The guy pointed to the stroller. "If you want, I'll take a look."
Without thinking, I glanced toward my destination. From here, I couldn't see my aunt's house, but I saw plenty of other houses –bighouses with lots of stonework and landscaped yards, including quite a few with Christmas decorations even though it wasn't yet Thanksgiving.
But none of this changed the fact that I had a broken stroller and no way to fix it.
When I nodded my assent, the guy circled around me and claimed the spot directly in front of the stroller. He lowered his head to look inside and did a double-take before looking up to say, "Wow, that's one ugly baby."
Chapter 3
Gwen
Ugly?
Oh, please.He was obviously joking, but it seemed disloyal to laugh. Still, my lips twitched just a little as I replied, "Very funny."
He gave a mock shudder. "Who says I'm joking?"
Hehadto be joking, because if he wasn't, he needed glasses more thanIdid. Of course, my own need was debatable, but that was beside the point.
I told him, "Iknowyou meant 'adorable.' And besides, there's a lot more than one in there."
He gave the stroller another glance. "Yeah, but only one's awake."
"Really?" The last time I'd looked, they'dallbeen sleeping. Curious now, I joined the stranger at the front of the carriage and lowered my head to peer inside.
Under the Christmas red canopy, all of the kittens were asleep, snuggled together in a nice, comfy pile, except for Ginger, a vivid orange tabby who was wide awake and staring out through the front-facing mesh window like she was trying figure out what exactly the big blond guy was up to.
On this, I could totally relate.
I looked back to the stranger. "You don'treallythink she's ugly, do you?"
"That depends," he said. "Is that a baby or a cat?"
As if he didn’t know."Technically, it's a babyanda cat." She was, after all, only twelve weeks old.
He gave a slow nod. "So a human-feline hybrid."
I laughed in spite of myself. "No. It's a kitten, obviously. Theyallare."
His lips quirked upward. "Saysyou."
"Yeah. Meandthe vet." In truth, I'd never met their vet since this was only my first full day on the job, but as a responsible pet-sitter, Ididhave the vet's phone number on speed dial just in case.
"Andthatone," the guy said, pointing to Ginger. "You watch, she's gonna be trouble."
"What makes you say that?"
"I've got one just like her at home."
Nowthatsurprised me. "You have a kitten? Seriously?"
"Not a kitten," he said. "A cat. And he looks just like her, except he's bigger and male. Not mine though." Under his breath, he added, "Thank God."
I stiffened. "What, you don't like cats?"
"Me? I like them just fine." His eyes filled with amusement. "Butthisone's a holy terror."
His words said one thing, but his fond expression said another. Unless I was horribly mistaken, he lovedthatcat as muchIloved the kittens – which was a whole lot even though they weren't mine. "Oh, come on," I laughed. "How much trouble can one cat be?"
