“All your cats?”
“Um hmm. I’ve had a Duane for Duane Allman, Buddy for Buddy Guy, Kenny for Kenny Wayne Sheppard, Stevie for Stevie Ray Vaughn and Jimmy for Jimmy Hendrix.”
“Christ, how many cats have you had?”
“A few.”
“You’re a nut.” He shook his head. “Where’d it come from?”
“The alley.”
He put his hands on the three-foot high wall that surrounded the roof and peered over, down into the alley below. “How the hell did it get up here?” He watched as Shannon just shrugged, all innocent like. Right. “It sure as hell didn’t climb up the wall.” He folded his arms, leaned back against the wall and glared at her.
She stayed quiet.
“Shannon?” His voice was full of warning.
Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, all right, fine. I let him in.”
“You let him in?” he asked, his brows raised.
“Yes, what’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong with it?” He stared at her a moment, dumbfounded, and then he started ticking off his fingers. “One. You don’t need to be opening the door downstairs. Two. How the hell long were you out there? And three. I don’t want a damn cat.”
“Oh, come on. Please, Crash. He’s just an itty-bitty baby. And he’s half starved. His mother must have abandoned him, or got run over by a car or something.”
Crash closed his eyes and mentally counted to ten. It didn’t work. When he opened his eyes, he was still pissed off, and the cat was still there. He tried logic on her. “You know, he’s gonna snag all your sweaters and leave cat hair all over your pants.”
She didn’t look like she was falling for it.
“Come on, Princess!” he growled in frustration.
“Crash, I’ll take care of him. I swear.”
“I’m betting your servants took care of all your cats. I’m betting you’ve never taken care of anything in your life. Why start now?”
“Ha. Ha.”
Argh. “Fine. But I’m not taking care of the damn thing.”
She was all smiles. “Thank you, Crash.”
“Yeah? Well, hold your appreciation for tonight.”
“Tonight?” She looked at him wide-eyed and innocent, as if that were possible.
“Yeah. Later tonight you can get naked and show me how grateful you are.” He stomped toward the door, slamming it behind him. He heard her call his name worriedly as he stomped down the stairs. She better be worried, because he was pretty damn sure he was only half-joking.
She followed him inside.
He moved toward the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he pulled out a beer. Shannon appeared with the kitten. She dropped it to the floor, where it looked up at him and meowed. Great. He shook his finger back and forth. “Na. Na. Na. Don’t look at me, fur-ball.” He pointed at Shannon. “There’s mama.”
Meow.
Crash took a pull off his beer and glared at Shannon. “Well, have you fed it?”
“It’s not an ‘it’. It’s a ‘he’. And yes, I fed Eddie. He had a can of your tuna fish.”