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“I can handle myself.” Jane’s voice is soft but firm, and for a moment… Griffin looks impressed.

But Wes? He looks ready to deck Griffin.

“Relax, Archer,” Griffin says, holding up his hands. “Just making conversation.”

“Make it somewhere else,” Wes mutters under his breath.

This is going to be fun. I look over to Abby and wink, but she just shakes her head. Oh yeah. This is definitely going to be fun.

***

While Wes and Griffin quietly exchange death glares, I slip away with Abby to the side of the deck, where it’s quieter.

“You okay?” I murmur, running my thumb down the crease in her chin.

Her smile is soft, her eyes warm as they meet mine. “I am.”

“Jake’s having fun,” I say, watching as he runs around with Spotty near the lake.

“He loves being here.” Abby’s voice is softer now, her gaze drifting back to me. “And so do I.”

My heart clenches at her words. “Abs …” I murmur, leaning closer, my hand brushing her cheek.

Her voice is barely a whisper as her lips brush mine.

The kiss is slow, tender… but there’s heat simmering just beneath the surface.

I deepen the kiss, my arms wrapping around her as I pull her closer.

And for a moment… the chaos fades.

But then…

“Mrow.”

I barely have time to register the sound before a familiar weight lands on my foot.

“Biscuit!” Abby gasps, pulling back slightly, her eyes widening as she looks down.

Sure enough, Biscuit—my orange tabby affectionately known as ‘the puck’ for his tendency to chase anything that moves— is staring up at us with an expression that screams,Don’t mind me. Just supervising.

“Buddy, not cool.” I groan, but I can’t help the laugh bubbling up.

Before I can move, Mitts, my fluffy gray with an attitude to match her name, saunters over like she owns the place and plops down right between Abby and me.

Abby bites her lip, trying not to laugh. “You didn’t mention they’re possessive.”

“They think they run the show, indoors and out.” I chuckle, trying to nudge Mitts out of the way, but she just stretches lazily, refusing to budge.

“And where’s…”

Before Abby can finish her sentence, Hat Trick—my sleek black cat with a mischievous streak— darts around the corner, his eyes locked on Spotty.

Spotty, who had been peacefully sitting with Jake, notices Hat Trick’s movement and immediately springs into action.

“Spotty, no!” Abby calls out, but it’s too late.

The Dalmatian bolts toward Hat Trick, who, of course, thinks it’s a game.