“Doggy.”
Mac pushed off his chair and joined Mila, taking her other hand. "Can we pet your doggy, please?"
The woman looked delighted. "Of course you can, sweetheart."
Mac reached out and patted the retriever's head with the gentle precision of someone who'd been coached extensively by an overqualified enforcer. Then he turned back to Mila, who was toddling toward him with her hand already extended.
"Careful," Mac told her. "Gentle. He's old."
Mila giggled and smacked the dog enthusiastically on the nose. The retriever, to its credit, accepted this with the resignation of an animal who was used to small things patting him.
From the table, a low territorial growl vibrated through the café. Not Gregor but Fergus. He was glaring at the retriever with the same intensity of the estate Dobermans, just not quite as ferocious sounding and nowhere near as threatening.
"Stand down," Gregor murmured.
Fergus ignored him and produced another rattly growl.
"Your authority has been challenged," I said.
"My authority is intact. He's expressing an opinion."
"That's not what that sound means."
Gregor adjusted Fergus in his arms. "He's doing his job and protecting our children."
"He's jealous of a golden retriever."
"He's providing protection services," Gregor said and smiled, “perhaps he is a little jealous."
The back room door swung open and Lena emerged with a tray of clean mugs. She spotted me, froze, and dropped the tray.
Luckily, it clattered onto the counter.
"Maeve?!" Lena's voice hit a register usually reserved for fire alarms.
"Hi, Lena."
She scrambled around the counter and threw her arms around me with enough force to make me stumble. Gregor was about to lunge forward, but stopped himself.
"Oh my god." She pulled back, wiping her eyes. "You look incredible. We thought we'd never see you again. You just vanished. And then the café paperwork came through and I thought. I didn't know if you were dead or in witness protection or—"
"It's been a busy few years."
Lena's gaze drifted past my shoulder and landed on the three massive men. Ivan was now holding Mila upside down for reasons I had stopped trying to understand. Gregor was still holding Fergus, who was still glaring at the retriever. Artem was standing behind me with Mac at his side, watching the exchange.
Lena squeaked. "Oh. Oh my."
"They're with me."
"I remember. And the kids."
"My son Mac, and daughter Mila. The other kid who is swinging Mila by her feet is Ivan. He went from terrifying to silly. My sensible, dog-loving alpha is Gregor...” I leaned in and whispered. “He pretends he is training him, because he doesn’t want to admit he loves a three pound dog.”
Lena smiled. “I love men like that.”
“Me too.” I turned to Artem. “And this one is Artem. He’s only terrifying when we leave the house and he thinks everyone is a threat."
Lena blinked rapidly, looking from my fully marked neck to the three men and back again. "They're very..."
