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“He made Wren think with his answer,” Roark said.

“He made me think too,” Rusty replied. “I reminded him that I hated them too and said they’d never be served here, but that wouldn’t really be fair to the pups, would it? They’re healthy and they do grow well here. Maybe it’s high time I learn how to cook them so someone might actually want to eat them, including me.”

“That’s along the lines of what I was thinking too,” Roark admitted. “Like, will we be limiting the pups’ exposure to new things if we only make the foods we like and know how to make well? Figured it might be time to sign up for another of Onyx and Mama G’s cooking classes.”

“I’ll sign up for Atlas’ next workshop then,” Roark said. “I’d love to know more about the way he puts flavor profiles together. I’m sure Mama G can hook me up with a few ideas for lima beans too.”

“Uncle Flame can keep the pups entertained while we experiment.”

“And help sample everything when we’re through,” Rusty replied, laughing.

“I think he’d like that,” Roark said as more rattling drifted from the den, accompanied by Flame and Wren singing along to the Itsy-Bitsy Spider song.

Everyone was off-key and shaking out of rhythm.

“Yeah,” Rusty replied as he listened to Flame butcher the words. “I think he would.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

(Roark)

“Why am I blindfolded?” Roark grumbled as his mates guided him somewhere.

Who the hell knew?

His snowshoes crunched as they led him away from the house, the meandering path familiar even with his lack of sight.

Wait a minute. Were they taking him to the fishing shack?

Charlie would have growled if he’d heard Roark say that out loud. In summer, the front panels could be folded down into a deck that made casting easier. Versatile, sturdy, and built on pilings sunk deep into the bedrock beneath the lake, it had withstood many a storm. Charlie had built it to resemble a cabin, inside and out.

Roark could feel the gentle slope of the embankment, then Logan and Rusty gripped his arms tighter as they walked across the snow-covered ice.

“Why blindfold me to go ice-fishing?” Roark asked as he stretched his fingers out in front of him, expecting them to feel the rough wooden exterior at any moment.

“Who says we’re going ice fishing?” Logan asked.

“We’re on the ice, and the shack is around here somewhere,” Roark replied, feeling around more. “Unless you guys somehow managed to build something else out here in the dead of winter without me knowing about it, where else would we be going?”

“You’ll see,” Logan replied. “Step up.”

“Damnit, this is the shack. Take this blindfold off before I break my neck on these steps,” Roark grumbled.

“Quit your fussin’ and grab the railing,” Rusty told him, catching one of his hands and placing it on the wood.

Roark climbed the steps slowly, muttering beneath his breath the entire time about how much fussing they’d have to listen to if he slipped and landed on his ass. The very ass one of them smacked him on as soon as they reached the top of the steps.

“Yow!” Roark yelped, trying to cover his butt but couldn’t since they had a hold of his arms again. “You bruise it and you buy it.”

“Pretty sure I put my stamp on it a long time ago. You’ve been mine,” Rusty growled.

“Bruised it up plenty a few weeks back and you’ve still got my teeth marks to prove it,” Logan reminded him.

“Are you guys gonna take this off or what?” Roark complained as they guided him inside the warm shack.

That was unexpected.

Had one of them slipped away earlier and turned the heater on?