Growls.
The cat is possessed.
The cat is possessed, and she’s tugging herself with one paw like she can force her chunky little body out from under the couch through sheer willpower.
I stumble back a little.
And suddenly, alarms blare all around us.
Real, loud, shrieking alarms that are accompanied by a hint of burnt toast in the air.
The cat yowls while I dive even farther back. “Stop, demon cat,” I gasp.
Alarms.
Alarms.
The pancakes.
Oh my god,the pancakes.
Fluffy hasn’t made the alarms go off with her yowling and hissing and hidden demon powers.
I forgot I had food on the stove.
I bolt to my feet and turn, running smack into Heath.
His chin connects with my forehead with acrack, and I realize three things at once.
One, there’s smoke coming from the kitchen.
Two, Lavender’s running out of her room in pajamas, shrieking in terror.
And three, Heath is naked.
Nakednaked.
Naked and dripping wet, half-hard, and?—
Stop, stop, stop, I order my brain, but no, this is actually happening.
The cat screams at us.
Lavender throws herself at me, sobbing. “The house is on fire, Cricket,run.”
Heath dashes into the kitchen, giving me a view of two very firm ass cheeks.
“I’ll get Fluffy,” Lavender cries.
Tears stream down her face.
“Don’t touch the cat!” I cry back.
Dammit, dammit, dammit.
We can’t leave the cat in here to die.
But if Lavender gets glittered?—
