• • •

“Did you get the beer?” Lillian called as soon as Morgan and Stevie walked through the door that Saturday. Morgan had arranged to switch her evening on-call shift to Monday so that she and Stevie would not be called away in the middle of the party.

“Shit.”

“I texted you to remind you.”

“No,” said Morgan. “I mean we’re covered in shit. Beer is in the truck.”

Lillian poked her head into the mudroom and wrinkled her nose. Her dogs, on the other hand, sniffed appreciatively at the scent of manure.

“I see you’ve been playing with cows again.”

“I should have gone into small animal medicine,” said Morgan. She pulled off her shirt and jeans and shoved them into the washer they kept in the mudroom for this purpose.

“Cute undies,” Lillian said as she vanished.

Morgan’s briefs sported paw prints and dog bones. “Thanks,” she shouted after Lillian.

“Don’t you want to see mine?” Stevie added.

“Definitely not,” Lillian said from the kitchen.

“Rude.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow as Stevie wriggled out of her pants. “Dinosaurs?”

“Roar.”

“Where do you even buy those for adults?”

“I have my sources.” Stevie bounded into the house, and Morgan heard Lillian laugh. She shook her head at the assembled dogs, all of whom looked disappointed they had not been allowed to roll in the caked muck.

A hot shower rinsed her last appointment off her skin. Emilia would arrive in an hour, assuming she still wanted to come, and the prospect was doing not entirely unpleasant things to her stomach. She wanted to get to know her. Know her, or know her? asked an inner voice. Too many years of talking to Stevie had done permanent damage to her psyche.

The evening also had the potential to turn into a disaster. She did not need her friends playing matchmaker, however well-intentioned. She would date when she was ready. The fact that Emilia was exactly her type made their insinuations all the more aggravating, and she prayed Stevie would behave. Angie and Lillian, she knew, would at least wait until Emilia left before pouncing.

The hot water gave out with its customary lack of warning. Two showers plus the laundry were more than it enjoyed handling at one time. Stevie yelped from the bathroom at the other end of the house.

Morgan dressed in her favorite pair of jeans and a soft button-down that would keep off the chill of the coming evening, but was still cool enough to withstand the heat of the kitchen. The fact that, as Lillian often pointed out, this particular shirt matched her eyes did not enter her consideration. Or so she told herself.

“Where’s Ange?” she asked Lillian and Stevie when she returned downstairs to help set up.

“Dealing with the kennel,” said Stevie. “And pretending she’s pissed we’re throwing her a party.”

“Did you check the propane tanks on the grill?” Lillian asked as she surveyed the kitchen.

“Yeah,” said Morgan. “And there’s a spare just in case. House looks good.”