Janette threw her head back and laughed. “I do like you, Mitchell Shaw. You’re funny.”

He magnanimously offered her some of his potato chips, which she wisely declined.

“Have you two had dessert yet?”

“Forget it,” Sissy stated with way more vehemence than seemed necessary.

“Oh, come on, Sissy Mae. He’s just so dang cute.” She reached over and pinched Mitch’s cheek. “Wouldn’t you like some pie, Mitchell Shaw?”

“No. He would not.”

“What kind of pie?” Mitch figured Sissy didn’t want to go to her aunt’s house—not that he blamed her. Sometimes getting stuck with relatives was the absolute worst.

“All sorts. Sissy didn’t tell you about our pie shop?”

And Mitch froze. “Pie shop? You have a pie shop?”

“The best pies you’ll find this side of the Mason-Dixon, darlin’.”

“How could you not tell me they had a pie shop?”

Sissy shook her head. “You will regret this, Aunt Janette.”

Really, Mitch Shaw had absolutely no shame. Sissy knew this when he walked into the Lewis Sisters’ Pie Shop and dropped to his knees in front of the cold case. His hands rested on the glass, and he looked at each pie like a small child would.

“I…I can’t make up my mind,” he gasped. Like Mitch needed to make up his mind. He could finish everything in that case and still be hungry less than an hour from now.

“Y’all are gonna regret this,” she reiterated to her aunts, and they all laughed.

“Where should I start?” Mitch finally asked. He looked at Sissy. “Which is your favorite?”

Lord, that was a hard question. If there was one thing her aunts could do, it was bake a pie. Even pies she’d never eat from anyone else, she’d scarf down from her aunts. Their pies had become so popular locally, they’d eventually had to open up another store in a neutral part of the region so other breeds and full-humans could go without starting those ugly fights involving everyone in town.

“Cherry.”

“The cherry?”

“Trust me.”

“I do,” he answered simply, and she saw her aunts pass glances. She hated when they did that—it meant they were thinking up something. She hated when they started all that damn thinking. It led to trouble.

“Slice of cherry, please.”

Sissy walked up beside Mitch, who’d finally gotten to his feet. “So polite.”

“I’m always polite to those who deserve it.”

“Mitch, darlin’, you sit on down over there, and we’ll bring you a slice with some milk. How that be?”

“That be perfect.” He looked down at Sissy. “See what polite gets ya?”

“So, Sissy?” And her Aunt Darla dropped her elbows down on thecounter in front of Sissy, her body leaning toward her niece’s.

“Yes, Aunt Darla?”

“Heard you’ve been driving around town in Clyde.”

“Mitch wanted to check him out.”

“You miss it, don’t you? Getting to drive as fast as you can without anyone stopping you.”

Sissy’s smile faded away, realizing that her aunts hadn’t wanted to see her simply because they loved her. They’d trapped her! “No.”

“No what?”

“Don’t pretend innocence with me. I know what y’all want, and you can forget it.”

Francine pushed a slice of lemon meringue across the counter to Sissy. “Now, darlin’ girl—”

“Don’t darlin’ girl me. I’m not doing it. Forget it. And you’re only asking me to do this after all these years because Momma’s not here to tell you to back off.”

“Because your momma has no faith in your skills. Not like we do.”

Sissy shook her head. “Now that was just shameless.”

Francine slammed her hands against the counter. “Oh, come on, Sissy Mae! Do it for us.”

“No.” Sissy picked up her slice of pie and the glass of milk Roberta handed her.

“Come on, Sissy. Do it for the town.”

“Isn’t it enough you have poor Mitch here playing against bears?”

They all looked at “poor Mitch,” who seemed to be having the equivalent of an orgasm eating that slice of cherry pie.

“Mitch doesn’t mind. He understands loyalty.”

Sissy glared at Francine. “That was just plain mean. And I can’t do it unless Ronnie—”

“She already said yes. As did Dee.”

Sissy placed her food on the table and sat down. By the time her butt was in the seat, she had an empty plate with cherry residue and an empty milk glass in front of her.

“That was mine,” she snarled.

Mitch grunted and kept eating.

“Well, with both Ronnie and Dee, you don’t really need me.”

“You know we do.” Francine sat across from Sissy. “It ain’t just speed we need when dealing with the Barron Pride.”

Sissy nudged Mitch’s arm. “Do you care that they have me going up against one of your precious Prides?”

Mitch held a forkful of pie inches from his mouth. “Do any of the Prides around here make pies like this?”

Francine grinned. “Not even close.”

“Then, no, I don’t care. Now don’t bother me.”

Darla walked up and placed three more slices of pie in front of Mitch. “This is our chocolate cream, our Boston cream, and our pecan. And anything else you want to try or a pie or two you want to take home, you just tell us.”