“No more mentally defective animals, Milene,” Salvatore grumbles. “One is enough.” “Well, he’s a little grouchy,” the lady says. “Not very good with people.” “Sounds exactly like you, Tore.” I place a hand on his arm. “Can we take him?” “No.” “But look at him! Isn’t he cute?” “No.” “Tore!” He looks at the cat, then moves his gaze to glare at me. “You said we’d come here to look.” I cock an eyebrow and smile. “I lied.” Salvatore watches me, his eyes glued to my lips. He does that a lot. He always studies my mouth when I smile. “Just take the damn thing, and let’s go home,” he grumbles.
