Snarling, he turned and walked back to Sissy’s house. He had no idea where she had gone, but she better have some food waiting for him or he’d be a little more than cranky.

But Mitch felt his anger moving to a new level when he neared the house and saw them. There were about eight, and they all held flowers or boxes of chocolate.

What the fuck?

He didn’t bother to shift; instead, he kept on walking until he reached the line—a friggin’ line!—that led from the house down the porch steps.

And was Sissy shooing these horny wolves away? No! She was looking way too cute and wet from the lake in those tiny shorts and way-too-small T-shirt—did she not have any other kinds of clothes?—while she took their flowers or chocolates and smiled.

Didn’t she understand that until he left, her attention should only be on him? True, they only had a friendship, and it would probably stay that way, but until he headed back to Philly, he expected her to focus solely on him.

And he knew he wasn’t being unreasonable…dammit.

Standing behind Sissy—and getting a delightful look at that great ass—he stared at the wolves who’d come to call. They stared back, none of them making any effort to leave.

So…he roared. A few jumped, the others continued to stare.

Sissy looked at him. “Oh?” she asked. “Have we finished tussling with Ralph?”

Now the wolves looked a little concerned. But Mitch had no idea who Ralph was. To make that clear, he tilted his head to the side, and Sissy shook her head in obvious disgust.

“Ralph. The crocodile you refused to give up that damn boar to.”

He snorted at her, and Dee shook her head. “That was a sight all right,” she grumbled. Mitch was quickly learning not to expect more from Dee than the occasional sentence thrown at him to keep him off balance.

“Well, as you can see, I’m busy. So”—Sissy shooed him—“scoot.”

She was shooing him away? Not these dogs? How was this okay behavior?

Not about to be put off for some German shepherds carrying flowers, Mitch grabbed hold of the back of Sissy’s shorts and tugged her toward the steps.

“Hey! Have you lost your mind?”

He ignored her and kept pulling.

“Can I just say that this is rude? You’re being rude!”

Mitch didn’t care.

Sissy let him drag her into the house because she knew if she tried to pull away, her shorts would get torn off and she wasn’t in the mood for that.

Besides, this was kind of fun.

Although what had gotten into the man, she had no idea.

Dee came in after them and closed the door while Sissy slapped at Mitch’s muzzle until he released her.

Motioning to the men outside, Dee said, “Nice move mentioningRalph.”

That had been a tactical maneuver. She didn’t want to have to worry about anyone starting shit with Mitch when she was out of the house. At least not until he was back to full strength.

“But you really need to get into town, Sissy.”

“Yeah. Yeah. But I got boar’s blood all over me, so I better shower.” She had her foot on the first step, but one big hand slapped against the wall and the big arm attached blocked her from going up the stairs. She looked at a now human, bloody, and seriously naked Mitch. Yowza. “Yes?”

“What about my breakfast?”

“So you lost your breakfast to Ralph, huh?”

“You named him Ralph?”

“What did you want us to name him? Crocky McCrockenson?”

“I’m hungry,” he said again.

“Dee, darlin’, could you fix the king of the jungle here something for breakfast since he seems to be incapable?”

“Yup.”

Mitch leaned in close, his mouth against her ear. “Does she cook as good as you?”

“No,” Sissy whispered back, “but at least I don’t have to worry about you replacing me with another. Now…mind moving that horse dick out of my way?”

He moved his arm, and Sissy headed up the stairs.

“Wait,” he said behind her, “was that an insult?”

Sissy was right—Dee wasn’t as good a cook as her. She wasn’t bad, but Sissy really had a way with the skillet.

Freshly showered and wearing jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers, Sissy trotted down the stairs. She took bacon directly off his plate, and he almost took her arm off.

Dee handed Sissy a paper towel. “You want me to go with you?”

“Nah. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure? I know how it gets between you and Travis.”

“What’s going on?” Mitch asked even as he kept eating.

“Nothing to worry your giant cat head about.”

“Sissy—”

“Bye. I won’t be long.” She walked out the back door without another word.

“I hate when she does that.”

Dee chuckled or snorted—Mitch couldn’t tell—and put the dirty pans in the sink.

Before she could turn on the water, he quickly asked, “Got any more eggs?”

Dee looked at him over her shoulder. “I just made you a carton of scrambled eggs.”

“Is that a yes or a no to my question?”

Chapter 9

Sissy walked into her old high school, and memories inundated her, some of them great. Like her and Ronnie Lee teasing every boy in a ten-foot radius. Or the way Sissy and her She-pups ruled these halls from ninth grade to twelfth.