybe the heat in my gaze was too obvious, because Ethan’s look at me changed ever so slightly.

Was that a smirk? A flicker of interest? Or maybe he was just trying not to laugh at my awkwardness.

After a moment’s silence, Ethan spoke bluntly: "Forget it."

...

Forget it?

How can I just forget it? I refuse to raise a deadbeat cat!

I squared my shoulders, determined not to let Biscuit off the hook—or myself, for that matter.

Watching Ethan turn to leave with Daisy, I quickly nudged Biscuit, who was still cowering nearby.

I shot him a look.

The next second, Biscuit’s chubby body darted out. All those expensive canned foods I fed him weren’t for nothing.

Biscuit sprang into action, blocking Ethan’s path like a furry linebacker. He looked up with those big, pleading eyes—the same look I used to give my dad when I wanted a new phone.

Ethan was forced to stop and glanced at me, saying nothing.

He raised an eyebrow, waiting to see what I’d do next. The ball was in my court.

How could I let go of such a golden opportunity to get closer to Ethan?

I took a deep breath, channeling every ounce of confidence I’d ever faked in my life, and stepped forward.

So I walked over with a serious face and stood in front of him. "If a child misbehaves, it’s the mother’s fault. Don’t worry, I’ll handle Biscuit’s mess."

I tried to sound like the world’s most responsible pet owner, but inside, I was screaming. This was the closest I’d ever been to having a real conversation with Ethan.

Heh.

I’ll take care of you and your cat, both.

I couldn’t help but let my eyes linger on Ethan’s face, memorizing every detail. His lips twitched, and I almost thought he was going to smile.

Hearing this, Ethan raised his eyebrows, his eyes glinting with amusement.

I’d never seen that look before—a flash of mischief, maybe even a challenge.

Wow, I saw a seductive witch in male form.

If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under, smiling like an idiot.

Until an invoice landed on my forehead with a sharp "smack."

"Alright, here’s Daisy’s vet bill. Venmo or PayPal?"

Ethan’s delivery was so deadpan, I almost missed the humor in it. He handed me the bill like it was the most natural thing in the world.

...

Staring at the long string of numbers on the bill, I almost did a split right there in front of Ethan.

My knees buckled. Was this real life? I’d never seen so many digits outside of my student loan statements.

If it weren’t Ethan standing here, I would’ve thought this was a scam.

For a split second, I considered reporting him to the Better Business Bureau. But then I looked at his face—serious, handsome, and completely immune to my internal panic.

Looking at Ethan’s face—exactly my type—I swallowed hard. I really wanted to ask if that “forget it” from earlier still counted.