Horny, pathetic, and cute.

With one hand, she adjusted the ice pack, making sure that the entire area was covered. With the other hand, she stroked Ric’s hair.

“What are you doing?” Bobby Ray, Smitty to his friends, asked her.

“She’s coddling me. Mind not ruining it?” Ric asked, snuggling in closer.

Dee shrugged at her cousin’s confusion. “Someone has to do it.”

“Yeah, but . . . you’re doing it.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You’re not exactly a coddler, Dee-Ann. You’re very far from a coddler.”

“Now you’re just pissing me off, Bobby Ray.”

“No need to snarl.”

Bobby Ray headed over to Rory and Reece Reed. The three of them stood there, watching her.

Blayne came over with another ice pack, exchanging it for the nearly melted one.

“What’s wrong?” she asked and, for some unknown reason, Dee told her.

“Seems my kin’s being a bit judgmental about who I allow to rest on my tits.”

“Oh?” She followed Dee’s gaze, nodded. “I’ll take care of it.” Dee watched Blayne—Teacup!—walk over to the three much bigger wolves. She started off nice enough, but when she didn’t seem to get an answer she liked—and Bobby Ray started to walk away—she unleashed a rant that had Ric lifting his head from Dee’s chest so he could watch, all the other shifters turning away from whatever they were doing to watch the finger-pointing, profanity-laden tirade.

Dee couldn’t make out much of it, other than the cussing and something about “Project Wolf-Wolf” and “I’ll be damned if I let you ruin what I’ve worked so hard for!” Whatever any of that meant. Of course, this was Teacup. She didn’t have to make sense.

When she was done, Bobby Ray threw his hands up and that seemed to be the answer Teacup wanted. She came back over to Dee and Ric. “All fixed.” She grinned. “Now let’s get this going. We still have, like, a ton more innings!”

Perky as all hell, Blayne skipped off—were shifters supposed to skip?—and Dee shook her head, reaching for her bat. “Did I mention that the reason I hate baseball or any of its variations is because it never seems to end?”

“Be grateful,” Ric told her. “Lock says she wanted to play dodgeball. Which, as former runts, both Lock and I consider a form of government-approved torture.”

“Guess I shouldn’t mention then that I rocked at dodgeball, huh?” Ric sniffed. “I wouldn’t.”

Ric got another fresh bag of ice and stood outside the metal fence, looking in. He held the ice to his head, the swelling already going down, and watched the two teams argue about something new.

This time,however, Blayne didn’t involve herself in the fight, but came out to stand by Ric.

She tucked her arm around his and asked, “How’s your head?”

“Much better. That lion throws like a girl.”

Blayne giggled and rested her head against Ric’s shoulder. “I’m so happy for you, my friend.”

“It’s not a done deal yet, Blayne.”

“No, but I think you’re close.” She leaned in and whispered, “When you’re not looking, she gazes at you lovingly.”

“You sure she’s not trying to think of the best way to bury my body when she’s done with me?”

“No way. She’s given me that particular look a ton of times, and the one she’s giving you is totally different.”

Laughing, Ric put his arm around Blayne’s shoulders and kissed her forehead. “You’re the best, Blayne. Did you know that?”

“I am aware. I’m just waiting for the universe and Dee-Ann Smith to catch up to this knowledge.”

“Speaking of which, how did you get Smitty to back off anyway?”

“Easy. I reminded him that I would often be babysitting his beautiful daughter and I could either teach her to be a rational, logical wolfdog—or I could teach her to be like me. His choice.”

“Ruthless.”

“When I have to be.”

Ric stopped talking, his head turning, ears perking up. He watched little Abby charging out of the trees. She’d followed Hannah, who had no desire to play baseball for any team, out into the park. But now Abby was back and on her own.

“Damn,” he said before following the panicked dog, with Blayne right beside him.

They finally made it into a nearby clearing and stopped, Ric’s arm shooting out to halt Blayne. It was hyenas—and they had Hannah surrounded.

“You’re up, Dee-Ann,” Sissy called out. “Let’s go!”

Dee stepped forward, the wood bat in her hand. She didn’t like those aluminum ones. She hated the sound they made when they collided with the ball.

Dee walked up to the plate, wincing when she saw who the pitcher was for this inning. It was one of Jess’s best friends and one of the wild dog captains, Phil. For kind of a girly wild dog, he’d turned out to be a hell of a ballplayer.

His mate, and the one Mitch called “the Russian hottie,” Sabina, crouched behind Dee, catcher mask pulled down to cover her face. “Don’t worry, big She-wolf. I bet he send ball over plate nice and slow for you,” she taunted in that damn Russian accent, which only made what she said sound even meaner. “You are one of his favorite people. After stalking and tagging our poor Blayne like animal in wild.”