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I give her a look. “He already had bacon.”

Gracie and Callie stare at me. I realize my mistake.

“You gave him bacon?” Gracie asks.

“One fucking piece.”

Callie's entire face lights up. She reaches over and scratches Alibi’s ears. “Daddy gave you bacon?”

Fuck.

Before I can say a word, Callie squeals when she spots a display of seasonal mugs and rushes over. “Oh, these are cute.”

Gracie smiles. “Aren’t they?”

“They’re perfect for Thanksgiving.” She holds up the first one. Tiny pumpkins and orange leaves surround the word THANKFUL.

“No.”

“I haven't shown you the other one.”

“I don't need to see it.”

She reaches for another mug.

A pissed-off turkey is on the front. It says RESTING THANKSGIVING FACE.

Green eyes move to mine.

“Absolutely fucking not.”

Her smile explodes. “This one's yours.”

“Put it back.”

“Too late.” She carries them over and sets them on the counter. “Much better than your boring mugs.”

I shake my head, then freeze as I feel something sniffing my boot.

“Walter.” Callie squats down and grabs the old, tiny sausage dog. “Roman, meet Walter. Gracie’s fourteen-year-old guard dog.” She scratches his ears. “You’re good at protecting Bramble, aren’t you?”

I reach over to pet him, and the damn dog bites me.

“Ow.”

Gracie gives me a chagrined smile. “Sorry. He takes a while to warm up to strangers.”

“He bit me.”

“He has three teeth,” Callie says, laughing. “That couldn’t have hurt.”

I glare at her, rubbing my finger. “Let him bite you. Bet you’ll change your mind.”

“Walter wouldn’t bite me,” she coos.

He licks her face.

“He’s vicious.”