“What did?” she asked.
Cal gave her a beautiful smile. “I feel better. You’re pretty.”
Morgan linked his hand with hers and squeezed. “So are you.”
Dalton grinned at Raven. “You’re pretty, too,” he said. Raven laughed. “I’ll be back for my keys tomorrow, and maybe you’ll even give me your name. My name is Dalton. Dalton Pierce.”
Raven jerked back. Her mouth made a tiny little O, and shock filled her eyes. “Pierce?” she whispered. “Your name is Pierce?”
Dalton didn’t seem to notice her reaction. He slapped his hand on the bar. “Yes, sirree. This is Cal and Tristan. We own Pierce Brothers Construction. You’re pretty. I’d like to take you out.”
Morgan would’ve laughed, but Raven suddenly looked like she’d seen a ghost. She pressed her hand against her trembling mouth and gazed at each of them, a frantic look on her face. What had just happened?
“Raven? Are you okay?”
Raven backed away from the bar. Her voice turned to ice. “Get out of my bar.”
Morgan blinked. “But—”
She couldn’t finish because Raven turned and disappeared.
Dalton gave a longing sigh. “I don’t think she likes me.”
Morgan made a note to check on Raven later in the week. She didn’t know what had happened, but she didn’t have time to figure it out now. She led the men out of the bar and into her tiny sports car. Tristan’s head bumped against the roof, and Cal groaned as he folded his long legs up so his chin almost rested on his knees.
“Open the windows,” Dalton croaked. “All I smell is Tristan’s breath.”
Morgan hit the button and the roof rolled open. They breathed a sigh of relief. She smiled and drove.
The stars streaked overhead, and the wind was warm as it whipped against her face and lifted her hair. She loved driving a convertible and the small sense of freedom it gave. Finally she pulled up to the mansion and helped them inside the house.
Balin and Gandalf leaped up, knocking down Tristan and unleashing an array of curses from Dalton as he fended off paws and licking tongues.
“They need obedience school, dude,” Dalton said.
Cal surrendered to the affection. “They flunked out twice. I don’t know what else to do. Someone’s gotta give them water. And walk them.”
“I’ll do it,” Morgan said. “Just tell me what to do.”
Dalton groaned. “I gotta go to bed. Night, guys.”
Tristan stumbled to the stairs, fingers pressing against his head. “Me too. I’m too old for this shit.”
“Night,” she called to them. She placed her hands on her hips. “Okay, what do I do for the dogs? How do I walk them?”
“You don’t. They’ll trample you. Just let them go potty down the path toward the woods.”
“Do I watch them? Or would they rather have privacy?”
He grinned. “Just let them do their thing. Then give them fresh water. I gotta sit.”
She led him to the couch and brought him a glass of water. “Here, drink this.” Once she was sure he wasn’t going to get sick, Morgan faced the dogs. Shaking with enthusiasm at the thought of a different routine, they waited. “Okay, pups. Let’s do this.” She opened the door and they bounded out with her, following her down the woodsy path they’d taken to get to the shed earlier.
Morgan dragged in a deep breath as the darkness closed over her, but the sound of paws in the brush and panting breath soothed her. Gandalf and Balin wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Gandalf squatted, then gave her a sidelong look of concern, so she turned her back and let him go without an audience. Balin kept sniffing and running ahead, leading her in a bit deeper.
“Okay, guys, let’s head back,” she called.
They gave her a joyous look. Then disappeared into the brush.
Her heart pounded faster. Something brushed against her leg, and she jerked back, frantically shaking her foot. This was creepy. Where’d they go? The sound of bushes moving and a low whimpering echoed. Oh, my God, what if a bear got them? No, there weren’t any bears out here, but could a gopher hurt them? A deer?
“Gandalf! Balin! Get over here now!” she whispered fiercely.
A low bark. A rustling. Oh, hell, what was that? She took a few steps back, eyes trained on the shaking bush in front. “Doggies?” Caught in the middle of a horror film, she moaned, wondering if she should run back to the house and get Cal’s help, or stay and fight.
A small black-and-white furry thing raced in front of her.
Skunk!
Morgan began to turn and get out of the danger zone, but suddenly both dogs leaped out of the bush, and a scream broke from her lips. She fell back on her ass in the brush, and then the dogs were on her, thinking it was a fabulous game of hide-and-go-seek that they had won.
As she fought them off and scrambled to her feet, the smell hit her first. The stench was so bad, she gagged, pressing her hand over her nose to try to ward it off. She had to get away from the skunk’s spray, so Morgan began running out of the woods, and the dogs followed, barking wildly.
Finally she reached the house and breathed in a sigh of relief. Then gagged again.
Oh, no.
The stink of skunk was everywhere. As the dogs circled her, their fur gave off waves of scent, and when she lifted her shirt up and sniffed, Morgan stumbled back.
Oh, no.
They’d gotten sprayed by a skunk. All of them. Her first official walk with the dogs and she came back like this. Cal was going to kill her.