Five minutes later, I'm sitting on the couch watching Sara roll around the floor with the mysterious white cat and I'm not only praying it doesn't have fleas, but also wondering how the hell I'm going to explain to Caine we've somehow acquired a new cat when I wasn't supposed to leave the camper.
This is bad.
An absurd level of panic keeps rising in my chest, even as I try to convince myself it's fine.
"We're keeping it, right?" Jer asks, his arm around Sadie as he watches his sister play with the cat.
I shift uneasily. "I don't think the cat wants to stay with us." Better to blame the strange feline than my fear over Caine's temper.
Even as the words leave my mouth, the white cat stretches languidly across Sara's belly, looking for all the world like a giant, furry limp noodle. Its eyes close to contented slits as her small fingers trace patterns through its suspiciously pristine fur.
