Page 35 of Jackrabbit

“You named your thirty-pound predator Toast?” There were still tears dripping sluggishly from Colt’s eyes, but he was grinning that shit-eating grin when he looked at Beau anyway. “Beau. Oh my God.”

“If you think that cat's a predator, you haven't been paying attention.” Beau glared at the fuzzy menace as he rubbed his body against Colt’s calves. “Once saw a mouse grab food right out of his bowl while he was eating. Damn useless, that's what he is. Let the mouse go without a twitch. And he’s only twenty-five pounds. I ain’t got no obese cat.”

“You've gotta tell me how you named him Toast,” Colt said as he wiped his eyes again. “Come on. You know I'll literally never let it go if you don't. I'll follow you to your deathbed still asking.”

Beau's face was burning. He just knew he was red as he tipped his head back and sighed. “Coyotes.”

Colt sniffed. “What?”

“I have coyotes in the desert behind my house,” Beau continued. “And I like to sit out back and have breakfast most mornings.”

“And..?”

“And one morning I heard them yipping the way they do when they got their prey cornered, and this kitten just yowling and hissing his little head off.” He crossed his arms and looked out his back door. “And I ran to save it, and I had my toast in my hand, and I…threw it at the coyotes.”

Colt gaped at the side of Beau’s face for a long moment before he dissolved into a fit of laughter so hard he had to lean back against the wall and hold his sides. There were still some tears, Beau could tell, but the kind that were half-joy and half-sorrow. Beau might just die of embarrassment, but Colt deserved the laugh.

“Did it work?” Colt asked between chuckles as he slid down the wall and Toast climbed into his lap. The cat shoved his face against Colt’s and purred like a freight train. “The toast. Or did you have to get in there yourself?”

“Don't think they knew what to do with toast smacking one of them in the back of the head while some idiot human came running at them in boots and pants and nothing else.” Beau watched Toast licking Colt’s cheeks and shook his head. “I grabbed the kitten while they sniffed the toast and ran. Went to the vet, and when they asked his name I just said the first thing that came to mind.”

Toast put both paws on Colt’s shoulder and bit at one of his curls, and Colt laughed. “Beau, that's just about the cutest thing I've ever heard in my entire life.”

“S'not cute,” Beau mumbled. He scratched his mustache and glared at the agents of chaos cuddling on his floor. “S'manly. Heroic.”

“Yeah,” Colt agreed as he wiped the last of the tears from his cheeks with the heel of his palm.

The wasp was still dangling from his fingers on the string, and when Colt pulled his hand back he held it up to look at it. He clenched his hand around it again.

“Get up off my floor and come eat something,” Beau said before Colt’s smile could slip all the way off again. He kicked Colt's sneaker. “C'mon.”

“Yeah, alright.” Colt wrapped his arms around Toast, and the cat fixed himself into a comfortable loaf shape. “Come on, crispy boy. I'll feed you under the table.”

“Crispy boy.” Beau sighed as he led the way toward the kitchen.

“Yeah.” Colt nudged Beau with his shoulder. “Coz toast is—”

“Yeah, I got it.” Beau rolled his eyes and gave Colt a gentle shove. “Brat.”

They ate at the kitchen island, Colt feeding Toast bits of rice cracker and not even trying to be subtle about it. Later, Colt fell asleep on Beau's couch again just like he belonged there, one arm slung over his eyes, the scrap of shirt clinging for dear life around his chest.

Beau covered him with a blanket and went to get the check from the entry way table before Toast found it and made it a snack. When he picked it up and smoothed it out, he let out a soft whistle. Seventy thousand. Beau had seen custom builds sell for more, but he was still surprised at the amount. No way Colt hadn't fought for this price in street racing circles. The name on the check was Rosario Santos.

He put the check in a drawer to keep it safe from questing paws, and looked around for said cat to make sure he wasn't about to try to lay on Colt’s face and smother him in his sleep. From the corner of his eye, he saw Toast dart across the room with his tail in the air. He was batting at something, and by the sound of metal against the floors Beau figured it wasn't something he was supposed to have.

“Psst.” He snapped his fingers as he approached, and Toast turned to blink balefully at him. “Don't look at me like that. You got plenty of toys. Go play with those instead.”

Toast meowed at him and came to rub against his legs, and Beau scratched behind his ears as he leaned down to pick up the thing on the floor.

It was the golden wasp. The one he'd seen but not registered that night hanging from the rearview. Beau held it up and watched it spin in the light. Saw that it had little black gems for eyes. He hummed and carried it out into the garage as Colt slept and Toast climbed up onto his legs.

Chapter 22

The smell of bacon frying was always a glorious thing to wake to. Better when he wiggled into the couch and pulled the blanket up to his nose. It smelled like Beau, and he'd take a moment to tell himself he was being a creep later. Right now he was warm and the blanket smelled good and Colt just wanted to breathe it in.

Colt stretched his arms over his head and blinked at the ceiling. He grinned. “I hope you’re making toast.”

“I hope you like tofu bacon,” Beau responded, and Colt sat up to glare at Beau’s back over the couch. Beau didn’t even turn around. “Coffee next to you on the table.”