Chapter TWO-ZEKE

“Are you serious right now?” I snarl, glaring at Dante like he’s just asked me to donate a kidney. Or worse—go into town during tourist season.

“Look, I’d go,” he says, already distracted, eyes glued to the tree line, “but Avery’s got that morning sickness bad, and Rosie Posie won’t change out of her fur. Come on, man. Do me a solid?”

Sure enough, his cub—currently in full fuzzy-wuzzy Grizzly mode—is sauntering toward the woods like she owns the damn forest.

Which, to be fair, she kinda does.

I grit my teeth.

“This couldn’t have been, I don’t know, planned better?”

Dante ignores that, starts stripping down, boots off and shirt flung on the porch like we don’t have rules about public Shifting. Though, in his defense, this is the ranch. Everyone here is in the know.

“Her name’s Casey. She was at the wedding,” he says like I don’t fucking know who he means. “You’re picking her up from Av’s old place. Don’t make it weird.”