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“Jackasses,” I muttered before leaving them speechless on the pavement.

If there was one thing in the world I loathed besides my ex-husband, it was male tourists. Specifically Oktoberfest tourists. During the rest of the year, I never found my ass slapped or my breasts ogled. Of course, I blamed the free-flowing alcohol for the disgusting behavior.

And the fact that at the most basic level, men were absolute pigs.

Between myself, Annie, and my middle sister, Lorelei, we kept the sheriff’s department fattened up during Oktoberfest. It was our way of saying thanks whenever we reported a handsy jackass.

We’d even gone so far as to make a pact to never, ever date a tourist during Oktoberfest. No matter how handsome or kind or ultimately decent, they were just off limits.

And whenever one of our hearts would grow a little softer, we’d get leered at or groped, and we’d go right back to our pact.

After the massive mahogany door shut behind me, I headed over to the wait stand where my other sister, Lorelei, or Rory as we called her, was standing. Like me, she was also decked out in a matching dirndl, but unlike my blonde hair, her chestnut locks were down in loose braids adorned with flowers.

When she glanced up at me, she frowned. “What’s wrong?”

I waved my hand absently. “Just another run-in with the usual adolescent creeps.”

Her upper lip curled in disgust. “It’s opening day. How are they already drunk and disorderly?”

“Good question,” I replied while pacing aimlessly.

Her brows creased with concern. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Rory asked.

Although she was the middle daughter, she had the thoughtfulness and resourcefulness of an oldest girl. Shaking my head, I gave her a grateful smile. “You’ve already done so much already by leaving the bakery to be here for me.”

Rory also played a part in the restaurant business. Two doors down, she owned a bakery that carried a range of German goodies as well as preparing all the desserts for Haus Alpenhers. Today, however, she’d left her assistant baker in charge so she could take over for me at the restaurant, which would free me up to focus on Rodney.

With a reassuring smile, Rory said, “You know I wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world.”

Placing my hand on my churning stomach, I replied, “At least one of us feels that way.

Rory tilted her head in thought. “Do you want a shot of Jäger?”

I snorted. “You and Annie have the same train of thought when it comes to stress relief.”

Before Rory could respond, a playful yip came from the employee hallway. Whirling around, I watched our family’s golden retriever, Ozzy, come bounding up to me. As Ozzy danced around me with his tail whirling like a helicopter, I bent over to kiss his furry head. “Aw, there’s the stress relief I needed.”

Ozzy rewarded my compliment with a long slurp across my cheek. With a squeak, I jerked back up. I felt like a complete bitch when Ozzy gave me a wounded look.

“I’m sorry, boy, but I can’t let your kisses mess up my makeup.” Patting his head, I added, “I promise I’ll give you lots of belly rubs as soon as Rodney is gone.”

When my father died three years ago, my sisters and I got Ozzy for my mom for companionship. At his first Oktoberfest, Mom dressed him in a lederhosen costume, which solidified him as the restaurant’s mascot. Outfitted in his lederhosen and fedora, Ozzy adorned the menus and even the sign outside. You could say he was somewhat of a local celebrity.

As I swiped off any remaining slobber, the door opened, and Rodney stepped inside. Sensing a new customer to greet, Ozzy bounded over to greet him.

While whipping off his sunglasses, Rodney’s hand flew out to stop Ozzy from getting anywhere near him. “Shoo!” he exclaimed.

At Rory’s sharp intake of breath, I shot her a warning look. Sure, I agreed with her obvious disdain for Rodney’s remark, but this was too important.

Before I could close the gap between Rodney and me, she grabbed my arm. Leaning in to whisper in my ear, Rory hissed, “Any man who doesn’t like a dog isn’t worth knowing.”

Despite agreeing with her, I couldn’t help shoving her away. Plastering on my best smile, I strode over to Rodney. “Ozzy, retreat,” I commanded.

His golden head whipped back to shoot me an “Are you fucking kidding me?” look. I guess I couldn’t blame him. He didn’t run up against many anti-dog people. When I ordered him to go to Rory, I knew I was going to owe him big time from the downcast eyes and drooping tail.

I then turned my attention back to the man of the hour. Rodney was everything like his online persona. He was the purest example of a hipster I’d ever seen. Like his entire ensemble from the blue and black checked button-down shirt to his skinny jeans, tan loafers, and fedora could’ve made up a male Hipster costume at Spirit Halloween.

Throwing my hand out, I rushed forward. “Hello, Rodney, I’m Mina Hansen. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”