Time for a Duke (12 page)

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Authors: Ruth J. Hartman

BOOK: Time for a Duke
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Gaze glued to the bathroom door, she was down so far that she could only make out top edge of the door. Another thump sent her even lower in the water. Any lower and she’d drown.

Death by bathtub water.

Woman dies in claw-footed tub.

Former Hoosier travels all the way to Texas to die a drippy death.

Her breath caught in her throat when the door opened. She waited. What should she do? Scream? Yell? Do water aerobics? Something poked above the rim. Oh no they’d found her! Even though the bath water was still warm, her skin felt icy.

She stared at the tiny, wispy hairs. Had someone snuck in and crouched down beside the tub? Was that the top of their head? Then she squinted and tilted her head. Wait. Was that a…? Two orange ears followed by two green eyes rose over the edge.

She sat up against the back of the tub, willing her heart rate back down. Bath water swirled around her in tiny tide pools. “Gordon! You scared the life out of me! If I died of fright, who do you think would feed you? Besides, I thought you were mad at me. And your moods usually last longer than this.”

The orange ears and green eyes disappeared. Lanna peered over the side. What a goofball. Her cat was lying on his back with all four fluffy feet in the air. Waiting.

“Gordon, you snuck in here and scared me just so I’d rub your belly? What were you thinking?”

He looked at her expectantly, his green eyes wide.

“But my hands are wet. You wouldn’t like it.”

Gordon purred.

“I’m telling you, you’ll get mad if I get water on you.”

He closed his eyes and waited.

Lanna sighed. “I’m going to regret this. I just know it.” She shook the water off of her hands the best she could. The towel was too far away for her to reach without stepping out of the tub, and that would get Gordon wet.

Flicking a couple more drops from her fingers, she reached down and placed her hand on Gordon’s tummy. The cat’s eyes popped open. In one smooth movement, he flipped over and landed square on all four paws. He glared at her and hissed. Running out of the room, he left a trail of water droplets in his wake.

Lanna sighed. Now she’d have to find some way to make it up to him. And his standards were high. A pat on the head and ‘Aren’t you a pretty kitty?’ wouldn’t do. Life was tough for a single cat-mom.

 

 

Astraea Press

 

Pure. Fiction.

 

www.astraeapress.com

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