“He’s worried the other dogs will traumatize that bug-eyed rat of his.”

“They won’t, and Tyrone is adorable.”

“He looks like a dog from Mars.”

“Maybe a little.” She snapped beans while boys shouted, dogs barked. Male laughter rolled over it all. “Go on outside. You know you want to. I’m fine here. It’s like a small sanity break.”

“If you say so.”

He did want to go out, especially since he’d stowed the old Super Soaker in the shed for just such an occasion.

When Hope pulled in, a war raged. Kids, dogs, grown men, all soaked to the skin, battled with a variety of water shooting weapons.

She eyed the combatants warily. She could probably trust the boys not to aim in her direction. The dogs simply had to be avoided. But she knew very well grown men could rarely resist a fresh target.

She got out carefully, using the car door as a shield as she reached in the back.

And caught the gleam in Ryder’s eye through his dripping hair.

“I have pies!” she called out. “If I get wet, the pies get wet. Think about it.”

He lowered his weapon. “What kind—” And, vulnerable, took a shot in the back from the youngest water warrior.

“I got you good!” Murphy shouted, then screamed in hysterical delight as Ryder gave chase.

Hope took advantage of the distraction, and her cherry pie shield, to make a beeline for the house.

“Everyone out there’s soaked,” Hope announced, then spotted Avery, wineglass in hand, a man’s work shirt draped to her knees. “Casualty?”

“I gave as good as I got, but they ganged up on me. Men can’t be trusted.”

“Now everybody’s here.” Justine gave Hope a quick hug. “Willy B, why don’t you start the grill?”

“Well . . .” The pug curled in his lap, Willy B gave the door a dubious look.

“Oh, I’ll fix that. Hope, get yourself a drink.” So saying, Justine walked out. Curious, Hope walked over, looked out. Watched Justine turn on her garden hose.

She fired without warning or mercy as cries of Mom! and Gran! echoed.

“Time for a truce. Y’all dig up some dry clothes and clean up. We’re eating in a half hour or so.”

WARDROBE MIGHT HAVE leaned toward eccentric, but the food struck a perfect note. There was restaurant talk as Avery was counting down in days now. Construction talk, town talk, baby talk, and wedding talk.

Plates cleared, the kids and dogs raced back for the yard restricted by female decree to bubbles and balls.