“Least I didn’t call you a nutria.” He wrinkled his nose, laughing hard.
Adam tilted his head. “You ever seen a basset hound hunting nutria?”
“Them wee dogs? Lord, no. They’d drown.” He’d seen Mr. Coke’s babies. They were heavy in the bones like Beau.
“Dillon took his to Beau’s. Them silly dogs were amazing.”
“Lord, I bet Boudreaux had himself a howl.”
Adam hooted. “That big bloodhound acted like those bassets were his babies. He was so proud.”
“He’s a good pup. He was a butthead when they were training his floppy ass.”
“God, yes.” They settled, sort of snuggling. One of them would have to put on pants to get the food.
He would manage. There were sweats, somewhere in his pack. Right now it was way more important to be right where he was.
That was right where he needed to be.
