My Feline Protector

Local pub, Middlemarch

“Those two guys are staring at us.” Jenny Weaver giggled, a faint blush creeping into her lightly tanned cheeks. “They’re cute. Have you noticed the guys around here are big and e-excellent eye candy?” She hiccupped, after too many glasses of wine to celebrate their successful four-day journey along the rail trail.

London Allbright hid her grin behind a glass of wine, but didn’t turn her head to search out the men in the low lighting of the country pub. It was good to see her older sister happy again, and she was glad she’d succumbed to Jenny’s pleas to holiday in New Zealand and Australia.

They’d both needed the break from the harsh English winter, Jenny most of all. The shenanigans of Jenny’s husband, soon to be ex, had battered her sister, left her a shadow of her normal confident self. It was pleasing to see her return.

“Hello, ladies. Would you take pity on us and share your table? It’s busy in here tonight.”

London forgot herself and gaped at the two men. The one who spoke was tall with black hair and green eyes that sparkled with fun. His wicked grin held more sex appeal than was good for a man and took him to drool-worthy. With his broad chest and runner’s build, he grabbed attention, despite his casual shirt and faded blue jeans.

“Of course you can,” Jenny said before London could reply.

“I’m Gerard Drummond.” He gestured at the other man. “My friend Henry Anderson.”

The two men pulled out chairs and sat with their drinks. Gerard’s friend was big and solid, much beefier and his dark blond hair was longer. London glanced at her sister and forced herself not to grin. Jenny couldn’t take her eyes off Henry. Ogling was the word.

“I’m Jenny Weaver and my sister London Allbright,” Jenny said.

Jenny’s perky attitude thrilled her, even if she did worry about Jenny going too far. Prude. At least that was what Jenny had called her when she’d expressed her concerns and suggested moving slower with the men they’d met during their holiday. Seize the day or night as the case may be, according to Jenny.

Royce had—no, she wouldn’t waste a thought on her brother-in-law. The man was a bully and not worth the effort. Jenny intended to set divorce proceedings in motion and was considering moving to Bath after living in West London for many years.

“Ah, a sexy accent.” Gerard patted his chest near his heart.

Jenny smiled. “I live in West London and my sister is from Bath.”

“It’s busy in here tonight,” London said, eyeing the number of customers waiting for service at the bar. The dining area was also doing a roaring trade, and the scent of blue cod and chips had her stomach rumbling. “Is there something on?”

“It’s the zombie run tomorrow and the craft market,” Gerard said. “Haven’t you seen the posters around the town?”

“Ah, I saw the posters,” London said.

A bark interrupted, and she stared around in surprise.

“Oh, what a cute little dog,” Jenny said.

“Geoffrey,” Henry said in a gruff voice and clicked his fingers. The small terrier trotted to Henry and sat beside him. “He’s not meant to be in here.”

“They won’t notice with this crowd,” Gerard said. “Now that he knows where you are, he’ll sit under the table.”

Henry nodded and crouched to speak to his dog. To London’s amazement, the white-and-black dog went under the table and sprawled out to wait.

“How long are you staying?” Gerard asked.

London smiled. “We’ve booked for two nights. Neither of us are cyclists and we weren’t sure how sore we’d feel once we finished cycling the rail trail.”

“Do you have sore muscles?” Henry asked, his gaze darting to Jenny.

“Not as bad as we thought,” Jenny said.

The two men exchanged a quick glance. “We’re looking for two women to join our team in the zombie run. I don’t suppose we could persuade you to help us out?”

London opened her mouth to say, hell no. She wasn’t a runner.

Jenny spoke first. “We’d love to. I’ve always wanted to enter a zombie run. Something different and fun.”

Gerard sipped his beer, his gaze on London. “You’d be helping us out of a jam. We’d lined up two women to join our team, but one is sick and the other stayed in Wellington.”

“I’m not much of a runner,” London said, but she weakened under her sister’s pleading stare. Before this holiday she hadn’t known she could bungee jump or cycle for days either.

Gerard placed his hand on her arm, the heat sending an unexpected frisson skipping across her skin. “Please consider it.”

Her sister was chatting with Henry, obviously considering their plans for tomorrow fixed. Although she was pleased to see the return of her bubbly sister, she hadn’t missed her managing side. Big sister bossy syndrome. She sighed. “My sister talked me into a bungee jump. I thought I might wet myself,” she confessed. “I can’t believe a zombie run is any worse. Okay. I’m in, and I’ll do my best, but I’ve never been big on exercise.” She gestured at her curves and wrinkled her nose. “I’m more at home in an office, and my hobby is cooking. On my most exciting days, I visit historical properties, so I’m not promising great things.”

The rumble of Gerard’s laugh tugged at her, and her gaze flew to his. Something in this man called to her, heck, enticed her to reckless behavior. She sipped her wine and forced her gaze off his smiley face, concentrating instead on the skinny, stooped man collecting empty glasses from a nearby table.

“This race is about fun and participation. We’re raising funds for the community. The craft market is also this weekend. They’re holding the race in the morning and opening the market in the afternoon.”

“That’s more my speed,” London said, her focus right back on the hunk.

“I’ll escort you around the market. I know the best vendors. The ladies head for the clothing stall run by Isabella Mitchell. You might need protection. They had a violent squabble over a dress last month.”

London stared, unsure if he was telling the truth. “Are you telling fibs?”