Wicked Appetite (Lizzy and Diesel 1)

Diesel pulled to the curb, got out of the SUV, yanked Carl out of his booster chair, set him on the roof rack, and got back behind the wheel.

“Omigosh,” I said. “You can’t leave him up there. He’ll blow away.”

“I’ll drive slow,” Diesel said. “I won’t go over fifty.”

Two blocks later, we were at the bakery. We all jumped out and looked up at Carl. He was soaking wet, gripping the roof-rack rail with his hands and tail. He sat up and gave Diesel the finger.

“It’s a good thing I’m not a violent person,” Diesel said, looking at Carl. “We’re going into the bakery,” he said to him. “Are you coming?”

Carl gave him the finger and stayed on the SUV roof, and the rest of us went inside. Clara was behind the counter, her face frozen into a grimace at the sight of three people and a broom dripping on her floor.

“I rescued the broom,” Glo said to Clara, setting it in the corner.

“Maybe you should put it in your car,” Clara told her. “I just fixed my window. In fact, maybe you should drive the broom back to the Exotica lady and trade it in.”

Glo got a box and filled it with cupcakes for Diesel. Water ran off her sleeve and puddled in the display case and at her feet. “I know this makes no sense at all, but I kind of like the broom. And I think it might be starting to like me.”

“No charge for the cupcakes if you promise to leave immediately,” Clara said. “I don’t want to have to explain the monkey on your car to my customers.”

We took our cupcakes and squished out of the bakery. It was raining hard, and Carl was hunched on the SUV roof looking half-drowned and cranky.

“Would you like to ride inside?” Diesel asked Carl.

Carl shrugged.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Diesel said, lifting Carl off the roof and stuffing him into the backseat.

I buckled myself in with the cupcake box on my lap and crossed my arms to keep warm. The wet was getting to me. “I’m done,” I said. “I’m soaked, and I’m cold, and I’m not having any fun.”

“Understood,” Diesel said. “We’re going home.”

Two blocks from the bakery, Diesel rolled the window down and squinted against the rain blowing in.

“I can’t stand it,” he said. “The car smells like wet monkey.”

Zzzzt. Easy Cheese shot past Diesel’s ear and stuck to the windshield. I turned and glared at Carl. He was pressing the Easy Cheese nozzle, but nothing was happening. He was out of Easy Cheese.

“I told you not to put him on the roof rack,” I said to Diesel.

“My mistake wasn’t putting him on the roof rack,” Diesel said. “It was letting him back inside.”

We parked at the curb and walked around the house to the kitchen door. By the time we were inside, we were drenched again and dripping water by the bucketful. Cat came to welcome us, sniffed at Carl, and growled low in his throat. I couldn’t blame him. Carl smelled really bad. It turns out wet monkey isn’t a great aroma.

“We need to do something with Carl,” I said to Diesel. “He’s got Easy Cheese and Froot Loops stuck in his fur, and he smells like a sick water buffalo.”

Diesel filled the kitchen sink with warm water, dunked Carl in it, and soaped him up with dish detergent. He rinsed him off, I wrapped him in a towel and rubbed him dry. When I turned him loose, he was lemon fresh and weirdly fluffy.

“Maybe we should have used a conditioner on him,” I said to Diesel.

Carl smelled his arm and picked at his fur. “Eeee.”

I was no longer dripping, but I was still wet to the bone. I kicked my shoes into a corner and peeled my socks off. “I’m taking a shower. I’m going to stand under the hot water until I’m as red as a lobster.”

Diesel selected a cupcake from the box. “I’m right behind you.”

“You don’t mean that literally, do you? I mean, you aren’t planning on sharing a shower with me, are you?”

Diesel glanced over at me. “Is that a possibility?”