“What every bride wants to hear on her wedding day,” she said, squeezing into the house.
Ryder’s laughter followed her into the bedroom. She changed into a threadbare pale blue tank top and some yoga pants covered in paint splatters. Twisting her hair into a knot, she headed into the bathroom and removed all the linens and throw rugs. Less to get splattered with stink and tomato sauce. In the kitchen, she found four large cans of tomato juice—she could never resist a sale. She eyed a large jug of imported tomato sauce a student had given her for the holidays and grabbed it, too. Hopefully that would be enough. Tom was just a kitten, after all. A kitten with a lion-size stink.
She carried it all back to the bathroom, calling out, “Ready.”
* * *
TOM WAS CURLED up against Ryder’s chest, the power of the kitten’s purrs surprising.
“Try making friends with a squirrel or a rabbit next time, will ya?” Ryder said, staring down into the adoring yellow eyes of the kitten he held. “They don’t spray.”
Annabeth’s voice was muffled as she said, “Ready.”
Tom’s ears perked up and he turned toward the door, mewing once.
Ryder grinned. “You only think you wanna go in there.” He pushed through the front door and headed straight into the bathroom.
Annabeth was there, practically naked in her skintight get up. He almost dropped the cat.
“Close the door.” She waved him over, covering her nose with one hand. “Anything to contain the scent from the rest of the house.”
He kicked the door shut behind him, sealing himself into the small room with a reeking cat and the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. And she did look beautiful, with her hair piled up in a messy knot and her huge hazel eyes peering over her hand. How could he be holding a skunk-coated cat and still want to kiss her? Hell, all he wanted to do was pull her against him and tug her hair free...
He had it bad. He needed to find a way to blow off some steam—and soon. “I got this,” he growled.
Annabeth rolled her eyes, making the urge to kiss her that much stronger. “You can’t hold him and wash him.” She bent over the tub to pick up one of the cans of tomato juice. The sight of her rear made him groan. She popped up, holding a can. “Where do you want me?”
He stared at the ceiling, biting back a half dozen inappropriate suggestions before he bit out, “Bathtub.”
She climbed in, scooting to the back of the tub, a can of tomato juice at the ready.
Ryder knelt on the floor beside the tub, holding Tom away from him. “You behave,” he warned the cat.
“It’s going to be okay, Tom.” Annabeth’s soothing tones caught the kitten’s attention—and his. She smiled at the kitten then looked at Ryder. “You ready?”
He nodded, holding the kitten away from his body. He gripped Tom by the scruff of the neck, the other hand supporting the kitten’s back legs.
Annabeth filled her hand with tomato juice and rubbed it into Tom’s back.
And the kitten went crazy. Yowling, flying claws, growls, the little thing was in full panic.
Ryder kept a firm grip while Annabeth attempted to coat every inch of Tom. She rubbed juice in as thoroughly as the flailing limbs and claws would allow. Ryder watched, impressed with how unflinchingly she worked. Tomato juice spattered the front of her blue tank top and forehead, but she kept at it. She ignored the claw that scratched her forearm, working until every inch of Tom dripped tomato juice.
“You look like something from a horror movie.” He laughed. “Both of you.” It was true. Her shirt and pants and face had multiple tomato spatters—but it could almost be blood. Tom looked drowned and acted possessed.
Annabeth glared. “You should talk.”
“Looks like we’re all going to need a shower.” He winked at her. “Wanna take one together?”
“Are you seriously hitting on me?” She kept rubbing tomato juice on Tom, and Tom kept yowling. “Now? While the cat is screaming bloody murder?”
He shrugged. “Bad timing?”
She laughed then, so surprised she slipped back, spilling tomato juice all over her shirt and pants. “Damn it!” She was still laughing.
“You okay?” Ryder shifted the kitten, making sure not to let go.
“Fine.” She sat up, taking a deep breath and covering her nose with the back of her now dripping hand. “Yuck.” She stared down at the pool of tomato juice in her lap.