Winton's Strays (sweet gay romance) by Shiloh Hollis

Author:Shiloh, Hollis [Shiloh, Hollis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Spare Words Press
Published: 2013-01-04T08:00:00+00:00

The kitten sat on the kitchen floor in front of the stove, slurping from a dish of milk, growling low in its throat. Sometimes it got engrossed with the milk and forgot, but it always remembered and quickly began growling again.

“That was a long minute.” Winton’s aunt cast Miles an amused glance as she placed a warm plate full of food in front of him. “I saved your meal, though. You’re lucky I didn’t feed it to Winny’s squirrel.” She snorted and moved away again, her skirts sweeping past and brushing his chair.

He stared down at the boiled potatoes, canned green beans, and shreds of ham. He still felt too worked up to have much of an appetite, but the food looked and smelled delicious.

After their kiss (and then another one), they’d taken a moment to each regain his composure. Win had to juggle the angry little kitten, and they headed back to the kitchen.

Once he’d gotten the kitten situated with some warm milk, Win insisted on bandaging Miles’s scratches, and then dragged Miles’s bag off, casting him a quick grin as he left.

Now, to the music of the angry little growls, Miles cleared his plate and mopped up the last of the savory juice with a heel of rich, chewy bread. It tasted heavenly after Army chow and generic hospital food that tasted bland and sterile.

Footsteps clattered into the room. He looked up, raising his sleeve, and then hastily his napkin, towards his mouth. There was Win, breathless, flushed, and excited-looking. It made Miles want to kiss him all over again.

“Yes?” He raised a brow.

“I got your bag put away in your room, and made a nest for your cat.” His eyes shone bright and mischievous and as wonderfully full of secrets as the night sky.

“My cat?” Miles almost choked.

Winton grinned, and set down a small box by the stove.

He moved towards the kitten, which was trying to sit up and clean its paw. The dignity on the little cat’s face didn’t match the clumsiness of its raised paw, or the way it kept almost falling over, heavy-eyed and replete. Winton gave a soft, fond laugh and bent to touch the kitten’s fur. It gave a startled growl, waking up more fully. Winton drew back, his eyes gleaming and proud. “He’s a hell raiser. I bet he’s going to be a great mouser someday.”

“It is a boy, then?”

Win nodded. “C’mon, little guy.” He patted a tattered sweater in the box by the stove. “Time for sleep.” The kitten ignored him. Winton caught it by the scruff of the neck and settled it in the box.

As soon as he put it down, the kitten swatted a clumsy paw at him. It hissed, small ears flattening. Then it peered and sniffed around, turned in a circle, stumbling in exhaustion, and sprawled on the sweater, one paw stretched out hedonistically. It yawned and closed its eyes.

Win looked up at Miles from his crouching position on the floor, and Miles was again captured by his face, all lanky lines and soft blue eyes.

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