He kissed Dee before racing out of the bedroom and heading to the kitchen. He wrapped one of the white bandanas he kept in the kitchen drawer around his head and got to work. Somehow he managed to ignore the knocking at the window and the lion males whining about how hungry they were.

Absolutely the one breed of cat Ric couldn’t stand cooking for.

Dee got out of the shower, dried off, and slipped on a pair of cutoffs and a T-shirt. She was heading down the stairs when Reece Reed met her halfway. “Could you not keep the man busy when we’re all so damn hungry?”

Dee caught Reece’s T-shirt and lobbed him over the banister, enjoying the sound of him hitting the floor and whining about “the pain! My God, the pain!” She passed Rory sitting on the last steps, reading the local newspaper. “I tried to tell him not to bother you.”

“He was never a bright boy, your brother.”

“Nah. Never real bright.”

“You both do know I can hear you? I’m lying right here!”

Dee left the Reed brothers and walked into the kitchen.

“Gun?” she asked.

Without looking away from his work, Ric pointed at one of the high kitchen cabinets. “It’s buried in the back.”

“Thanks.” Dee went up on her toes and opened the cabinet, searching around until she found a

.9 mm. “Bullets?”

“The third cabinet to the left in the teapot.”

Dee retrieved the magazine and popped it into the gun. She put a round in the chamber, walked over to the kitchen window, and aimed it at the two cats who stood on the other side of the glass, constantly roaring in an effort to get Ric to move faster. The Shaw brothers dove for cover and Dee put the safety back on the weapon and returned the gun and the magazine to their original hiding places.

“Thanks,” Ric said.

“No problem.”

Ric was slicing potatoes for his last-minute decision to make his potatoes au gratin when Blayne ran in. His knife paused in mid-cut, his eyes narrowing on her.

“What are those?” he demanded.

Panting and sweating from her workout, Blayne frowned and looked behind her. “Oh! Strays.” She smiled. “They started running with me.”

“Get them out of my kitchen.”

“But—”

“Out!”

Blayne’s smile turned into a pout. “You are so mean!”

“And they’re filthy. Remove them or I’m adding them to the menu.” Gasping in indignation, Blayne walked out the back hallway, the stray dogs following. Ric returned to his work but listened for the back door to open and close. A few minutes later, Blayne returned.

“Happy now?”

“I’ll be happier when you get out, too.”

Blayne gasped again. “Me? ”

“You’re sweating all over my floor, and I don’t want you anywhere near the food until you take a shower.” He gestured to the swinging kitchen door that led to the front hallway. “Now go. Schnel! ”

“Don’t bark at me in German! I hate when you bark at me in German!” She stormed out—again—and Ric went back to work.

“What can I help you with?” Dee asked him.

“Help?”

“You know. As in assisting.”

“Uh . . . I don’t really know what you can help with. Unlike me, you haven’t been trained since birth to handle yourself in a Van Holtz kitchen. What if you crack under the pressure?”

“Do you want my help or not, Van Holtz?”

Chuckling, Ric admitted, “Stein might need you more at the grill.”

“Okay.”

“Hey. Come here.”

“Why?”

Ric faced her. “Move that cute butt, Smith.”

She walked over to him and he kissed her. “Don’t let my cousin smooth-talk you into doing all the work or try to take you away from me. Understand?”

“I enjoy how you think I’d let anyone but you get away with half the shit you try.”

“As long as we understand each other.”

“We do.” She kissed him again, their arms slipping around each other, their mouths and tongues exploring.

Until . . .

“Are you two at it again?” Stein demanded. “I’m drowning out there! And if those cats don’t get away from me . . .”

Dee-Ann pulled away, laughing as she did. “I’ll handle it,” she told Ric. “You just keep making your potatoes au gratin.”

“What makes you think I’m making that?”

“Because you’d better be.”

She turned away from him and headed toward Stein. “Let’s go, kid. I’ll help you out.” Stein plastered himself against the wall, blue eyes focusing on Ric’s She-wolf. “You?” he asked.

“You . . . you’re going to help me?”

Dee stepped in close, her arms crossed over her chest. “Is that gonna be a problem, hoss?”

“No. No, sir . . . er . . . ma’am. No, ma’am. ”

He eased away from her, his back pressed into the wall until he hit the doorway, then he sprinted for freedom.

“I do have a way with the young ones, don’t I?” Dee asked before she followed Stein.

“Sure, you do,” Ric muttered to himself. “Just like parole officers and wardens.”

“I heard that, Van Holtz,” she called back.

And Ric laughed, enjoying this weekend way more than he’d ever thought he could.