Chapter 3 - Ace

One second, I was cursing under my breath about Goose slipping out again, and the next, I was staring up at the gate just in time to see a blur of curls and corduroy come flying over the top.

I reacted on instinct, arms shooting out. She crashed into me hard enough to knock the air from my lungs, but I caught her before she hit the ground.

“The weather report called for snow showers,” I muttered, staggering a step back under her weight, “not for it to be raining women.”

Her eyes went wide, big, dark, and framed with lashes that looked too perfect to be real. Her cheeks flushed pink, partly from the cold and partly, I was guessing, from the fact that she had just literally fallen into my arms.

“Oh meu Deus,” she gasped, hands clutching at my shoulders like she wasn’t sure if she should hold on or push off. Then words started pouring out of her mouth at lightning speed. “Desculpa, desculpa, eu só, tinha que pegar o gato, ele me trouxe aqui, eu não pensei…”

I blinked at her, the stream of Portuguese washing over me like static. I caught maybe one word, gato, which I knew meant cat, but that was about it. Clay, my sister Xenia’s fiancé, sometimes used Portuguese around us because his stepmom was Brazilian, so I wasn’t totally lost. But this? This was a tidal wave.

“Whoa, slow down,” I said, tightening my grip just enough to set her on her feet. She wobbled a little, curls bouncing into her face. “English? Preferably?”

She froze, then sucked in a breath like she’d just remembered where she was. “Right. Sorry. English.” Her accent curled around the words, warm and musical. “The cat. Was he yours?”

I followed her gaze to Goose, who was sitting a few feet away, tail curled neatly around his paws, golden eyes gleaming with smug satisfaction. He meowed like he was laughing at us.

“Yeah,” I said dryly. “That’s my cat. Goose. The pain in my ass.”

Her eyes darted between me and Goose, and then she did something I absolutely did not expect. She squinted at me, tilting her head like she was trying to puzzle something out.

“Wait,” she said slowly. “Are you… the cat?”

I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You know, like…” She flapped her hands around, searching for the words. “Like in Whisper of the Heart. Or, oh! Or like a cat shifter. Are you him? Because he led me here, and then you caught me, and, ”

I stared at her. “You think I’m… a shapeshifting cat?”

Her face lit up, her notebook dangling from her bag, pages sticking out like feathers. “It would make sense, wouldn’t it? Mysterious cat leads girl to her destiny. A girl finds a handsome man with suspiciously cat-like reflexes. Boom. Plot twist.”

Behind us, Dez let out a wheezing laugh, and Nas muttered, “Oh my God, she’s crazier than Goose.”

I groaned, scrubbing a hand over my face. “Lady, I am not a cat. I’m just the idiot who adopted one.”

Still, when she smiled, bright and a little unhinged, something in my chest tightened.

I lowered my hand from my face, trying to get a grip, but the girl wasn’t making it easy. She looked like she’d just stepped out of a wind tunnel, wild curls framing her flushed cheeks, a scarf tangled halfway around her neck, and her notebook clutched to her chest like it was a life preserver. Goose, the little traitor, pranced right over and curled around her ankles, purring like he’d known her forever.

“See?” she said triumphantly, pointing down at him. “This poor gato brought me here. I couldn’t just let him get lost.”

“Gato,” I repeated slowly. “That means cat, right?”

“Yes!” Her eyes lit up like I’d solved some great mystery. “Exactly. I was following him. Like in Whisper of the Heart.”

I blinked at her. “Whisper of the what now?”

Her jaw dropped. She clutched her notebook tighter like I’d just insulted her family. “Whisper of the Heart, the Studio Ghibli movie! You’ve never seen it?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“Oh meu Deus.” She threw her head back, groaning like this was a personal tragedy. “It is one of the most important films about inspiration and following your dreams ever made. There’s this scene where the girl sees a cat on the train, just sitting there like a person, and she follows him. And that decision, that one little moment of curiosity, changes everything about her life.”

Her words tumbled out so fast I barely had time to keep up. She gestured with her hands, curls bouncing as she leaned toward me. Her accent wrapped around the words, Portuguese slipping in at the edges.

“The cat leads her to this antique shop, where she finds inspiration again. And that inspiration pushes her to take risks, to find her own voice, to…” She broke off, cheeks flushed, then pressed her notebook to her chest. “It’s…it’s beautiful.”

I stared at her, trying to process. “So you’re telling me you climbed a locked gate, ripped your pants, and nearly cracked your head open because you thought my cat was… what? Some animated destiny?”

“Yes!” she said, eyes wide, dead serious. “Exactly.”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed. It burst out before I could stop it, echoing across the bay. Dez and Nas were already snickering from their spots by the truck, and Tomás shook his head with that dry little smile he always had. Goose twined tighter around her legs, looking smug as hell.

“You’re insane,” I said finally, grinning despite myself. “Completely, utterly insane.”

She sniffed, offended, but there was a spark of mischief in her eyes. “Maybe. But insane people are the ones who write stories worth reading.”

Her words caught me off guard, sharper than I expected. There was something under all that chaos, something real. She wasn’t just some kooky stranger babbling about cats and destiny. She believed every word, and for some reason, it made me want to believe too.

I didn’t even get the chance to figure out what the hell to say next because Dez’s voice carried across the bay like a damn trumpet.

“Yo, Rosario! Didn’t know you had a girlfriend already!” He leaned against the truck with a grin so wide it should’ve been illegal, his eyes flicking between me and the girl still clutching her notebook.

“She broke in,” Nas added, cracking up. “Over the gate. That’s some real dedication. Haven’t seen that kind of effort since Tomás’s wife agreed to marry him.”

Tomás, calm as ever, just raised his brows. “At least this one brought her own pen. You know, in case she has to sign waivers for trespassing.” His dry delivery got a round of snickers.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “She’s not my girlfriend. I don’t even know who she is.”

That got me a sharp look from her. She straightened, curls bouncing, eyes flashing like I’d just offended her honor. “Excuse me! I am Carolina Alves.” She jabbed her pen against her notebook like she was underlining her own name. “Writer. Observer. Chaser of gatos.”

“Chaser of gatos?” Dez echoed, practically choking on laughter.

“Yes,” she said firmly, chin high. “And I’m here because of him.” She pointed straight at Goose, who had flopped onto his back, paws in the air like he knew he was the star of the show.

Captain Lou appeared in the doorway of her office just then, arms crossed, gaze sweeping the scene. Her brow arched in that way that made even the toughest guys in the house straighten up. “Rosario,” she said evenly. “Want to explain why there’s a civilian climbing my gates like Spider-Man?”

Before I could answer, Carolina jumped in. “It’s my fault. The cat was leading me. He is… how do I say…” She searched for the words, then beamed. “My destiny.”

Lou’s lips twitched like she was fighting a smile. She shook her head and muttered something about rookies attracting trouble before disappearing back into her office.

“Destiny, huh?” Nas grinned. “Sounds like true love to me.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, heat creeping up the back of my neck.

Carolina, meanwhile, had already crouched to scribble something in her notebook, muttering in Portuguese under her breath. She popped back up, pen poised, eyes on me. “So. Goose, yes? How long have you had him?”

I blinked. “Three months. Why?”

She scribbled furiously. “Three months… good. And he is how old now?”

“Three months,” I repeated slowly. “Got him from my sister when he was weaned.”

More scribbles. She nodded like this was very important. “Does he like tuna? Or chicken? Or maybe he is more of a sardine gato?”

I stared at her. “Is there going to be a test on this later?”

She grinned, teeth flashing, eyes bright with something halfway between mischief and sincerity. “Maybe.”

The guys lost it again, laughter echoing around the bay, and I wanted to be annoyed, I really did. But instead, I felt something else, this strange, reluctant pull in my chest. She was chaos wrapped in curls and a notebook, and for reasons I couldn’t explain, I wanted to see what else she was going to write down about me.

Carolina finally lowered her pen, crouching to scoop Goose off the floor before he could roll under the truck and vanish again. He purred like a little engine, batting his paws at her curls as she tucked him against her chest.

“Você é tão fofinho,” she whispered to him, pressing her cheek to his head. Goose melted into her arms like he’d known her forever. Which was insulting, really. He’d never been that calm in mine.

“Traitor,” I muttered.

She looked up, eyes sparkling, like she’d forgotten we were all still standing there watching. “He’s perfect. You’re very lucky.”

“Lucky isn’t the word I’d use,” I grumbled, crossing my arms. “More like cursed. He’s been chaos since day one. Climbs curtains, knocks over coffee, sets off alarms, ”

“But he led me here,” she interrupted, smiling down at him as if that explained everything.

Dez snorted. “Sounds like fate to me.”

I shot him a look that should’ve burned his eyebrows off, but Carolina didn’t notice. She was too busy nuzzling Goose, murmuring things in Portuguese that sounded suspiciously affectionate. Goose soaked it up, purring louder, tiny paw curled into her scarf.

Finally, she seemed to remember he wasn’t hers. She looked reluctant, but she shifted him carefully into my arms. Goose went without protest, the little jerk. She smoothed a hand over his back before pulling away, almost like she didn’t want to let go.

“There,” she said softly. “Safe and sound.”

I held Goose against my chest, scratching behind his ear to cover the weird tightness in mine. “Yeah. Safe. For now.”

She lingered, standing there in the middle of the bay with her notebook still clutched tight. Her curls were wild from the wind, her cheeks pink, her scarf half coming undone, but her eyes sparkled like she’d just stumbled into a treasure chest. I caught myself staring longer than I should have, and it made me shift my weight, uncomfortable in a way I couldn’t name.

“Well,” she said finally, clearing her throat. “Thank you for catching me. And for not… calling the police, I guess.” She gave a little nervous laugh, tucking her pen behind her ear.

Nas leaned against the truck, smirking. “Rosario’s too soft for that.”

She tilted her head, curiosity flickering across her face. “Rosario,” she repeated. “Is that what everyone calls you?”

I shrugged, adjusting Goose in my arms. “It’s my last name.”

Her lips curved, but she didn’t push for more. Instead, she hugged her notebook to her chest, gave Goose one last longing look, and took a step back toward the gate. “Okay. Well… até logo, Goose.”

Goose meowed like he understood, and she smiled again, bright, nervous, a little shy this time. Then she turned and headed out, curls bouncing, scarf trailing behind her.

I watched her go, even when I told myself not to. I didn’t know her. Didn’t even get her name, though she’d said it earlier in the chaos. But something about the way she’d looked at Goose, like he was magic instead of trouble, stuck with me.

I caught myself thinking something I hadn’t in a long time.

I hoped she came back.