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“Be nice!” Skylar said and pointed at Rock. “Where are your manners?”

“Aww, they’re so cute,” Ginger told Yarrow. “Feisty, too.”

Once Ginger smiled at Rock, he instantly scowled and insisted, “You have enough grandkids.”

“But none of them look like you.”

“Actually—” Oz said before shifting gears and adding, “Listen to your mom.”

“I don’t want kids. They’re awful,” Rock said and glared at Skylar and Lyric. “They smell.”

“I don’t smell!” Lyric squealed and turned to Skylar.

While the girls sniffed each other, Yarrow glared at Rock. “Stop making my granddaughters cry.”

“But they aren’t even crying.”

“You want tears?” Skylar demanded and shoved back her pink plastic glasses. “I can cry.”

As the girls scrunched their faces and tried to work up tears, I ducked inside and found a spot next to Goldie on the couch.

“What’s wrong?” she asked and rested her head against me.

“Drama.”

Goldie took my hand and seemed tired. “I miss feeling like me. Normally, I’d be out there with the girls screaming at Rock. But instead, I’m ready for a nap.”

“I have no doubt you’ll make him cry by next summer.”

Goldie snickered and leaned forward to see out the back door. “Is that what’s happening out there?”

“Technically, Lyric and Skylar are trying to cry to make Rock look like a liar. They probably want Ginger to ground him. All I know for sure is that they created enough of a scene for me to escape back to you.”

“Stay with me for the rest of the evening,” Goldie insisted. “I’m nervous about the trip to Baton Rouge, and your hot body distracts me.”

Even when people moved into the family room and talked around us, I remained focused on Goldie. She listened to her friends and family, but I felt her mind on Baton Rouge.

We’d already shown we could work day in and day out in her territory. Now, we needed to prove the same thing in mine.

GOLDIE

The drive to Baton Rouge felt short. I dozed off twenty minutes into the trip and woke up as we entered the city. In the front seat, my parents bobbed their heads to a bouncy Sheryl Crow song. I smiled at them and sat up higher in my seat.

Ahead of us, York rode his jet-black Harley. I smiled at the sight of him before peeking at Mochi in her carrier. The blonde pup opened her eyes half a crack before returning to sleep.

York led us toward his hometown. Past downtown, we took an exit into a quieter slice of suburbia. I’d often fantasized about joining him in this quaint neighborhood. As we approached the house, my mind raced with thoughts of us walking the dogs and even pushing a baby carriage. How did the idea of domestication become so damn inviting?

York’s one-story house had creamy white siding, black shutters, and a red front door. The green lawn offered a mix of hedges and rose bushes. Nova’s touch was everywhere on the exterior.

Blackjack pulled our SUV next to York’s motorcycle on the long driveway. The garage door opened to reveal his other motorcycle and a black truck.

A tense York wore a scowl as he opened my back seat door. I smiled at him and murmured, “We get to bang in your bed tonight.”

York frowned at me, turning Puritan around my parents. I only smiled wider and embraced him.

After helping me out of the SUV, York reached into the third row to grab my crutches.

“Is your house wired up with security?” Blackjack asked as he took Mochi’s carrier. “The neighborhood seems safe, but how secure is the house?”