Page 88 of Courting Danger

“Oh?” Pope said. “What did he have to say this morning?”

“Aside from giving me shit, he told me the report came back on the grocery store, and they determined that it was the weight of the water, coupled with dry rot in some of the support timbers, that caused the roof to cave in. The rest of the structure has been scheduled for demolition, and they are already taking bids on the rebuild. Then he asked whose brilliant idea it was to add stitches and a concussion to the grocery list.”

So much for eating his sandwich. The edge of the bread hit his nose instead of his lips when Pope doubled over and started laughing again.

“I told him not to be surprised if the next time he went into Joker’s Wild, the chandeliers were ear level on him again,” Danger grumbled.

“Meh, that one’s kind of old now, isn’t it?” Roan pointed out. “If you’re gonna get him back, it’s got to be better than the last time.”

“Wait,” Pope said, eying the pair while still struggling to regain his composure. “Did you help him with that?”

“Guilty,” Roan admitted, half his sandwich already gone.

“Just remember something, both of you,” Pope said. “If he uses you for a lawn dart, it’s on your heads, even if they’re sticking through the wall.”

Grunge woofed as if in agreement before licking the side of Danger’s face and, in a deft move, stealing the last piece of his sandwich from his hand, wolfing it down in a single bite.

“You’re welcome,” Danger said, rubbing those floppy yellow ears. “But that’s the last of my food you’re getting.”

Grunge didn’t think so and let Danger know it by staring at him with sad puppy eyes until Danger caved, ripped off a small piece of another sandwich, and fed it to him, mutteringfine, but no more.

“Give it up,” Pope said. “He’s already got you wrapped around his paw.”

“Ya know what,” Danger said as he leaned to kiss the dog on the snout. “I can live with that.”

“As long as no one else drops a roof on your head,” Pope muttered as Danger kissed the dog again.

Danger’s glare, if one could call it that, was spoiled when Grunge licked him on the cheek. “Et tu, Brute?”

“Yup,” Pope replied, smirking at him. “And the name is Sir.”