“Sure. After we stop at the bar first.”

“Oh.” Jessie scrunched up her face. The action annoyed him because she looked so goddamn cute doing it. “I forgot to mention. Caleb lost his liquor license a week ago. So, at least for now, soft drinks, virgin margaritas, and Shirley Temples only. But the Shirley Temples are to die for.”

Smitty worked hard not to grit his teeth. “There’s no liquor here?”

“Nope.” And she grinned, evil female that she was. “I’m sorry, Smitty.”

No, she wasn’t. She wasn’t sorry at all!

“Don’t worry about it, darlin’,” he lied. “We’ll survive.”

“We will?”

Smitty shoved Mitch into an empty booth. “We’ll be just fine,” he insisted, unwilling to show any weakness in the face of such travesty.

“Okay.” Jessie’s head snapped up. “Oh, there’s my cue. I’ll talk to you guys in a bit.”

Smitty watched Jessie Ann run across the dance floor and up on the stage. The crowd roared her name; apparently this was not a once-in-a-blue-moon event. The Kuznetsov Pack were regulars.

The music for “Coal Miner’s Daughter” started to play and Jess stepped up to the mic.

“Oh, Lord in heaven.”

“A karaoke bar.” Mitch glared at him. “You dragged us to a karaoke bar?”

“She didn’t tell me it was karaoke.”

“You know it’s bad enough having to listen to you guys howl all the time. But this... this may be asking too much. Dogs. Singing.” Mitch turned to the bar and lashed Smitty with another glare. “And no goddamn liquor. You know, as per shifter law, I could legally kill you.”

He almost wished the whining cat would.

Jessie opened her mouth to start singing and Smitty cringed, waiting for those first tragic, painful notes... but he ended up blinking in surprise. Even Mitch looked shocked. Jessie Ann was good—and she sounded exactly like Loretta Lynn, the Grande Dame of Country Music.

“I never knew she liked country music,” Smitty said in awe.

“Yeah, that must make her prime mate material for a Smith. She’ll fit right in at one of your hootenannies.”

Smitty glared across the booth. “Please. Give me one reason to kill you. Just one.”

Jess belted out that last note of “Coal Miner’s Daughter” and the crowd jumped to their feet, chanting her name. Okay, so she’d never make it to the Grand Ole Opry in this lifetime—her secret dream only her closest friends knew about—but who needed that when she had dogs barking for more?

She bowed to her adoring fans and jumped off the stage. Immediately Danny replaced her for his rendition of .38 Specials “Hang on Loosely,” which always made his wife swoon.

To her surprise, Smitty and Mitch hadn’tbailed yet. She thought for sure Smitty would run screaming into the night as soon as he realized it was a “dry” karaoke bar. Wolves may love to howl, but nothing they hated more than to hear dogs sing. And dogs loved to sing. Add in no tequila and that was not a wolf’s idea of a good time. More like one of their nightmares.

Yet how he kept Mitch Shaw locked into place, she’d never know. Cats really hated hearing dogs sing. It rankled their fur.

Jess sat down next to Smitty and smiled.

“You could have warned me, Jessie Ann.”

“I could have—but how would that be fun for me?”

Teeth gritted again and she even elicited a slight sneer. Feeling pretty good about that, Jess turned to Mitch. “How’s that nonalcoholic beer doing it for ya, Mitch?”

Really, you haven’t lived until you’ve been hissed at.

“So how long does this thing last anyway?” Smitty asked, probably trying to distract her from toying with Mitch.

“Until two. Usually.”

“In the morning?”

Jess barely held in a laugh. He sounded so... despondent. “Would you prefer I said afternoon? Besides, you don’t have to stay. In fact, feel free to go.”

“Rock on.” Mitch went to stand up and Smitty reached over and shoved him back in the seat.

“Is there a reason you’re being mean to me, Jessie Ann?”

“Other than I’m enjoying it? Not really.”

“You know, Jessie Ann,” he growled, “when you’re being mean like this you do nothing but make me hard.”

Not exactly the response she expected.

Mitch shook his head. “Wolves are so weird, bruh.”

Ignoring Mitch, Smitty took her hand, and in that one simple move had her wishing they were alone. With his thumb making lazy circles around her knuckles, he said, “Okay. You made your point. Now come home with me.”

Jess swallowed. She’d never had a man seem so desperate to be with her before. She liked it.

“Uh... ” she began awkwardly, but May jumped into the booth right behind her.

“Hey, Jess.” On her knees, May leaned over the back of the booth. “Kenshin’s here.”

Kenshin Inu walked into the club with his Pack right behind him. An Asian wild dog, Ken had a family that moved around constantly. True nomads, the Inu Pack traveled all over the world. Their main den remained Tokyo, Japan—yes, all of it—but the world was their true home. Ken and Jess had been close since he’d saved her from getting arrested one summer in Chicago many, many years ago. And Ken had given her the seed money to start the company. The dot-com bubble had busted a long time ago, and giving their Pack money had been a risk. One he still made money off of. Jess was nearly as close to Kenshin as she was to Phil.