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“Almost?”

“I have standards. Potato salad is merely the appetizer to my affection.”

I laughed, turning away from the grill to find a quieter spot near the fence. Music played from someone’s phone, something with a beat that kept the evening moving. Trent and Ollie were arguing about something near the cooler, both of them gesturing with sodas in hand. Riot sat in a lawn chair with Calvin curled against him, the two of them easy in a way that struck something deep.

After that whole Miguel fiasco, it was good to see Calvin so relaxed. I still had the scar from the bullet I’d taken that night, but Calvin being safe had been worth it.

“It starts now,” I said. “Whenever you get here.”

“Traffic is a personal attack.” There was a grin in Niles’ voice.

“Take your time.” I ran my hand over my chest, noticing my smile hadn’t faded.

“Nope, I’m already on the road. My car is making sounds again, and I’m choosing to ignore them because your grill is more important than my transmission.”

“That’s a terrible choice.”

Niles snorted. “My entire life is terrible choices.” He paused. “The only exception is you.”

I could hear his engine in the background, that familiar whine that meant he needed to bring the car back to the shop soon.

“Are you wearing the skirt?” I asked.

“That is not a question you get to ask before I arrive.”

“I’m asking anyway.” Images of Niles in that skirt that barely covered his ass came to mind. My wolf growled softly, dying to see him in it again. Niles had the body to get away with wearing one without looking ridiculous.

“You’ll find out when I get there.”

“Fine. Keep your secrets.” I chuckled.

“Always.” His tone shifted, growing lighter. “I’ll be there in ten. Don’t let Calvin eat all the potato salad.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Hanging up, I pocketed the phone and headed back to the grill. Riot caught my eye and raised a brow. I shrugged. His grin widened, and he whispered something to Calvin that made his mate duck his head and laugh.

“Food ready?” Trent called from the cooler just as Preacher’s arms circled around him. I’d never seen Prez look happier than when he had his mate in his arms.

“Two minutes,” Drift announced, turning over ribs.

Spencer had given up on fetch and was sitting cross-legged on the grass, letting Noodles chew on his shoelace. The puppy’s tail beat the ground hard enough to kick up dust.

I helped at the grill, flipping the last round of burgers, then I stepped back from the heat. The smell of charcoal and seared meat filled the air, mixing with cut grass and citronella candles.

Headlights swept across the yard, indicating Niles’ arrival. With the building between us, the engine noise was louder than it should’ve been. I set the spatula down and wiped my hands on a rag.

As I made it around the clubhouse, Niles was climbing out. My cock twitched at the sight.

The skirt was black, short, making my mouth go dry. He had on a fitted white top that left his arms bare, chunky boots that added two inches to his height, and sunglasses pushed up into his hair. Green eyes found me across the lot. His mouth pulled into a grin that was all trouble.

“Hey,” he said, walking toward me, the skirt swaying with every step. “Sorry I’m late. My car tried to die twice on the way over.”

“Still running?”

“Barely. We have an understanding.” He stopped in front of me. “Smells delicious out here. My stomach wants to find food and conquer it.”

“Come on, sparkles. Let’s get your stomach fed.” Taking his hand, I led him around the side of the building to the backyard.