Page 95 of Jackrabbit

There was a sound like something crashing farther back in the house, a sort of repeated hollow thud. Colt froze. Was Beau alright? The thud came again, along with some splashing, and Toast’s ears swiveled toward the hall. Probably not Beau falling into a table full of plastic hangers if it happened twice in a row.

Three times.

What the hell?

Toast chittered.

“Baby,” Colt cooed, limping to Toast's perch on a bookshelf that had no books on it because they were all scattered on the ground where Toast had left them. “You making a mess?”

Toast opened his mouth on a silent meow, and Colt patted his own shoulder. “Come here. Be my parrot so your dad can't force me to work out while I'm literally on my deathbed.”

Shifting his paws and purring, Toast eyed the spot Colt was urging him toward. He hunched and reached out with one furry arm, but before he could make contact, a big hand intercepted.

“No.” Beau picked Toast up with both hands and cradled him against his chest. Colt frowned as Toast melted and purred, rubbing his face against Beau’s shirt while Beau scratched behind his ears. “Don't look at me like that. This cat is the size of a damn dog. You're already hurting. How you think you're gonna feel with him using your shoulders like a balance beam?”

“Probably better than I'm gonna feel after you torture me with training as retribution for the run yesterday.” Colt scratched under Toast’s chin, and Toast grabbed his fingers to pull them into his mouth for gentle nibbles. “What areyou doing back there anyway? A thousand mouse traps? Ping pong balls you get to throw at me while I try to dodge?”

Beau couldn't quite hide the amused crinkle to his eyes, but he tried as he turned and set Toast back on the shelf. “You're real weird, boy.”

“You're the one with a thousand mouse traps in your house.”

Shaking his head, Beau gestured for Colt to follow him down the hall.

To his bedroom.

Nope. No. It was not going to be that easy.

Was it going to be that easy?

But Beau led him past that gloriously soft bed with the covers that smelled like Beau and into the bathroom instead. Which, okay. Weird. There were plastic bags stacked in the trash can, a standing towel warmer in mint green next to the tub, and the tub was full of—

“I am not getting in an ice bath!” Colt backed up, already fucking cold from thinking about it. “We are inArizona, Beau. Zero interest in a polar plunge.”

“You're in pain.” Beau took a step toward him.

“I'll live.”

“Heard you say ‘I'm gonna actually die’ four times today.”

Colt retreated another step, his heel on the threshold between the bathroom and bedroom. “I'm dramatic!”

“You got track time tomorrow.”

“Since when?” Colt yelped as Beau picked up a huge green towel.

“Since I scheduled it after you diamonded that track going ninety yesterday.” Beau stepped closer, and Colt shuffled away. “You're gonna show me again. And you can't do that if you can't even turn your head.”

Colt turned on his heel and ran for the door. Or tried to. He didn't even make it to the foot of the bed. His right quad—the one he'd been using to hammer the brake pedal repeatedly at triple digits—staged a mutiny when Colt’s toes hit the area rug. It seized, a white-hot cramp that made his leg lock straight. Just what he fucking needed—to face plant in front of this particularman. Fuck.

He didn't face plant. Before he could go down, fabric wrapped around his shoulders, then under his knees. Beau scooped him up like he weighed nothing and walked them toward the bathroom.

“Beau! You're not supposed to touch me.” Colt tried to climb over Beau’s shoulder, and his obliques screamed in pain. “Fuck! Ow!”

“I'm not touching you. The towel is.” There was definite smugness in Beau’s voice, and Colt would have punched him if he wasn't so busy panicking becausecold.“Stop squirming. You're gonna make it worse.”

“No, no, please, I—”

Beau tipped Colt over and dropped him into the tub, towel and all, with a violent splash. The shock hit his system all at once, the cold a physical assault hitting his skin like a million tiny fucking needles—holy shit.