Outta the Bag by MaryJanice Davidson Read Free Book Online Page B

see—“
    “This is very dull for me.”
    “Because not everybody realizes—“
    “I require the stepladder.”
    “What?” He was participating in the conversation—he was pretty sure—but couldn’t follow it. “You want what?”
    She shook her head. “Never mind.” She stepped toward the back of the van, jerked on the handle, then climbed in when it opened.
    Great. Now he had a strange hot crazy hot woman lurking in his van.
    “Uh.” He knocked on the back window. “Will you come out of there, miss?”
    “Ah-ha!” Her butt appeared first, coming toward him. It was one of the finest butts he’d ever seen, but he got out of the way anyway.
    She emerged from the van, lugging the five foot stepladder. “My deduction was correct. Now. Assist me, Better.”
    “Call me Clive,” he said, barely catching the ladder as she tossed it to him.
    “I decline. Now.” She took the ladder, popped it open, propped it against the trunk. “Here I come, wretched beast.”
    “I kinda should be getting home,” he began.
    “You will brace this ladder or I will perform periodontal surgery on you with your plumbing tools.”
    * * *
     
    “That sounds bad,” one of his dates said.
    “It sure did. So I figured, the quicker I helped her, the quicker I could get in my van and get the Hell out.”
    “Seems sensible.”
    He sighed and nodded. “Doesn’t it?”
    “Ladies, switch! Gentlemen, keep working on your banter!”
    * * *
     
    “Obey me, revolting creature!” the blonde ordered.
    “So, you don’t know a thing about cats,” he called up, obediently bracing the ladder.
    “I know enough,” she grumped. “Stop that wretched hissing and come to me now, creature.”
    “Absolutely nothing.”
    “If you do not cease speaking to me, I will use the cat’s claws to cut out your tongue.”
    His buddies, Clive decided, could never hear about this. They would simply not understand why he wouldn’t ask the weird hottie out. You had to be there, he’d say over their hoots of derision. Sure, great to look at, tits that wouldn’t quit, sexy long legs, beautiful face, shiny gorgeous hair, but weird-weird-weird. So very weird. Boys, you’ve got no idea. None at all.
    “Almost—“ The blonde made a spooky-quick grab which, judging by Little Pat’s yowling, the animal did not appreciate. “Faugh! Wretched house pet! Push it.”
    “Push what?” My luck, he answered himself. He could have been home five minutes ago. Instead, he was holding a ladder for a crazy person and a cat that wasn’t his. Or the crazy lady’s, come to think of it!
    “Push the ladder, dolt. Although an excellent height for close-quarter combat, I am not quite tall enough to scoop up the willful feline. Or close enough.”
    “What, so just give it a shove?”
    “Yes.”
    “While you’re standing on it?”
    “Time is ticking by, Mr. Better.”
    Fine, he thought, and gave it a shove.
    * * *
     
    “Mistake,” he told his date(s).
    “She fell on you,” Hi-my-name-is-Sherry guessed.
    “I wish.”
    “The cat fell on you.”
    “That,” he sighed, “would have been nice.”
    * * *
     
    “It is slipping!”
    “The cat?”
    “The ladder,” she snapped. There was a lurch and then the ladder fell past him and crashed to the ground. He jerked back and saw the blonde was barely clinging to a thick branch, legs swinging, fingers laced but slipping. “Disgusting beast,” she snarled. “If I concuss myself, I shall skin you alive.”
    “I hope you’re talking to the cat—whoa.”
    The blonde had done something—he hadn’t had the best view but it was quick and athletic, whatever it was—and now she was hanging upside down by her legs. Her head swung back and forth, a foot above his.
    “Shiro’s sleeping! Ha!”
    “Uh, can you come down? If I put the ladder back up, will you be able to—hey!”
    She’d playfully snatched at him, and he felt his cap disappear. She jammed it on her own head and was now swinging gently back-and-forth,