“Me?” She gasped. “They’re the ones talking about—” She paused to look around and then lowered her voice to a loud whisper. “Sex.”
Romeo’s lips twitched, and he held out his arms. “Give me my wife.”
“Thanks for the save, Trent.”
I deposited her into Romeo’s hold. “Anytime, sis.”
Ivy picked up the bowl from the floor and tossed it into the sink. We stopped using glass a long time ago.
“I’m going to eat,” I said, rubbing my grumbling stomach.
Drew grasped my hand on the way to the dinging room, and I smiled, tugging him along with me.
“Oh, for shit’s sake!” Braeden hollered.
We glanced back to see him holding up his foot with a large wet spot covering his white sock.
“Tutor girl, one of your beasts pissed in the kitchen!”
Rimmel gasped. “They did not!”
“Then how do you explain this?” he exclaimed, jabbing at his foot.
“The stain is pink, moron. Obviously, it’s not pee,” Ivy pointed out and reached down to pull the sock off her husband’s foot. Bravely, she lifted it to take a quick sniff, blond hair swaying with the motion. “It’s watermelon juice,” she told the room.
“Ooops,” Rimmel sang. Then, in a much louder voice, she called, “Milo! Rocket! Barney and Fred!”
There was a bark from somewhere, and then a horde of dogs stormed the kitchen, the excited click-clack of their nails on the floor just as loud as their panting breaths.
“Mess,” Rimmel pointed to the spilled fruit juice, and the dogs nearly knocked Braeden over as they slurped it up with their massive tongues.
“This is unhygienic!” Braeden complained loudly. “These dogs are out of control.”
Andi brushed through me and Drew and shot forward, her pin-straight dark hair blowing around her shoulders and a piece of bacon hanging from her fingers.
“Here, boy!” she called, waving it around.
Barney got there first, taking the entire thing in one chomp.
She laughed and raced back to the dining room, the dogs following her with hopeful looks. Across the kitchen, another dog burst in from the dog door and raced across the floor, slidinga bit as he ran. Seeing the sock dangling from Ivy’s hand, he grabbed it and gave it a shake, then took off.
“That’s my sock!” Braeden roared and lunged after the dog.
Rimmel giggled as Ketchup veered away and came over to hide behind Drew. When B tried to reach around him to get his beloved dog, Drew put a hand on his chest and shook his head.
“This is why he acts like that,” B accused. “You let him get away with sock murder.”
“It was ruined anyway,” Drew said, reaching around to scratch Ketchup behind the ear. “Good boy,” he whispered, and Ketchup’s tail beat the back of my legs.
Yes, I know. I allowed him to name our dog Ketchup.
As previously mentioned, I am weak for him and anything that makes him happy. After our beloved French Fry crossed the rainbow bridge, we didn’t think we’d want to get another pet. Death is hard. But then about a year later, Rimmel showed up with this guy who came into the shelter with matted hair and his ribs showing. The second he jumped into Drew’s lap, I knew he was ours.
“This house is a damn zoo,” Braeden mourned.
Romeo made a goat sound.
Rimmel and Ivy laughed.
