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Did the specter of thirty come with this much responsibility?

Christ, he hoped not.

Noah’s beast of a black truck was already in the driveway when he arrived. Looked like it was a family affair, after all. Hunter’s brother had a crazy security job that kept him out of pocket most of the time.

Tristan parked along the cul-de-sac at the center of the semi-circle of houses. Dogs barking and laughter greeted him as he approached the door. The storm door was open leaving a newly installed screen door as the only barrier between him and the chaos.

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

Nails scrabbled over tile, thumped over carpet, then changed to marble as a dog came tear-assing around the corner.

“Sammy, come back here you, little fucker.”

Hunter came running around the corner and down the hall. Sammy, Kennedy’s dog, had a turkey leg in his mouth and a wiggling four-pound dog hanging from said turkey leg.

Tristan held up his bag above his head. Sammy managed to flip off Cujo, Hunter’s dog—well, sort of a dog, more like a toy in Tristan’s opinion—against the wall. There was barely a snarl before Cujo hurtled after the collie mix and leapt on his back.

Sammy’s butt slammed into the screen door, then he took off back down the hall with Cujo flying like a cape off his shoulders.

“Hi. Welcome to chaos. Would you like a drink? I need several.” Hunter held up a finger. “But first, I have to murder a few dogs.” He disappeared from view. “Stop laughing at them and help me, you asshole.”

Tristan heard male laughter. Actually more like choking hisses of breath between guffaws. He approached the end of the hallway carefully to see Noah’s big hand wrapped around the turkey leg. Cujo picked that moment to sink his little teeth into the space between Noah’s thumb and forefinger.

Noah swore and pitched forward. Then it devolved into a fur pile, a rolling turkey leg, and Kennedy’s shrill whistle to break it all up. Cujo had his tiny mouth around the meatiest part of the leg and was trying to drag it along the carpet when Kennedy bent down and dislodged it from his mouth.

“Bad dog.”

His little face was greasy from the meat and unapologetic.

Tristan almost turned around right then and there. At least his loft was quiet, but Kennedy’s gaze zeroed in on him. “And you, in the kitchen. I need your help to make things pretty now that I’m missing a damn leg from my presentation.” Kennedy went back to the island, muttering something about the dogs ruining her first family function.

Noah fo

llowed Tristan into the kitchen. “Nice to see you. Thought you had to work today.”

Tristan went over to the sink and snagged the little first aid kit Kennedy stashed under there. There had been a few fingers in peril when he gave her knife lessons during the summer. He set the kit on the counter next to Noah. “I’m playing hooky. Though from the sounds of it, maybe I should have gone in. Has it been like this all day?”

Noah washed his hands and ignored the first aid box. He only hissed a little when the water hit the little bite mark. “Christ, Cujo is aptly named.”

“Don’t get between him and meat.” Hunter came into the kitchen and brushed a kiss along Kennedy’s temple. “Right, Kenny?”

She pushed him away. “Everyone out of my kitchen. It’s the size of a postage stamp with all you tall men in here, for God’s sake.”

“Aw, c’mon, babe. Don’t be like that.”

“Don’t babe me. Your dog literally jumped from my step stool, to the bar stool, to the counter.”

“Now he’s my dog? Not our dog?”

“Damn right.” Kennedy pointed at her platter of meat and the pieces scattered over the counter.

Hunter picked a piece of white meat off the opposite side. She slapped his hand. “Oh, my God. Get out. Just go. Take Noah and sit at the table.”

Noah’s eyebrow rose as he paused with the bottle just before his lips. “What did I do?”

She pushed Noah and Hunter both out of her space. “You’re guilty by association. Every Jordan out of my kitchen.”

Hunter looked back over his shoulder. “You’re a Jordan now, woman.”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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