“No,” Dana yelled just as Roscoe fell on the cake table, scattering frosting, utensils, and plates.

The music stopped. Everyone froze. Roscoe looked around at all the people, slid a little in the frosting, and then turned to view the remains of the cake. He struck fast, his entire face diving into the mound of frosting and cake, growling as he ate his way to the bottom. Then he lifted his head, licking his lips. White frosting and pink roses covered his nose and whiskers and most of his head.

Wolfe couldn’t move. His entire body had been stunned into immobility.

“My cake!” the bride screamed.

Dana rushed for the dog. “It’s okay, Sally. You already cut the cake, fed it to each other, and we put the top layer in the freezer for you to keep for your first anniversary along with the topper. It’s all good.” She reached the dog and tried to grab him, her fingers sliding through the frosting covering his fur.

Mitch snorted next to Wolfe, trying unsuccessfully to keep from laughing.

Sally ran forward and shoved Dana. “You bitch. You jealous bitch.”

Wolfe started to move, and Mitch grasped his arm. “Hold it.”

Dana’s sisters came up on her side, and Lissa was having a difficult time trying to stop laughing. Dana held up a hand, keeping the other one on the happily panting dog. “Sally, this was an accident. Honest. We’re sorry. We’ll lock Roscoe up.”

Sally moved toward Dana, and Wolfe tensed.

“Wait a minute,” Charlotte said. “Everyone, relax and knock it off.”

Sally swept her hand out. “Relax? Look at my cake.”

Lissa laughed harder.

Sally glared and took another menacing step toward Dana.

“Shouldn’t we do something?” Wolfe asked.

“No. Just hold on a sec. Don’t worry,” Mitch said, reaching for a beer on the table behind him.

Evie and Roberta marched up and quickly took care of business, sending everyone off to dance or drink. The music started again, and Wolfe made his way to Dana as the caterers started to clean up the mess. “I’ve got him.”

She looked up, frosting on her cheek. “You sure?”

He gently reached out to wipe off the frosting. “Yeah. I’ll go drop him in the river and clean him off.” He whistled, and Roscoe jumped down to the ground, happily drunk and high on sugar.

Wolfe sighed. He wasn’t sure whether he owed the dog gratitude or a dunking.

* * *

Wolfe twirled the whiskey in his glass, sitting bare-chested on the king-sized bed in his darkened hotel room, which was lit only by the moon’s rays sneaking through the tall window. Roscoe was sprawled across the sofa, sleeping off the booze. The day with Dana’s family had shown him a world he hadn’t realized existed. He didn’t belong in that world, but what a temptation it was. His mood remained unsettled at the thought.