“Well...thank you. I guess I could return the favor, but I’m sure you’ve had plenty of women go on about all of your praiseworthy assets. I wouldn’t want to inflate your already healthy ego.”
“All, huh?” He was grinning as he pulled his truck into her driveway next to Lady Blue.
“Exactly.” She was laughing as she pushed open the car door.
And that’s when the smell hit her. Nothing else smelled quite like it. Skunk.
“Don’t see anything on the road.” Ryder came around the front of the truck. “But it’s somewhere close.”
She nodded, her stomach instantly reacting to the fumes. “There goes my appetite.” She shoved the bag with their breakfast into his hands and covered her nose, running to the porch steps.
And there, curled in a ball, was Tom. He was shivering, his pathetic mews instantly plucking at her heartstrings.
“How did you get out?” she said to the terrified kitten, stooping down to scoop the little fur ball into her arms. But the smell was so strong her eyes began to sting. That’s when she noticed how matted and wet Tom’s fur was. “Oh, no...”
“Up to no good, Tom?” Ryder was behind her. “I’ll get him.”
“I won’t argue with you.” She took a step back, her stomach roiling, nostrils burning and eyes watering fiercely. “I’ve got some tomato juice. And some tomato sauce, too, I think.”
Ryder handed her back the bag containing their breakfast. “We’ll need it—don’t let him in the house. I’ll get my gloves.” Ryder made his way to his truck and popped open the lid of the large metal toolbox. “If you can squeeze by him, you might want to prep the bathroom.”
Considering their strange beginnings, giving a kitten a tomato bath on her wedding day didn’t seem all that out of place. She took a step toward the door and Tom leaped forward.
“Here’s the thing,” she said to the cat. “That mean old skunk is gone, so you’re safe now. But I can’t let you in the house smelling like that, Tom, sorry. The worst part’s over.”
Ryder returned, wearing a worn yellow raincoat and some well-used leather gloves. “He might disagree with you once the tomato juice bath starts.” Ryder picked up the kitten, wrinkling his nose. “Whew-y. We’ll wait here. You might want to change, too. Things are going to get loud and messy.”
“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.
“Time for a rinse?” he asked, turning on the warm water. He pulled the detachable showerhead free and offered it to her. “Ready?”
He pushed the pin in on the faucet and water sprayed from the handheld shower nozzle.
“Ryder,” she squeaked. “I wasn’t ready.”
She was dripping wet, so was the ceiling. And the cat, and the small mirror over the sink.
“Ready now?” he asked, trying hard not to laugh.
She glared at him, shaking her hands at him and spattering him with tomato juice and water. “Yes,” she hissed, aiming the nozzle at him.
“Hey, hey.” He shook his head, holding the still-wailing Tom in front of him. “Aim for him.”
“You’ve got a little something right there.” She pointed at his chin.
“Let’s get him taken care of first.” He used his pickup voice, all low and coaxing. “Poor little guy could get a chill.”
Annabeth rolled her eyes again, but immediately began rinsing Tom. A little baby shampoo and the cat was clean. He placed the kitt
en on the bathroom counter and started rubbing the squirming kitten brusquely with the one towel she’d left in the bathroom. “Hope you haven’t lost your appetite?” he asked, looking back at her.
She stood, rinsing herself off with the showerhead. Her pale blue tank top was plastered to her, giving him a good view of her breasts. He’d imagined her, plenty of times, remembering the full weight of her curves beneath his hurried hands. But seeing her, knowing his fantasy didn’t come close to the woman who was now his wife, did something to his insides.
“Well, hello there,” Annabeth said to Tom, who was straddling the side of the tub, swatting at water drops. “You survived.” The kitten mewed as she picked him up and sniffed him. Her nose wrinkled. “Better than it was, but...”
She was staring at him. He was standing there, gripping the damn towel, staring right back. In a yellow raincoat. What the hell was the matter with him? “Need a towel?”
“Sure,” she murmured, her cheeks turning red as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Thanks.”
He opened the bathroom door and Tom skittered out. “You go on and shower,” he murmured, pulling two towels from the built-in cabinet outside the bathroom and placing them on the counter. “I’ll finish getting Tom dry and warm up our breakfast.” He pulled the door shut and stood there, staring at the door.
Chapter Eight
Annabeth wiped the steam off the small bathroom mirror and looked at herself. Her breathing was uneven and her stomach twisted. Not because the lingering scent of skunk still hung in the air, but because of the look in Ryder’s eyes. She didn’t know what to think. Was she seeing what she wanted to see? Or was Ryder attracted to her? Could he actually see her, want her, as a woman?
She combed through her wet hair, tucked the towel tightly around her chest and opened the bathroom door. Tom was sitting right outside, his fur sticking up every which way.
He mewed at her, weaving his way between her ankles.
“Glad you don’t hold a grudge,” she spoke softly, smiling down at the kitten.
“Starting a load of laundry,” Ryder called from the kitchen. “Wanna hand me your clothes and the towel?”
She peered around the corner to find Ryder pulling off his shirt and throwing it into the washing machine. The muscles in his back shifted and the waistband of his pants slipped low. His body was amazing, strong and capable and completely mind-blowing.
Swallowing, she hurried back into the bathroom, snatching her clothes and towels. Why was the sight of a shirtless Ryder getting her all flustered? She shot a look at her reflection. She’d been without a man for five years. No dating. No flirting. Nothing. Now she had someone who looked as though he’d stepped out of a muscle magazine stripping in her kitchen. Add in her raging pregnancy hormones and it made sense that she was a little disconcerted.
She strode back into the kitchen and shoved everything into the washing machine. But when she spun around, Ryder was staring at her.
She met his gaze. “Your turn.” It shouldn’t matter that she was wearing only a towel; she didn’t have anything to put on after her shower. And she looked like a drowned rat.
The muscle in his jaw bulged. “My turn?”
“Shower.” She swallowed. “It’s all yours.”
His attention wandered to her mouth. “You want to wash my back?” He reached for her, the pad of his thumb running along the curve of her neck.
She froze, fighting the slight shiver that ran along her spine. She would not press herself against the expansive wall of muscle that was his chest.
He took a step closer, one hand resting along her shoulder, the other cupped her cheek.
Her lungs emptied and her heart kicked into overdrive. They were half-naked in the kitchen. And she wanted him to kiss her more than anything.
But that couldn’t happen. She couldn’t let it happen. Kissing Ryder would only add to the confusion. They needed to talk—to come up with a plan. Now. A clearheaded plan without this newfound attraction muddying up the water. It was hard to push her longing aside, hard to resist the pull between them. But she had to. “I’m hungry,” she blurted out.
He grinned. “In the microwave.”
She turned, putting some much-needed space between them. “Thanks for starting the laundry.”
“Got some clean clothes on the bike.” He pointed toward the door. “Be back.” He was out the front door before she could stop him. Out the front door, with his shirt off. If Mrs. Lavender saw him like that, everyone in Stonewall Crossing would hear about it. Then again, they were married now. It really shouldn’t matter if he sat on the front porch in his boxers...
Married.
She was Ryder’s wife.
She had to tell Cody.
She had to tell the Major and Judy, Greg’s parents. She wanted to tell them in person—a phone call wouldn’t do. They were the only parents she’d had since Flo’s battle with dementia set in. Without them, she wouldn’t be able to work the hours the principal position required. They looked forward to their weekend visits with their only grandson and loved it when she called for their help. She knew they needed Cody to keep Greg close to them. And, whether or not Ryder was in the picture, she had every intention of keeping that bond strong.
Ryder came back into the kitchen, pausing at the sight of her. Still wrapped in a towel standing in the kitchen. “Rethinking washing my back?” His pale blue eyes sparkled.
“No.” She rolled her eyes. “I was thinking about Cody. And the Major and Judy.”
Ryder’s grin dimmed. “How are we going to tell them?”
“We?” His instant assumption that he’d be part of the conversation was a pleasant surprise.
He leaned against the door frame, his leather saddlebag gripped in one hand. It was impossible not to notice the play of muscles in his arm. “We.”
“I was thinking about asking them for dinner tomorrow night? When they drop off Cody?” she suggested. “With Flo?”
He nodded. “Sounds good. You gonna eat?”
“I should probably get dressed first.” She glanced down. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“Cut yourself a break, Princess. You can’t expect to come out of skunk duty looking dolled up.”
She shook her head, suddenly exhausted. She yawned.
“I like the outfit.” He pushed off the door frame, dropping a kiss on her temple before heading into the bathroom. “I just need to figure out how to get you out of it.”
She shivered. He was teasing, she could hear it in his voice. “You’re incredible.”
“I’ve heard that before. Eat your pancakes. Then we’ll take a nap.”
A nap sounded too good to resist. “Then we talk.”
He winked at her, pulling the door closed behind him.
She pressed the reheat button on the microwave and went to her bedroom, then slipped into a long cotton nightie and fuzzy socks. As she walked back into the kitchen, she heard Ryder humming in the shower. She was smiling as she sat down to her pancakes.
* * *
RYDER STARED DOWN at Annabeth. She was sound asleep, her long lashes resting against her cheeks. She’d kicked the quilts down to her knees and her thin nightgown did little to hide her stomach. His baby was in there.
After his shower and his late breakfast, he’d climbed into bed with her. He’d been working himself to death to wear himself out. He needed a nap as much as she did...and he couldn’t pass up the chance to hold her. She’d been stiff, refusing to relax against him until she fell asleep. Once she’d drifted off, she had no problem wrapping herself around him. He closed his eyes, enjoying every second. The feel of her hand on his bare stomach. The whisper of her breath on his chest. The silk of her hair against his neck. Her scent, her little sounds and movements—she was driving him crazy.
He’d slipped from the bed and wandered through the kitchen. He folded the laundry, pulled on his clean clothes and poured himself a glass of orange juice. On the refrigerator door hung a brightly colored picture of a tree house. He smiled at Cody’s creation. He knew the tree. It was a perfect tree house tree.
And he knew the house. The crudely drawn lilac-blue house in the picture was the perfect family house—a storybook house. Annabeth had always loved the Czinkovic place. When they were kids riding their bikes around town, she’d stop there. She’d had a plan, pointing out each window and explaining what each room would be if it was her house. Greg would nod, listening intently to every word she said. But Ryder hadn’t understood her fascination with the place. Now he did. She’d wanted the family that lived there, not just the walls they lived in. She’d wanted everything he’d had and wanted to get away from.
He slipped out the back door of the house, careful not to disturb her. There was no fence, so he wasn’t sure where Annabeth’s yard ended and the Czinkovic house property line began. But a row of red-tipped petunias, two magnolia trees and several fruit trees made a sort of natural fence line. Cody’s massive oak tree sat in the middle of the house’s backyard. He stared up, seeing Cody’s design in the sprawling limbs of the old tree.
He turned, assessing the house. It seemed to be in good shape, but he suspected it would need a thorough inspection. Some updates would be needed—wiring and plumbing. No signs of foundation concerns, but it would need lots of TLC.
He walked the property, sizing it up. Taking notes...
They would need a place to grow. Chances were his dad would offer him property on the ranch to build, like he had with his brothers. But he’d always liked his space. Being in town, near Annabeth’s work and Cody’s school, made the most sense. Staying in Annabeth’s teeny-tiny house didn’t.
Once he’d written down the Realtor’s name and number, he headed back to Annabeth’s house. The yard needed raking, so he pulled open the shed and set to work. Most of her tools were in terrible shape. From the look of the lawn mower, he’d have to put more than elbow grease into it to get it running. He dug through the small shed until he found an old metal rake. Its handle was splintered and rough, but Annabeth had put a few layers of duct tape over the worst spots to keep using it. It made him smile, to see how resourceful she was. She knew how to take care of herself, without all the fancy bells and whistles. Not Annabeth. No, she made do with what she had—with a smile on her face. They may not have planned any of this, but he’d never had anything feel so right, so fast. He pulled on his work gloves and set to raking the leaves from the front yard.
Twins for the Rebel Cowboy Page 9