Page 11 of Getting Hitched

“Was someone with him?”

“Yeah, he brought his valet.”

Gray flipped Sanchez off. “I saw someone or something larger than a cat over there.” He pointed across the street.

“Maybe he was meeting up with a tiger gang.”

Gray scowled at her. “Seriously, did you see anyone lurking around?”

Sanchez shook her head. “Probably just someone who lives in the neighborhood. Might’ve even been out looking for the cat.”

Gray nodded. He was literally jumping at shadows. As he walked to the car, the full extent of his predicament hit him. He was soaking wet from the waist down and smelled like the juice at the bottom of a Dumpster.

“I can’t tell you how glad I am this is your car not mine,” Sanchez said as Gray settled behind the wheel.

“Thank God I’m taking tomorrow off.” He’d promised Jack and Mason he’d help them get ready for the wedding. Now, it would be a miracle if he could stay awake.

She laughed. “Yeah. By the time we get through at the station, no one’s going to want to see you for a while.”

Gray didn’t respond. He was too busy trying not to breathe.

Gray slammed the door behind him and grimaced. He’d hoped that as he dried he wouldn’t smell quite so strongly. If anything, it was getting worse.

“Ew, what’s that sme—” Jack rounded the corner into the kitchen and saw Gray. “Wow, what happened?”

Jack’s expression was an absurd combination of disgust and amusement.

“I want a shower, a whiskey, and enough pancakes to put me in a food coma for the rest of the day.”

“I’ll get the story out of you after you’re clean. Considering the circumstances, I won’t even question the need for alcohol at dawn

Mason walked into the kitchen then retreated a few steps. “Damn. You do look like you need a drink. I’m just glad you don’t want anything that involves us touching you. I could smell you all the way down the hall.”

Gray glared at Mason. “I haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours. I’m covered in God-knows-what from a downtown alley. I’ve been scratched by a cat, and the bust was a goatfuck. You do not want to piss me off right now.”

“No, sir, we don’t,” Jack said.

Mason was still standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the hall.

“Move. I need a shower.”

Mason looked like he was trying not to laugh, the bastard.

“Wait,” Jack said. He opened the cabinet under the sink, extracted a garbage bag, and held it out to Gray. “For the clothes. Maybe you should just take them off here.”

He was probably right. Gray didn’t want to risk getting this muck on anything else. He stripped off, shoved the clothes into the bag, and yanked it closed. “Burn them,” he ordered.

Jack grimaced. “That might smell even worse. I’ll take them to the Dumpster at the park.”

“Good idea,” Mason said.

“Whatever. As long as they disappear and I can’t smell them again,” Gray said as he moved past Mason and headed to the bathroom.

It took several minutes of standing under a scorching-hot shower before he started to feel human again. He scrubbed himself vigorously, except for his scratched arm. If he ever decided to leave the warm, soothing spray, he’d treat it with some antibacterial ointment.

Eventually, his stomach demanded he acquire food. So he shut off the shower, dried himself, and dressed in loose shorts and a t-shirt. It was too hot for anything else. The afternoon high the day before had been near one hundred. Even now it was in the upper eighties. The air conditioning couldn’t keep up.

He hoped to God it wouldn’t be this hot on Saturday when they had their ceremony. What the hell were they thinking holding it in August? They’d be wearing suits, for God’s sake. They’d originally intended to have it in June, but planning things that fast turned out to be unrealistic. Gray had pushed for fall, but Jack and Mason begged him to have it as soon as possible, and he couldn’t say no to them.

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