“Important wolf Pack business has brought me here with my lady love and her Dee-licious cousin.”

“Dee’s here?” Blayne said with real excitement, and she jumped up, only to be yanked back down by Mitch.

“No,” he told her.

“But I just want to say hi!” She jumped up again, and Mitch yanked her back down again.

“No.”

“Come on. Pleaseeeeee let me say hi to Dee-Ann!”

At this point, Mitch was practically curled into his chair, he was laughing so hard while he still kept a firm grip on her arm. “No!” he finally got out. “And whatever you’re doing with Dee-Ann—stop it. Because at this point, I’m thinking there’s a shallow grave with your name on it.”

“No fun,” Blayne pouted. Then she snapped her fingers, her focus moving to something else entirely.

She reached into the backpack she had resting against the legs of her chair. “Look at this book I found—” She stopped abruptly when the entire table groaned. “What?”

“Blayne,” Jess said, “You can’t keep buying me books on pregnancy.”

“It’s not for you. It’s for me.”

Mitch leaned in and sniffed her neck. “You’re not pregnant.”

She glared at him. “Yes. I’m well aware of that.”

“The ol’ Blayne lower-land territory a little unused lately?” Blayne slammed the book in Mitch’s big lion head. “I was just asking!”

Blayne flipped through the book. “This book is about what to do to help a friend going through pregnancy. There’s a whole section on what to do in the delivery room.”

Mitch took the book out of her hand, his fingers covered in bacon grease. “What do you need that information for?”

Blayne reached for the book, but Mitch held her off by turning away from her and using his forearm.

“Hopefully I’ll be able to help out in the delivery room when the time comes, and I want to be prepped for that.”

“Is this in case the future Ward-Smith wolfdog is crazy like all the others and comes out of the womb trying to chew through the umbilical cord? I know! Maybe you can distract her with a squeaky toy!”

Blayne balled up her fist, ready to punch Mitch O’Neill Shaw in the nuts when the book was snatched from Mitch’s hand.

“Hey—oh.” Mitch faced forward. “Hi, Smitty.”

Smitty slapped his hand down on Mitch’s shoulder and squeezed, Blayne cringing from the pain she saw on the lion male’s face. Well, the pain and the blow to his sizable ego. “What was that you said about wolfdogs and my soon-to-be-here baby girl, Mitchell? Don’t reckon I heard you right.”

“Nothing,” Mitch spit out between gritted teeth.

“That’s what Ithought.” Smitty pulled his hand away and kindly handed the book to Blayne before kissing her forehead. “Hello, darlin’.”

“Hello, Smitty. And thank you.” Blayne sneered at Mitch and Mitch sneered back.

Smitty’s sister, Sissy Mae, grabbed up the platter still half filled with bacon and dropped into a chair next to Mitch. She put her feet up on the table, worn cowboy boots right next to Mitch’s arm.

“That’s my bacon,” Mitch told her.

“You need to learn to share, Mitchell Shaw.” Sissy smiled at Blayne. “Mornin’, darlin’.”

“Hi, Sissy.” Blayne looked around. “Where’s Dee-Ann? I thought she was with you.”

“Oh, well—Blayne, no!”

But Blayne was already up and running to the front door. She snatched it open and quickly scanned the downtown street until she saw the She-wolf halfway up the block. Grinning, Blayne screamed out, “Dee! Hey, Dee! Where are you going? Don’t go!” The She-wolf stopped, her shoulders tensing. Blayne held her breath, but it was for nothing. Dee moved on. “Dee! Wait! Dee! Ann! Dee-Annnnnnnnnnnnn! Come back!”

Dee-Ann didn’t come back, and Blayne closed the front door and went back to the dining room and the remainder of her breakfast. Once she sat down, everyone at the table staring at her, she picked up her glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and took a sip. “I guess she didn’t hear me.”

Mitch shook his head. “It’s like watching someone drive straight toward a concrete wall and yet there’s nothing you can do to make them stop.”

“Don’t know what you mean.”

“Forget all that,” Sissy said, leaning in a bit and grinning. “We saw Lock and Gwenie last night for dinner,” she said to Blayne.

“It’s like having a mountain at the table with you,” Mitch complained about Gwen’s grizzly. “And he moves nearly as fast.”

“And,” Sissy went on, ignoring her mate, “what is this I hear about you and the almighty gorgeous Bo ‘The Marauder’ Novikov?”

It was bad enough that Blayne spit out her own orange juice in surprise, but when half the wild dogs, wolf, and lion did it, too, she didn’t know what to think.

Bo finished up his hundredth lap, resting for a moment with his arms on the edge of his pool. It was Sunday, so this was his day off as per his schedule. Four hours working out in the pool was like a walk in the park compared with his standard ten-to-fifteen-hour daily workout the rest of the week.

Relaxing in a recliner and wearing a minuscule white bikini with her shoulder-length white hair up in a ponytail, Sami flipped through Japanese Vogue. Sander slept stomach down on another recliner. No snoring, but there was drool. It was not pretty.