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“What are you wearing?” Nan shrieked when I appeared at the top of the grand stairway having spent the last hour prepping and preening to make sure I fit the black cat/black tie theme for the evening perfectly.

I glanced down at my knee-length, off-the-shoulder black satin dress with white polkadots and did a little spin. I’d grabbed this particular gem at my favorite thrift shop and loved how fabulously 80s it was.

Nan, however, did not. She marched right up the stairs, grabbed me by the wrist, and dragged me into her room.“This is not a costume party, dear. It’s a formal event!”

Great. Next she was going to tell me she didn’t like the teased side pony I’d spent a solid twenty minutes perfecting.

Sure enough, she looked me over from head to toe and frowned again.“And what’s with your hair? Why do you like the 80s so much, anyway? You weren’t even born until the very last month of that wretched decade. Here. Wear this instead.”

She thrust a hanger at me, but I refused to take it.

“Nan, I’m nowhere near as tiny as you. There is no way that’s going to fit.”

“It’s stretchy,” she said, pulling at the fabric in demonstration. “So it’ll be a little tight, but at least it will fit the theme.”

“Fine,” I said accepting the slinky dress and the elbow-length white satin gloves she also tossed my way.

I groaned and tromped out of there to change. It was easier to just do it her way, even though I definitely didn’t love the idea of wearing a skintight dress all evening. How would I dance or compete in the 5k race… or even breathe?

“You look like something I barfed up,” Octo-Cat informed me as he traipsed down the hall with his tail held high.

“Hush, you,” I spat. I’d already heard it from Nan and didn’t need to take it from him, too. “There is nothing wrong with my style choices.”

He snickered.“Your style choices, that’s why you look so unfortunate. Suuuuure.”

I reached the top of the stairs to my third-floor tower bedroom and closed the door right in my smug tabby’s face. I’d had enough of his criticism already. It wasn’t just that he didn’t like my outfit. He didn’t like our idea for the event at all, especially the fact that the shelter animals would be brought on location to meet prospective new families.

“This is a one-cat household,” he’d shouted when he found this last bit out. “It’s bad enough you brought in the yap rat. Don’t make me kick you out for good.”

At being called ayap rat, Nan’s sweet Chihuahua Paisley whimpered and went to lick her wounds under the couch—a space she could fit beneath but Octo-Cat couldn’t.

I hated when he took his frustrations out on her, but she would be okay. Paisley was, after all, an eternal optimist and the kindest creature alive. She’d forgive him before he ever forgave me.

Still, it was just one night. One night that could change a lot of lives for the better.

My spoiled cat would get over it.

Eventually…

Chapter Two

And then the shelter volunteers arrived with a truck full of mewling cats kept in collapsible metal crates. I counted eleven in all—two human volunteers and nine black cats up for adoption at tonight’s gala.

“Take them upstairs, second bedroom to the right,” I told the college-aged volunteers—a pretty blonde girl and tough-looking guy with sand-colored hair—with a smile.

“But the second bedroom on the right is mine,” Octo-Cat pointed out with a perturbed growl. I hadn’t even seen him sitting to the side of the staircase and staring daggers at first the volunteers and then me. “Surely you meant for them to go somewhere else.”

“Nope.” I popped my lips on theP, hoping it would make me sound casual and unbothered. When really, the truth was I knew I’d be paying for this one for months to come, and I was also just a bit terrified to find out how Octo-Cat would repay me for this particular upset. Never matter. I could suck it up to save some animals—and so could he.

“B-b-but…” he stuttered as his tail thumped on the hardwood floor.

“Cat got your tongue?” I quipped before hurrying on my way to work on the next item I needed to check off my lengthy list.

Octo-Cat flew into a rage, shouting a string of kitty curse words as he darted up the stairs. I hoped he wasn’t on his way to make trouble for the shelter volunteers, but I didn’t have time to supervise just then. There was still too much left to do, and the event started in less than an hour.Yikes!

“Where do you want this?” asked Brock “Cal” Calhoun, the local handyman and my former crush. His muscles strained as he gripped onto the largest piece of our formal dining room table—something I never could have dreamed of moving on my own.

I paused as I surveyed the quickly emptying room.“Can you move all the furniture we don’t need for the gala into the garage, please?”

“You got it, boss.” He winked at me, and heat flooded my cheeks. Yes, I was hopelessly in love with Charles, but that didn’t change the fact that Cal was nice to look at—and possibly flirting with me.