Don't want to receive emails from me? It's easy to unsubscribe! Just scroll all the way to the bottom of this message and click the link. You can always follow me on BookBub instead if you'd rather receive emails only when I have a new release.

Hey!

3 high cats

Because I like to multitask, I combined a visit to my veterinarian sister with appointments for my three kittens to be spayed and neutered. I explained the procedures to my kids, ages four and six, as being necessary to keep the cats from having kittens. They protested that kittens would be "so cute though," which sparked an age-inappropriate lecture about the overpopulation of cats and dogs and responsible pet ownership.

My boys love these kittens, so I was even more nervous about the operations than I would have been otherwise. But my sister is one of those people who's unequivocally excellent at all the things she does, so it was no surprise to me that everything went smoothly and the kittens woke up from anesthesia as their usual, friendly selves.

Maybe even friendlier than usual, I wondered aloud?

Yes, my sister confirmed. She gave them some kind of drug for the pain that would last three days and make them "pretty high," which I can only assume is an official medical term.

They're littermates, so they all look a lot alike, but they have distinct personalities. It was interesting to see how they each responded to being "pretty high," too. The female, Snowflake, was purring constantly and cuddlier than usual. The long-haired boy, Pete, was dazed and confused, lounging draped half-in, half-out of the carrier we had to wrestle him into on the trip down. And the short-haired boy, Bill, was slightly hyper and paranoid, staring with intense distrust at a dead bug in one corner of the spare room where they spent their post-op day before we came home, and making a mad dash for the door every time someone cracked it open. All three were super in need of pets and extra talkative.

We're back home now and they're resting and doing well. I'm keeping an eye on Snowflake's stitches and have a cone that I can put on her if the need arises (my sister calls this an e-collar, which I learned is short for Elizabethan collar, which is so much more fun than cone, don't you think?) but it seems that, as usual, my sister has done exquisite work and her patients are ready to carry on with their lives.

What I'm reading

I just finished the first book in the Vino and Veritas series, Featherbed, by Annabeth Albert, and I'm starting Heartscape. Have you read any of the books in this collection? If so, which was your favorite?

What I'm writing

I'm beginning to outline the next book in the Wild Ones series, As the Tallgrass Grows, and recovering a little bit from release week! I have been giving a lot of thought to what I want to spend time writing in the coming months. I have our past newsletter serial, Undertow, to revise and ready for publication, but that's going to be quite an undertaking and I have to admit I'm a little worried about delivering something other than the next installment in an ongoing series.

Speaking of ongoing series, I have Cakewalk and book four in the In Step series niggling me constantly, and of course As the Tallgrass Grows is right there competing for my attention too.

The only thing I know I'm writing in the coming days is Night & Day, our ongoing newsletter serial. Chapter Eight is right at the bottom of this email!

Join Rachel's Party Barn, my Facebook reader group

Have a great week!

xo,

Rachel

Website | Rachel's Party Barn on Facebook | Instagram | Discord

Books by Rachel Ember

Long Winter | Signs of Spring | Burning Season | As the Tallgrass Grows

Jaywalking | Sleepwalker

***

NIGHT & DAY

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

The next morning, Jonathan came into the kitchen and was surprised to find Ty alone, sitting at the kitchen table with his face bent over a coffee cup like he was bathing in the steam rising from it.

"Long night?" Jonathan asked sympathetically, glancing around. "She's still asleep?" He kept his voice to a murmur instinctively, although if Isabel wasn't in the room he didn't think he'd disturb her. When she opted to sleep, she was difficult to wake up.

"Yes, and yes," Ty murmured, smiling up at him with sleepy eyes. "She seems to get drowsy every morning around sunrise. Usually I try to keep her up, so that I can feed her before you take her to the center."

"I appreciate what you're doing so much," Jonathan said, pouring his own cup of coffee. "I'd really be in a bind if you hadn't been willing to help. But if you've changed your mind, or if it doesn't work out, I'll completely understand."

He turned back to find a little tension in the set of Ty's shoulders that hadn't been there before, and a frown on his face as he looked into the coffee cup like it was a scrying pool, and some important secret would be revealed there if he looked long enough.

"I haven't changed my mind," he said after a long moment, looking up at Jonathan. "But last night you said we'd work out some time off, right? Because I do have to look after my youngest sister." He glanced back down into his mug. "I'm sure you're wondering why, considering she lives with both of our parents."

Jonathan slowly sat down in the chair across from Ty's at the table. "From what you said the other night, I assumed that they weren't entirely..."

Ty's mouth curved into a small, rueful smile. "Fit to parent? Or to be trusted?"

Jonathan nodded.

"That's the problem, yes. But they're not just disinterested, you know? It's like, they actively make life harder just by being around."

Jonathan badly wanted to reach out and stroke Ty's slender fingers where they were curved around his coffee mug, but of course he wasn't going to do that. He took a sip of black coffee and barely tasted it, just to distract himself from the impulse. "I'm sorry that you had to fill in for them. That's more than anyone should have to do, even for their siblings."

Now Ty was frowning at Jonathan, instead of into his coffee. "I've never regretted needing to be there for my sisters."

Jonathan wasn't surprised, exactly, but he wasn't sure what to say either. He studied Ty's indignant face. "I guess you wouldn't be," he said eventually. "I can see that you take a lot of joy in caring for children."

"Yeah. I do. It's really nice to be needed so much, you know?" He bit his lip. "That sounds pathetic, doesn't it?"

"Not at all." Jonathan shook his head vehemently. "If more people were like you, the world would have fewer problems."

Ty seemed surprised by Jonathan's words, and like he didn't know what to say in reply. "Thanks for saying that."

Oh, no, Jonathan thought desperately as he looked into Ty's dark golden eyes and his heart tried to beat its way out of his chest. His effort at keeping himself in check around Ty was already failing, and Ty hadn't even spent his first full day in the townhouse yet.

"I should get to work," Jonathan said, which was only half true. 

Ty nodded. "Okay. I'll text you if something comes up, but I'm sure we'll be fine."

***

It wasn't that Jonathan wanted anything to go wrong at the house or with Isabel, of course, and yet he found himself slightly disappointed each time he checked his phone and saw no text from Ty. They'd never texted casually before. Their entire message history consisted of check-ins about arrival and departure times. But after the closing was completed, and Jonathan made lunch out of a dry apple from the break room, he pulled out his phone for the dozenth time and this time, relented to the urge to text.

How is everything going today?

A reasonable question, given that it was Ty's first day, of sorts. The answer didn't come immediately, which he reminded himself was a good thing. There would obviously be times while he was caring for Isabel that he couldn't immediately read and respond to a text.

It was almost one before Ty answered. Hey! Sorry, Isabel was in the middle of a bottle when you texted. We're doing fine. She's a little cranky because I've been keeping her awake, but I just put her down for a nap.

There was nothing that made sense as a reply except something along the lines of a thumbs up emoji, or possibly a mention of when he'd be home, or even a promise to revisit the subject of Ty's time off. But instead Jonathan found himself typing, I wish I could take a nap.

Immediately, the indicator that Ty was typing back appeared at the bottom of the screen, so Jonathan waited for long seconds, unable to look away from his screen, until the text popped up, following a laughing emoji.

I don't know how to tell you this, but I was just about to take one.

A moment later, another text flashed, like Ty had typed it and hit send, maybe impulsively? It read, Jealous?

Even though Ty was always warm and kind with Jonathan, he'd never teased. And for some reason a hint of that between them made Jonathan's already unsteady heart feel shaken up all over again. He didn't trust himself to reply to the message right then, so he just sent back his own laughing emoji and a quick, Going into a meeting. See you later.

But all afternoon he caught himself wondering at odd moments where the conversation might have gone if he'd let himself reply the way he'd really wanted to. Teasing back. Flirting. Interactions of that kind, relaxed and playful, were usually impossible for him—unless he felt deeply comfortable with someone. And there had been so few people that he'd felt comfortable with. Ty's name was now at the bottom of that short list, a list he hadn’t added anyone to in a decade.

Ordinarily, the drive home was Jonathan's opportunity to unwind. But today, the opposite was true; the closer he got to the townhouse, the more his palms felt damp on the steering wheel and the back of his neck and arms prickled with heat. He was nervous, like he was showing up for a date instead of his own home.

It was ridiculous. Ty had been at his house every night for weeks. But that was different; this time it would be Jonathan coming through the door to find Ty already there, where he'd spent the entire day with Isabel. Jonathan wasn't sure why it felt so strange, but it did, though not in a negative way.

He gave himself a small lecture after he'd parked the car and before getting out and heading inside. You're his employer. Don't be an asshole.

Short, but effective. He rolled his shoulders and got out of the car, his suit jacket over his arm, and walked inside with the same conscious composure that he put on when he was walking into a courtroom.

"Hello?" he called cautiously as he stepped into the quiet foyer. The house seemed quiet at first, and then he realized he could hear the low babble of Isabel from the direction of the nursery.

"In here!" Ty called a second later. Jonathan left his suit jacket on the bench by the door and went to find them, only to recoil when he stepped into the doorway at the very moment Ty unpeeled a disastrous diaper from Isabel's bottom, meanwhile holding her firmly by the ankles with his other hand.

Jonathan had, of course, changed plenty of diapers, but that didn't mean he was unbothered when taken off guard.

"Hey," Ty said cheerfully over his shoulder, having wrapped up the diaper and shoved it into the sealed disposal container with an expert's ease. "This probably isn't the best time to ask if you're hungry, but I made dinner. I hope that's okay."

"Oh, you didn't have to." Jonathan was unsettled. Cooking for himself was another part of his routine, another way to release the tension that built through the day and which hadn't yet had its outlet. He loosened his tie. "But, thank you. I appreciate it. I"ll just go change."

He took off his suit, hung it back neatly on the hanger in the closet, indiscernible from the cleaned suits except that it was set on the other side of the rack with the ones that had been worn and would go to the dry cleaner's the next time he made a run. He kept his bedroom immaculate, even more so than the rest of the house. The presence of clutter anywhere within the four walls of the room made it impossible for him to sleep. So he moved quickly but it still took time to place his watch in its locked drawer in the dresser, his socks in the laundry hamper, his shoes on their shelf in the closet.

By the time he came back downstairs wearing casual clothes, Ty was in the kitchen, Isabel in the cradle on the floor beside him, which he was rocking with his foot while he scooped pasta onto a plate.

He wore his usual uniform of ratty jeans, a faded T-shirt, and bare feet. But he looked even more tired than usual, and this T-shirt was slightly shorter in the sleeves than the ones Jonathan had seen him wear before, which put more of the tattoo that fascinated Jonathan so much on display. For a long moment he just stood there, watching Ty while Ty didn't realize he was being observed, his attention divided between plating what appeared to be spaghetti and sauce from a jar, and making faces at Isabel so that she writhed madly and gurgled in a way that was beginning to sound distinctly like a laugh.

Before he could be noticed creeping in the doorway, Jonathan stepped into the kitchen and clapped his hands together. "Anything I can do to help?"

Ty smiled at him over his shoulder, looking a little shy. "No. It's just spaghetti. I hope that's okay." He nodded to the table, where he'd already set out silverware and two glasses of water. "Have a seat."

Jonathan let himself watch Ty as he set down each plate. He looked deeply tired. And no wonder; he'd said himself that he was spending the day trying to keep Isabel awake, after a night of unsuccessfully trying to get her to sleep.

"How long do you think it will take to get her into a routine?" Jonathan looked down at his plate in some bewilderment. He rarely ate pasta, and the sauce seemed aggressively red. "Thank you again for cooking. You went to the store?" A rhetorical question.

"Yes. I hope that's okay. I just walked there with the stroller."

"Of course it's okay. But I have a suggestion, about that time to yourself we talked about last night, but didn't get around to hashing out." He twirled his fork in the spaghetti, and when it formed a small mound at the tips of the tines, lifted it cautiously to his mouth. The taste was better than he'd been expecting, although—maybe it was just snobbery, but he was sure he could taste the preservatives.

"Okay," Ty said, looking a little cautious. "What is it?"

"I don't think I can be flexible in the morning, but in the afternoons, I can come back an hour early. You'll be off the clock by four, and not back on until nine. I'll take care of Isabel during that time."

"Okay. Yeah, that would be enough time for me to go see my sister, too, which would be good."

Jonathan hesitated. "Well, while you can certainly spend that time however you want to. You should make yourself at home here. Rest, or...watch television, whatever you like."

Ty looked down at his plate while he stirred up his spaghetti, the tips of his ears looking a little red. "Okay."

Jonathan thought about adding that there was really no need for more dinners, either, especially spaghetti ones, but he didn't want to seem ungrateful, so he just nodded back at Ty. "Okay."

He'd thought that was that, but apparently not, because Ty said, "And food and stuff? I'd been bringing it from home, but..."

"Oh, I have a grocery order you can add to. I'll show you how to do it online. Just put in whatever you like, honestly. There's plenty of room in the fridge."

Ty looked shocked. "I can't do that."

Jonathan regarded him over another bite of pasta, then noticed that there was a plastic can of parmesan on the table, the kind that shook out of the lid in powdery particles. He contained the urge to shudder, and decided to be touched instead by Ty's efforts. He set down his fork.

"We can consider it part of your compensation, then. Which we need to discuss more, but since you're working full-time instead of half, I was thinking you should make twice as much. Or more? You're basically forced to live here, too, but..."

"You can't pay me twice as much and give me food and a place to stay!" Ty looked horrified. "I don’t need more money, honestly.”

Jonathan set his jaw. He was good at negotiations; he did them all day long, and he was rarely half this invested in the outcome. “I can’t accept that.”

Ty looked completely taken aback. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and then said, with obvious reluctance, “I'll take thirty-percent more. And we can take the food out of it."

"If you insist that meals can't be included, then I insist on paying double."

At an impasse, they regarded one another. From the cradle, Isabel watched them with an uncharacteristically grave expression.

"Deal," Ty said eventually.

"Good," Jonathan said, feeling so self-satisfied, that the next bite of the spaghetti didn't even taste so bad.