room and up the large staircase where they disappeared.
“What a pair,” Max said, still laughing.
“Yes, they are entertaining,” Savannah agreed.
“So how does Rags and the little Himmie fit into the scheme of things here?” Max wanted to know.
“They stay out of the way when those two decide to play,” Michael said.
Savannah chuckled. “Rags and Buffy have teamed up. But they’re quite the odd couple. Buffy is so prim and fastidious. Rags is lackadaisical. She likes routine and loves to laze around in someone’s lap. He thrives on adventure and, as you know, has bundles of energy and some rather creative habits. She was kind of a loner, wasn’t she, Michael, before Rags came along?” He nodded and she continued, “Now she follows him around, plays with him and even lets him sleep in her pink canopy bed.”
“Now there’s a vision I can’t quite wrap my brain around—that long-legged cat of yours curled up in a pink foo-foo bed…” Margaret said with a laugh.
“Yeah, it is rather humorous,” Michael agreed. Then he explained, “He’s still king pin around here. It was Rags’s home first, you know.”
“Oh yes, I know,” Margaret said. “He took over as soon as he and Savannah moved in here with me last year.” She placed the cobbler in the oven and turned to face the others. “He wouldn’t leave my stuff alone—had to get married and move it all over to Max’s place.”
Max stiffened and frowned at his wife. “You married me to get away from Rags?”
Margaret laughed, walked over behind Max and put her hands on his shoulders. “Just kidding.” She looked at Savannah and asked, “Does he still steal things?”
“Uh, sure does, Auntie.” Savannah grimaced. “In fact, I think I see him snooping in your purse.”
“Drats.” Margaret dashed into the living room. Everyone laughed. “Oh no you don’t,” they heard her say. “What do you have, Rags? Bring that back, you bad boy.”
“Oh dear, I’d better go intervene,” Savannah said, preparing to move her leg off the chair.
Max stood. “No stay here. I’ll go.”
“So what did he take?” Savannah asked when she saw Margaret and Max return with big grins on their faces.
“Nothing,” Margaret said, walking into the pantry in search of ground coffee.
Max sat down, leaned back and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Nothing, my eye. You could have poisoned him with that thing. You really shouldn’t be leaving something like that down where a cat like Rags can get it. He did save your life once, you know.”
Margaret set the canister of coffee on the counter. She stood silent for a moment, remembering. No, she would never forget Rags’s part in saving her and Savannah from that crazy kidnapper. “Yes, he did,” she said.
She turned to face the others, tugging a little at the hem of her loose-flowing, purple-print blouse. “No. I would not want to harm one whisker on his little face.” She then tightened her mouth in staunch determination. “But I don’t need him stealing my stuff, either.”
“Then put your stuff out of his reach,” Max scolded good naturedly, his brown eyes twinkling under heavy, dark brows.
Margaret raised her arms. “And where is that? Where is, ‘out of his reach,’ pray tell?”
Max looked across the table at Savannah. “Good question. Do you have an answer?”
She addressed her aunt: “Sure, inside a closet or one of the rooms where you changed those lever door handles to knobs. He could certainly open the lever-handled doors, but not those with knobs.”
“We’ll have to build a closet just for women’s purses,” Michael joked.
Margaret, who had finished making the coffee, took her seat. She looked over at Michael. “Speaking of your projects, how’s the renovation going?”
“Good. I’m really enjoying the work.” He smiled. “This place is a tinkerer’s dream house.”
She leaned forward and looked squarely in his eyes. “Now tell me, have
Sex Retreat [Cowboy Sex 6]
Jarrett Hallcox, Amy Welch