Page 56 of Beware of Dog (Lean Dogs Legacy #6)

Walsh took another regrettable sip of La Croix. “Nah. He’s got more balls than that.”

Fox smirked.

Shep didn’t run out the front. He returned less than two minutes later, carrying a glass of white wine he set on the coffee table, and a brimming whiskey rocks; sat down next to Fox, his arm hooked over the arm of the bench so there was a half-foot between them.

“Alright,” he said, before either of them could speak, and took a long swallow of his drink.

“This is the part where you guys give me the death stare and threaten me and insult me to my face by being all subtle and British.” The last he said with a curl of his lip, unimpressed.

He took another sip, and a grin tugged at one corner of his mouth.

“What’re you gonna do? You gonna sit on his shoulders and fight me face-to-face if I don’t answer the way you like? ”

Walsh tilted his can toward him. “Fuck you.”

Fox burst out laughing, a rare, bright punch of sound, face creased up from smiling. “Ha! That one’s good, I’ll give you that.”

Shep smiled, pleased with himself. But grew serious as he looked between the two of them. “Guys, we aren’t really doing this, right? You came . That shows you don’t totally disapprove. Do we have to keep doing this whole big brother thing? Or can we fucking get on with our lives?”

“That’s good, too,” Fox said, nodding.

Walsh said, “How is it that you’re a bigger asshole than him?” He tipped his head toward Fox.

“Well,” Shep said, “I work at it.”

Fox looked delighted. He leaned in closer to Shep, and stage whispered, “The thing you’ve got to understand about Kingston Rutherford—”

“It’s a shame Abbie’s going to grow up without a father,” Walsh cut in, “because I’m going to kill you.”

“Promises, promises, jockey boy. The thing you’ve got to understand about King is that he’s the most joyless, boring sod on the planet. He can’t stand to see anyone having any fun.”

Walsh plucked an ice chip from the bucket on the table and flicked it at him. Fox of course batted it away.

Shep pointed to them in turn. “Cass warned me about this. Sibling rivalry. Makes me glad I’m an only child.”

“It’s only a rivalry if there’s some risk of losing at anything,” Fox said. “Which I’m not.”

Had he been drinking, Walsh would have chased Fox’s bait and fallen down the rabbit hole of bitchery. But, clear-headed, he forced his attention onto Shep, where it belonged at the moment.

He nodded to the glass of wine on the table. “Is that for Cass?”

“Yeah, she hates beer.”

“You let her drink?”

Shep’s brows lifted. “ Let her? What, like she’s my kid or something?”

“Well,” Walsh said. It was self-explanatory.

Shep rolled his eyes, but he shifted in a way that made Walsh think a nerve had been struck. “You think kids—college students,” he corrected himself, quickly, “don’t drink at parties if they’re not twenty-one? You want her out drinking with a bunch of fucking frat boys somewhere?”

Walsh sipped his awful bubbly water.

“Yeah,” Shep said, “that’s what I thought.” He pointed to the glass. “She only drinks with me, and it’s only if she’s somewhere safe and I can keep an eye on her.”

“What did I say?” Fox said. “Daddy issues.”

Before Walsh could fire off a retort, Shep sent him a disgusted look. “Gross. Get outta here with that shit.”

Fox angled his head back along the bench, regarding him from half-lidded eyes. “It can’t have escaped your notice, right? Absent father, young girl, older man. You’re filling a certain role in her life.”

“Fuck off.”

“And maybe,” Fox continued, “you like that role.”

“Where’s your off switch, man?”

“It’s broken,” Walsh lamented. “It snapped right off when he was born, the wanker.”

Shep sat forward and put his drink on the table.

“Okay, time out for a sec.” His gaze turned guarded.

“I get that it’s, like, the law that you gotta give me shit.

I can take it. But you get that Cass isn’t a little kid anymore, right?

And that she’s going to be with somebody ?

Am I honest to God the worst possibility? ”

Fox see-sawed his hand in the air.

“You sure you want us to answer that?” Walsh asked.

“I’m sure you’re a dickhead,” Shep said. “Both of you.”

“And you’re not?”

Shep grinned. Stood, and picked up his drink and Cass’s wine. “I know I am. That means I fit right in. I’ll see you later.” And then he walked back down the porch steps and across the lawn.

“He’s got us there,” Fox said.

Walsh barely withheld his smile.

~*~

Dinner wasn’t a true meal, but a grazing spread laid out on the dining room table.

When Cass had drunk her wine and wanted a refill, Shep urged her to go inside and get something to eat, too.

They crossed the lawn hand-in-hand, and walked past Fox and Walsh on the way to the kitchen door, the two of them locked in what looked like a heated debate.

Shep lifted a two-fingered wave as they passed, and Fox saluted him. It was mocking, but his grin was surprisingly true.

Walsh called, “She better not be hungover in the morning,” and Shep shot him the bird over his shoulder.

“What was that?” Cass asked once they were inside.

Shep shook his head and steered her by the shoulders through the crowd in the kitchen, out the other side and across the hall into the dining room. “They wanted to get cute and give me more shit about you.”

She sighed. “I wish they’d stop.”

“Nah, I handled it.”

She craned a glance over her shoulder to check how badly he was bluffing, but his expression was serene.

“They’re insufferable,” she complained, taking a plate off the stack and scanning the offerings: crudité, charcuterie, fruit salad, sausage pinwheels, meatballs simmering in a crock pot. “Which is stupid, because you’re just like them.”

Plates clattered, and she realized her mistake when she glanced over and saw him big-eyed and frozen. “Uh. What?”

“Not exactly like them. That’s not what I meant.”

He righted the plate he’d almost dropped, picked it up, put it back, then picked it up and started loading it with pinwheels. “What did you mean?”

“That you’re insufferable, too.” When he glanced over, she smiled. “They’re just mad they didn’t see this coming. Once they get over it, they’ll see that you fit right in.”

His expression softened. “That’s what I said.”

“See?”

“Although.” He elbowed her lightly farther down the table and she added celery and carrots to her plate. “I don’t know how much I wanna fit in with those guys.”

She elbowed him back with a snort.

A commotion sounded from the kitchen, a sudden raise in voices that sounded like greetings.

“Are we expecting someone else?” Cass wondered aloud.

“Who knows. I don’t spend enough time up here anymore to know who’s coming and going.”

Cass set her plate down on the side table and stepped out into the hall to see…

“Ian! Alec!”

Both of them were dressed down in jeans, and, in Ian’s case, a tucked-in blue button-up under an open cardigan. Ian’s hair was tied in a low knot at the back of his neck, and he opened his arms readily when she moved in for a hug.

“You didn’t think we’d miss it, did you?” he asked against the top of her head.

She’d worried they would, and her eyes stung with a sudden onslaught of gratitude that they’d driven all the way up for her.

“Hi, honey,” Alec said when it was his turn to hug her, and kissed her temple. “You look happy.”

“I am.” She dabbed at her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“And what about me?” a third, familiar, also-British voice asked.

Cass gasped.

Ian cocked a brow and stepped neatly aside.

Devin wore battered jeans, a white t-shirt, and a sherpa-collared denim jacket that made him look like a cowboy.

Somehow, impossibly, the same thick, wheat-colored hair that he’d passed down to Walsh still had a little gold mixed in with the gray.

He’d grown a short, neatly-trimmed beard since she’d seen him last, and it suited him.

She’d thought she wouldn’t care, that it wouldn’t matter if he came, and that if he did show up, late, most likely, she would act cool and aloof and not let on how much she cared, given she hadn’t seen him in more than a year.

But when he opened his arms and said, “Hello, pet,” all of that went right out the window.

“Dad!” She rushed to close the distance, and he caught her up tight in both arms and swung her around like he used to do when she was a girl. He wasn’t much taller than her, but he was, as ever, shockingly strong, still as lean, and wiry, and well-trained as ever.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” she said shakily, muffled against his shoulder. His coat smelled like cigarettes.

He scoffed. “You thought I’d miss my baby girl getting married?” He pushed her back at arm’s length, and then tweaked her nose, like he’d done when she was little.

She made a face and tried to pull back, but he reeled her back in and kissed her cheek. “Have a little faith in your old man, hm?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

He pushed her back, squeezed her biceps, and let go of her, this time. “Are you going to introduce me?”

“What?” He put an arm around her shoulders, and locked her in against his side as he turned toward Shep, who waited with hands at his sides, expression carefully schooled. “Dad, you’ve already met him. You’ve worked with him.”

“Right.” Devin smiled in an alarming way; it was charming, but hungry-wolf sharp. “But then he was just Shep. Now he’s to be my son-in-law. I want a proper introduction.”

“Really?” she complained, but Devin stared expectantly at Shep, undeterred. “ Okay . Dad, this is Shep. Frank. Frank Shepherd. Shep, this is my dad, Devin, which you already know.” She flapped a hand between them, more pomp than the moment deserved, really.

After a beat, Shep stepped forward, and stuck out his hand. A muscle in his cheek twitched, and Cass knew he wanted to say this is bullshit . Instead, he said, “Good to meet you. Sir.”

Cass bit her lip. Hard.