Ivy was the first to the table, predictably taking the chair with her back to the wall. Jenks took the one next to her, and I reluctantly sat with my back to the room, scooting my chair in with a thump that was unheard over the music. Depressed, I gazed at the wall behind Ivy. Swell. I was going to have to look at a stuffed mink nailed to the wall all night.

The hair on the back of my neck prickled, and I turned when Ivy’s eyes jerked to the door. Our Were escort had arrived, looking more out of place than we did. I wondered how long Walter would be able to hold all three packs together once the “focus” was destroyed. Seconds, maybe? Brett was with them, bruised and moving slow. Walter must have farmed him out to the street pack as punishment. Clearly he was at the bottom of their social ladder and taking a lot of abuse. Not my fault, I thought. At least he was alive.

They settled at the bar, and I gave Brett a sarcastic “kiss-kiss” bunny ear gesture before I turned to sit properly. Watching the humans around them stiffen and mutter, I was glad my little party of freethinking sexual gamers had already been accepted.

Jenks’s casual tracking of someone behind me gave me warning, and I leaned away when Becky bustled forward. She stood a step farther back than usual, but after Ivy’s stellar welcome, I didn’t blame her. It was noisy, and I wished they’d turn the music down. I couldn’t hear a thing over the electronic pop music. Must have been retros night at the old Squirrel’s End.

“Welcome back,” she said, looking sincere though nervous. “What can I get you? Twenty-five bucks gets you a wristband and all the beer on tap you can drink.”

Damn. Either it was really good beer or the locals could slam it.

Ivy wasn’t listening and Jenks was making eyes at one of the women playing pool. She looked like Matalina with the cue in her hand and her little filmy skirt that barely covered her butt when she leaned over to take a shot. Disgusted, I tapped his shin. What was it with men?

Jenks jumped, and I smiled sweetly at him. “Could we have a plate of fries?” I asked, thinking that to ask them to put chili on it would get us thrown out.

“You betcha. Anything else?”

Eyeing her over his sunglasses, Jenks became sex incarnate. “What’s on the dessert menu, Becky? I need something … sweet.”

Ivy raised one eyebrow and slowly turned her attention to him. We exchanged looks as the matronly woman grew flustered, not at what he said, but at how he’d said it.

“Peach cobbler?” Becky encouraged. “Made it yesterday, so the top is still crunchy.”