“Arrggh!” She pushed past him. “Asshole!”

He started laughing, then Marissa was back. She grabbed his face and kissed him on the cheek—then she slapped him. Hard. It was a very Marissa kind of thing.

Without another word—or slap—she stormed off.

Brendon shook his head. “Never know when to back off, do ya?”

“No. Not even a little.” Mitch held up his empty beer bottle. “Want another?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Mitch took the empty bottle from his brother and walked into the kitchen. The females were prepping more food, but he could smell Sissy’s mac and cheese above it all. He started to walk over to it, ready to dive in, when he heard the knock on the back door.

Dropping the bottles in a trash can for recyclables—his mother was surprisingly “green”—he headed over to the door. But when he pulled it open, he could only stare.

“You going to invite me in?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Mitch stepped back, allowing the older man in.

“Heard you had some trouble.”

Mitch laughed. “You could say that.”

“I’m glad to see you’re okay.”

“Thanks.”

Brendon walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Ronnie wants a—” He stopped…and gaped. “Dad?”

“Brendon.”

“What are you doing here?”

Alden Shaw awkwardly adjusted the pack he had attached to his back. “I got a message from your sister. It took a while to get to me, though. I was at a game park in Africa.”

Mitch had to admire his father on that. He loved to run with the big cats when he could and traveled from Africa to India to Siberia constantly. Mitch didn’t even know when his father was last in New York, much less Philadelphia.

“I needed to see if my family was okay.” He glanced between his two sons. “You look okay.”

It took a lot not to laugh, so Mitch asked, “Would you like to stay for a while?”

“If your mother doesn’t mind.”

“It’s my party. I want you here. And she adores her son.”

Alden smiled. “Well, when you put it like that.” He grabbed the straps of his backpack and began to slide them off his shoulders. He turned so Brendon could help him get the pack off. And as the two took care of that, Sissy walked in the room. She winked at Mitch and motioned to the mac and cheese. He nodded vigorously, and with a laugh, Sissy went to dish some up for him.

The backpack removed, his father turned back around.

“You hungry?”

“Starving.”

Mitch motioned to the table filled with food. “We’ve got stuff here and in the dining room, so—”

“Janie Mae?”

Sissy froze in the middle of heaping food on Mitch’s plate and, spoon raised, she slowly turned. “What did you call me?”

“Sorry. When I saw you from behind, I thought you looked like—”

“My mother?”

Alden held his hands up, palms out, just like Mitch did a lot. “Your mother when she was nineteen…if that helps.”

“It probably doesn’t,” Brendon muttered to Mitch.

That spoon still raised—although Mitch was grateful it wasn’t a knife—Sissy asked, “You knew my mother?”

“It was a very long time ago, but yeah.” And then he smiled. And Mitch knew that smile. He’d bet he had it a lot himself the last couple of weeks with Sissy.

Sissy’s eyes briefly closed in horror. “I can’t believe this.”

“It was nothing really.” Alden grinned again. “Just a weekend.”

Damn. At least forty years or so later, and the old man could still remember it like it was yesterday. And with that look on his face—what a yesterday it was.

“You and my mother?”

Alden, trying to help, but not really, added, “It was nothing. She was just using me to make some wolf who was ignoring her jealous. Although I was more than happy to help her out.”

Mitch pushed his father toward the hallway. “Dad, why don’t you go see Ma?”

“Do I have to?”

Sissy let out a breath. “Everywhere I go that woman haunts me!”

Mitch took the spoon out of Sissy’s hand, trying to ignore the thick bits of cheese, ham, and noodles stuck to it, calling his name. “You’re missing the big picture here.”

“I am?”

“Your mother. My father.”

“You’re not helping.”

“And some wolf she was trying to make jealous. Imagine if that just pops up during, say, Thanksgiving dinner? Or Easter. Or a baptism. Perhaps when the local preacher is about…Sissy, imagine the possibilities.”

“Mitchell, that is a horrible, despicable idea.” Sissy grabbed Mitch by his T-shirt, jerking him close. “And I can say with all honesty, I’ve never wanted you more.”

Sissy walked out on the back porch and sat on the stoop between Dez and Ronnie Lee.

“What’s going on?” She reached over and took her godson from Ronnie’s arms. He giggled and hissed.

“Dez is having a hard time dealing with her new life.”

“It’s a little late since she decided to breed with the cat.”

“That’s not it. My problem is this whole subversive underworld you people have.”

“Underworld?” Sissy quietly asked Ronnie.