Page 150 of Blue Moon

“Look, two thousand years ago, maybe bathing in milk was the thing to do, but we’ve moved on. Now you can go to Saks or Macy’s or Nordstrom and buy bath bombs and essential oils. And did you forget I’m on my period?”

“That means you can’t take a bath?”

“I don’t want to sit in…you know. Can you rig up a milk shower?”

He sighed. “There are thirty pints of goat milk in there. Waste is a scourge on modern society.”

“Okay, so you get in the tub.”

“Me?”

“Don’t you want soft, wrinkle-free skin?” He could also rinse off the sweat.

“Well, yes, but…”

I swallowed a giggle. Mark Antony thought it was a good idea to kidnap three women and bring them to live in his mountain hideaway? Big mistake. Huge. Plus he’d forgotten one crucial fact about Cleopatra, the last Queen of Egypt. She desired power above all things. And she ate generals for breakfast.

“It’ll help with those little frown lines.”

“What frown lines?”

“I get it. You’ve had a stressful week, and you deserve to relax. Kacie and Michelle can fan you with palm leaves while you bathe.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Michelle asked. “Where we gonna get palm leaves?”

“From the potted plant in the sleeping chamber. Do I have to think of everything?” I turned back to my deranged “hubby.” “C’mon, gladiator, put your money where your mouth is. I’ll pour the honey over you.”

He sucked in a breath. “Fine.”

Ohmigosh, was he actually going to do it?

Mark Antony pulled his “I, for one, like Roman numerals” T-shirt over his head, and maybe if he’d spent less time abducting people and more time in the gym, his stomach would have looked more like Ryder’s and less like an undercooked dinner roll. If I was served that in a restaurant, I’d send it back.

Next, he removed his jeans, revealing hairy legs and a large bandage where Rocky had bitten him, and when he moved to peel off his underwear, we all yelled, “No!” in unison.

“What?”

Michelle answered for the three of us. “Nobody wants to see your trouser snake.”

“My trouser snake? I don’t have one of those, only a California kingsnake, a green tree python, a boomslang, and a copperhead.”

See? Zero common sense. And my half-sister accused me of being socially inept? At least I— Wait a second… Snakes?

“A copperhead? Aren’t those, like, poisonous? Where is it?”

Tell me he’s left it in Las Vegas.

“Poisonous? Goodness, no.” Phew. “Carl is venomous.”

“Isn’t that basically the same thing?”

“Not at all. While they both involve toxins, a poison is?—”

“Where. Is. The. Copperhead?”

“There’s no need to worry. He’s in my study with the rest of the snakes and my Gila monster.”

“Your what?”

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