Flash Fiction Friday - That cat has to go.
Happy Friday, lovelies. Today is always a sad day, remembering the events that happened on September 11. Make sure you take a moment to remember those we lost over almost 20 years ago. I can’t even believe it’s been that long. Sometimes it feels like yesterday. Hug your family, be grateful, especially about the little things. You never know what might happen.
I hope you have a good day, and enjoy this week’s prompt!
Writing Prompt ~ That cat has to go. (Provided by Melissa) Scene #6
He imagined the face he was making right now wasn’t pretty. But neither was the pain. That damn cat…
What did it have against him? He thought he was nice enough a few minutes ago. Telling her he knew Brooke didn’t have anything to do with the murder.
Rory blew out a deep breath, his eyes closed as he held his hands over his crotch. Yeah, not a pretty sight at all, but hell, he needed to protect his crown jewels. He couldn’t risk another sneak attack. He got the message loud and clear.
No kissing.
But damn… He still really wanted to.
“Detective…” Brooke whispered. “You okay?”
Nope. He was not okay. He couldn’t even find his voice. One, because he wanted to shout nasty, vulgar words at a cat. Two, because the pain hadn’t subsided yet.
Sure, getting hit in the balls was painful. Like getting the wind knocked right out of you.
But claws attaching to—and sinking in—that was another pain entirely. It honestly had no words.
“Should I get some ice?” Brooke’s voice was still low and soft, as if talking to a toddler verging on the start of a massive tantrum. “What do you need?”
Well, for all the pain he was enduring, he needed that kiss. A kiss he shouldn’t even want.
“That cat has to go,” he croaked. Then he cracked open his eyes, finding Brooke’s concerned gaze. “Or I can go. But we can’t talk with the cat in the vicinity anymore.”
Brooke nodded, biting her bottom lip.
Yet, she didn’t indicate what her head nod meant. Yes, the cat would be banished? God, yes, he hoped so. Or, yes, he should go? Not the answer he wanted, but it would probably be the wiser one.
Rory shifted on the couch, wincing, yet the pain was starting to ebb away. Slightly.
“Willow…” Brooke smiled, as if that would lessen whatever horrible thing she was about to say. Rory had no doubt he wouldn’t like what she was about to say. “She doesn’t listen very well. She has a mind of her own.”
“She’s a cat.”
Pick her up and put her in another room and lock the door. Seemed simple enough to him.
Brooke frowned.
Rory didn’t like the way her brows dipped down and her smile disappeared. He couldn’t figure out why she suddenly frowned either—or why it bothered him so much.
“She’s not just a cat.”
He chuckled, regretting the decision immediately when Brooke’s frown worsened.
“She’s family. And I could ask her nicely to go to another room, but I won’t just put her in another room.”
It didn’t take detective skills to read between the lines.
“So, in other words, you can’t pick her up because she’ll attack you like she attacked my balls.”
“Well, I can pick her up,” Brooke averted her gaze, “But it’s not always a pretty sight.”
“I imagine my balls aren’t either at the moment.”
That garnered a delightful laugh out of Brooke. Shit. He’d keep making fun of himself if he got to hear more of that sweet sound.
What was this woman doing to him?
Putting him under a spell, for sure. He never acted this way with a woman.
She made him lose his mind. Which was what he had been trying to say before the demon spawn cat nearly eviscerated his balls. It was probably a good thing he never spoke those words. Getting any closer to this woman—beautiful, tempting woman—would not be good.
“I should go.”
With that decision firmly planted, he stood up. A sharp pain rattled up his spine, then slowly withered away until only a dull ache remained.
That damn, damn cat.
“Of course.” Brooke stood up as well. “Was there anything else I can help you with?”
Case wise, he didn’t think so. With the information she had given him—brief as it may be—he had a good start to work with. He imagined her boss had many enemies that would want him dead, especially if he had such grabby hands.
Personal wise, she could help him in so many ways.
But he wasn’t looking for a woman in his life. And definitely not one with a murderous cat that was considered family.
“I’ll drop by if there’s anything else I need. If you think of anything else, give me a call.” He grabbed a card from his wallet, and set it on the coffee table.
No need to invite trouble by possibly making even the slightest contact. One touch and he’d lose his mind and kiss her, risking the wrath of Willow.
No, thanks.
“Thank you for your time, Brooke.”
Then he walked out of the room, hating himself for how abrupt that sounded.
What a jackass.
Willow stood by the door as he approached it.
“I’m leaving. You got your way, demon spawn.”
Meow.
Rory didn’t stick around to hear more. He whipped open the door and left, feeling like a fool.
Letting a dumb cat run him out of the house. How ridiculous. He’d never live it down if his partner found out.
♥♥♥
If you’d like to start the story at the beginning, you can find the other scenes here:
Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5
I hope you have a good day, and enjoy this week’s prompt!
Writing Prompt ~ That cat has to go. (Provided by Melissa) Scene #6
He imagined the face he was making right now wasn’t pretty. But neither was the pain. That damn cat…
What did it have against him? He thought he was nice enough a few minutes ago. Telling her he knew Brooke didn’t have anything to do with the murder.
Rory blew out a deep breath, his eyes closed as he held his hands over his crotch. Yeah, not a pretty sight at all, but hell, he needed to protect his crown jewels. He couldn’t risk another sneak attack. He got the message loud and clear.
No kissing.
But damn… He still really wanted to.
“Detective…” Brooke whispered. “You okay?”
Nope. He was not okay. He couldn’t even find his voice. One, because he wanted to shout nasty, vulgar words at a cat. Two, because the pain hadn’t subsided yet.
Sure, getting hit in the balls was painful. Like getting the wind knocked right out of you.
But claws attaching to—and sinking in—that was another pain entirely. It honestly had no words.
“Should I get some ice?” Brooke’s voice was still low and soft, as if talking to a toddler verging on the start of a massive tantrum. “What do you need?”
Well, for all the pain he was enduring, he needed that kiss. A kiss he shouldn’t even want.
“That cat has to go,” he croaked. Then he cracked open his eyes, finding Brooke’s concerned gaze. “Or I can go. But we can’t talk with the cat in the vicinity anymore.”
Brooke nodded, biting her bottom lip.
Yet, she didn’t indicate what her head nod meant. Yes, the cat would be banished? God, yes, he hoped so. Or, yes, he should go? Not the answer he wanted, but it would probably be the wiser one.
Rory shifted on the couch, wincing, yet the pain was starting to ebb away. Slightly.
“Willow…” Brooke smiled, as if that would lessen whatever horrible thing she was about to say. Rory had no doubt he wouldn’t like what she was about to say. “She doesn’t listen very well. She has a mind of her own.”
“She’s a cat.”
Pick her up and put her in another room and lock the door. Seemed simple enough to him.
Brooke frowned.
Rory didn’t like the way her brows dipped down and her smile disappeared. He couldn’t figure out why she suddenly frowned either—or why it bothered him so much.
“She’s not just a cat.”
He chuckled, regretting the decision immediately when Brooke’s frown worsened.
“She’s family. And I could ask her nicely to go to another room, but I won’t just put her in another room.”
It didn’t take detective skills to read between the lines.
“So, in other words, you can’t pick her up because she’ll attack you like she attacked my balls.”
“Well, I can pick her up,” Brooke averted her gaze, “But it’s not always a pretty sight.”
“I imagine my balls aren’t either at the moment.”
That garnered a delightful laugh out of Brooke. Shit. He’d keep making fun of himself if he got to hear more of that sweet sound.
What was this woman doing to him?
Putting him under a spell, for sure. He never acted this way with a woman.
She made him lose his mind. Which was what he had been trying to say before the demon spawn cat nearly eviscerated his balls. It was probably a good thing he never spoke those words. Getting any closer to this woman—beautiful, tempting woman—would not be good.
“I should go.”
With that decision firmly planted, he stood up. A sharp pain rattled up his spine, then slowly withered away until only a dull ache remained.
That damn, damn cat.
“Of course.” Brooke stood up as well. “Was there anything else I can help you with?”
Case wise, he didn’t think so. With the information she had given him—brief as it may be—he had a good start to work with. He imagined her boss had many enemies that would want him dead, especially if he had such grabby hands.
Personal wise, she could help him in so many ways.
But he wasn’t looking for a woman in his life. And definitely not one with a murderous cat that was considered family.
“I’ll drop by if there’s anything else I need. If you think of anything else, give me a call.” He grabbed a card from his wallet, and set it on the coffee table.
No need to invite trouble by possibly making even the slightest contact. One touch and he’d lose his mind and kiss her, risking the wrath of Willow.
No, thanks.
“Thank you for your time, Brooke.”
Then he walked out of the room, hating himself for how abrupt that sounded.
What a jackass.
Willow stood by the door as he approached it.
“I’m leaving. You got your way, demon spawn.”
Meow.
Rory didn’t stick around to hear more. He whipped open the door and left, feeling like a fool.
Letting a dumb cat run him out of the house. How ridiculous. He’d never live it down if his partner found out.
♥♥♥
If you’d like to start the story at the beginning, you can find the other scenes here:
Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5
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