Bella wasn't satisfied. She barked again, louder.

  "It's only Dex, Bella." It was hard to find breath to speak.

  "Only Dex." His voice was ragged.

  Bella yipped again.

  "In a minute, she'll be out of her basket, nipping at your ankles. Say something to her." I bit his shoulder and ran my tongue up his neck.

  "It's me, Bella. Shel and I just having fun. Like you and Charlie." He sucked my neck and whispered to me, "You left Charlie and her alone when they were doing their thing. You'd think she could return the favor."

  He pounded into me. I wrapped my legs around his waist. The small of my back hit the wall again and again.

  Dex slid his hands behind my back, taking the beating on his knuckles. But nothing stopped the force of our passion.

  "Harder," I whispered. "Don't stop at the paintings. Shake the paint off the walls."

  Another bark, this time more admonishing, less threatened and worried.

  "She's telling us there are puppies watching." I sucked his earlobe.

  He muttered a curse. "Their eyes are closed." He caught me in another kiss, hot with need, as he speared into me again and again.

  My desire ran hot and wild. I dug my heels into his back and kissed him, feeling like my heart would burst. Hoping he understood what I was showing him with my need. Seeing how vulnerable I was making myself.

  We pounded into each other, each thrust bringing me closer. The pictures rattled dangerously overhead as we made our own earthquake.

  Each thrust of his gave him more and more possession of me. I was his. My heart was his. He had to understand that.

  Finally, the wildness overtook me. I let out a moan of pleasure and let myself go. He'd scaled the walls of my heart, as well as my body. I became slicker and wetter—

  "Oh, babe. Shel—" He shook with the release, bracing me against the wall.

  I held him while he tensed and shuddered. He rested his forehead against my shoulder, breathing hard.

  "I love you," I whispered.

  "Wow." He rested against me. He finally looked me in the eye. "I'll always love you, Shel. Even if you never marry me."

  "Even if you never get the chance to have one of my exes sing at our wedding?"

  "Yeah. Even then."

  I tried to unwrap my legs from his waist and slide down.

  But he held me in place. "Not on your life. Stay where you are. I'm carrying you to the bedroom. Where we will do that again."

  "And again. And again." I nibbled his ear and laughed as he carried me down the hall.

  Chapter Eleven

  Firedance

  Dex

  The dog-sitter arrived around seven in the morning. I woke with a smile on my face and anxiety in the pit of my stomach. How would I fare with Shelby's parents? She'd done surprisingly well with mine, all things considered. Including being blindsided by Mom's surprise wedding package win.

  I'd been a neglectful dog dad lately. I had Charlie with me at the office all day, but I had to leave him with Linda overnight and have her bring Charlie to the office for the workday. Male dogs shouldn't be around their puppies until they were at least fifteen days old, preferably closer to three or four weeks old. I missed having Charlie around all the time and Linda said Charlie missed me.

  Linda was with Charlie today, which meant we had Tim the sitter for Bella and the puppies. Tim was one of those sitters who was particularly good with puppies and new mom dogs. He was a gentle, caring soul to his core.

  Shelby fussed over Bella and the puppies, giving and re-giving Tim instructions before we left.

  Though the days had been growing shorter since the summer solstice, the sun still rose indecently early. For most people. I usually existed on just hours of sleep. Such was the life of an entrepreneur. It was light and already getting hot by the time we arrived at the airport and boarded the jet for an even hotter spot. Valley of Fire didn't exactly sound refreshing right now. Out of the frying pan and into the fire—exactly.

  I'd been trying to analyze my feelings of jealousy since yesterday. What did Alex have on me? Why was I jealous of a love that had died? Had I wanted to be Shelby's first real love, like she was mine? And what did that matter?

  Was it my geek past coming back to haunt me? Why did all of Shelby's exes have to be good-looking, talented guys? Guys in the entertainment field? Guys so different from me?

  As the jet took off, we settled in. Our flight attendant served the breakfast I'd requested.

  I looked at Shelby over my cup of coffee, smiling intimately. The jet had a bedroom…

  But it was clear she was too nervous for what I had in mind. The mile-high club would have to wait.

  "How likely is it that your parents can top my mom and her wedding package?" I asked.

  "Vegas odds are against it. Clearly." Her smile made me smile.

  "Any potential traps I should be aware of?"

  "Just be yourself. My parents are very accepting. They've loved all of my exes, simply because I loved them."

  "Very discriminating." I couldn't help kidding her. "And if you brought home a serial killer? What then? 'As long as you were in love with him' still hold?"

  "Haven't tested that case yet." Shelby seemed lighthearted, but I sensed she was holding something back.

  "What?" I couldn't help pressing her.

  She bit her lip in that enticing way she had. It made her vulnerable and sexy at the same time. "They have reservations about your wealth."

  "What?"

  "Just keep it in the background, okay? No bragging."

  "I don't brag—"

  She raised an eyebrow.

  I sighed. This was going to be a long day. "Punished for success."

  My phone pinged with a series of texts. Work related, I thought. But when I looked at them, they were from my social media PR/security team, the team I'd hired to do damage control over the Alex fiasco and PR nightmare. The team I'd hired to let the world know Shelby and I were still together and to shut down Alex's claims to the contrary.

  "Dex?" Shelby gave me a concerned look.

  "No." I waved her concern aside. "It's good news. Our PR firm is handling the Alex bridal fair problem. They say we're getting good social media interaction and engagement with our posts stating that we're still a thing."

  I grinned. Take that, you crooning douche. Just try to out-social-media me.

  The flight was relatively pleasant. I worked while Shelby, inspired by being in the clouds, worked in her sketchpad on her lettering art. She had a new concept for a lettering style that she was playing with and excited about.

  We went through a spot of turbulence as we flew over the Sierra Nevadas. But despite some bumpiness, we arrived according to schedule. Our rental car was waiting for us. Fortunately, I'd resisted the idea of buying a car as a gift. It sounded like her parents would have taken that as bragging. Or offering a bribe, a trade for their daughter. Here's a cool, tricked-out car in exchange for your blessing. At least it wasn't a cow or a sheep. I hated to tell them, but traditionally the bride's family offered the dowry.

  The packed picnic hamper was also in the car, packed in ice in an insulated box—a gigantic box. How much lunch had I ordered?

  "What are you doing?" Shelby came around to the trunk and put her hand on my butt, giving it a playful squeeze while I was bent over.

  "Checking on lunch. Bringing lunch isn't showing off too much, is it?" I looked at her over my shoulder.

  "Depends on what it is. Does it involve expensive delicacies?"

  "No caviar. There could be a truffle or two on a sandwich. No way to know."

  "Only sandwiches with a chance of truffles? Okay, then we're good." She laughed, but she looked nervous.

  "Called your parents yet?" I asked.

  She grimaced, looking reluctant as hell. "Just about to."

  "No crossing your fingers that they're out," I said.

  It broke the tension. She laughed.

  It was diabolically hot out, especially for delicate Pacific Northwest types like us whose idea of a heat wave is an eighty-degree day. Anything over eighty-five qualifies as beastly and inhumane.

  We got in the car. I cranked the A/C up as I roared out of the parking lot. We had about an hour's drive or more. That should be plenty of warning for her parents. Time to throw all the dirty laundry lying around in a closet. Or get back to the shack from the trail. Who in their right mind would be out hiking right now in this heat, anyway? Especially native Washingtonians. Anyone with half a brain would be taking a nice nap in the air conditioning.

  Shelby's mom picked up the call. I listened to Shelby's end of the conversation as she broke the news that we were about to descend on them. I noted, rather cynically, that Shelby didn't use speakerphone or put the call on Bluetooth. What was she hiding?

  "Mom! Surprise! Dex and I are on the ground in Nevada. We just flew in for a surprise visit. We're heading your way now. We'll be at the RV in about an hour.

  "I know! Well, it was totally spontaneous. No, nothing ominous about it. We had nothing better to do on a lazy Sunday than pop in a jet for a visit. Sometimes you just get cabin fever and have to get out of town. Haven't you and Dad done that a million times?

  "Don't go to any trouble. Don't worry about lunch. We're bringing it. Plenty of it.

  "Sure. Directions to your campsite would be great…"

  Just over an hour later, we arrived. Valley of Fire State Park was interesting rock formation haven. Rocks perched as though they could topple onto the unsuspecting at any moment. Red rock formations, sometimes mixed with cream striations. It was like walking into an alien planet. I had a feeling there must have been a bunch of sci-fi movies filmed here. If not, someone was missing out on a golden opportunity. Although I could still breathe the air here, disproving the alien planet theory. It was heavy with dry heat.

  "The RV looks good," Shelby said.

  I wondered what she had expected. It was an older-model RV, never top of the line even in its prime. In decent condition. If your expectations weren't too high. So if by "good" she meant "clean" then, yeah, I'd give it to her. Given all the red dust around, the RV was surprisingly sparkling.

  "I hope they weren't out washing it in this heat," I said, trying to sound appreciative of any effort they'd made on my behalf.

  "I wouldn't be surprised. And Mom would have spent the last hour cleaning. She'll want to impress you."

  "We shouldn't have called and put them to all the trouble."

  "Oh, it's better that we did—"

  Just then, a middle-aged couple stepped out of the RV. When they spotted Shelby, their faces lit up. As they opened their arms, Shelby ran to them. They embraced in a big family hug while I stood aside, the outsider with a picnic basket in my hand and a bottle of whisky under my arm.

  There were hugs and kisses and happy exclamations among the in-family crowd. "What a surprise!" "What brings you here?" "We're delighted. Of course, you're always welcome." "It's been so long." "You look good. Not as pale and tense as last time…"

  I half expected them to tell her she'd grown.

  Her mom stroked Shelby's hair and hugged her again.

  Finally, all eyes turned to me.

  Shelby grabbed me by the arm and pulled me forward. "Mom. Dad. This is Dex!"

  I felt two pairs of eyes squinting into the sun at me. I was melting in the heat, dripping and pitting out my shirt. Not the way to make an impression. With the heat waves shimmering around me, I was guessing they hoped I was just a mirage that would mercifully disappear if they got too close, only to be replaced by another fiancé in the distance. That was the distinct feeling I got.

  Shelby's mom finally broke the awkward silence. "Don't stand out in the heat. Come inside." She waved us in.

  Polite, but distant.

  Mr. H held the door open for us. When I slid past him, he slapped me on the back. "Good of you to bring our Shel for a visit. We've missed her."

  I nodded. "Good of me" were not the words I would have used.

  A small mutt of a dog, a cross between a Maltese and some other small breed or two—it was hard to determine which—appeared out of nowhere, yipping happily at Shelby.

  Shelby squatted to scoop up the small dog. "Tot! Oh, you adorable girl. You've missed me a tot."

  The three Hudsons laughed at the lame joke.

  Shelby held Tot up to me. "Dex, meet Tot."

  "Hey, you pretty girl." I knew how to talk to dogs. I knew how to look at dogs and assert my dominance. And my affection and love of them. But, as my arms and hands were full, I couldn't do my usual dog-mesmerizing petting and massage.

  Tot barked again. She was happy to see me. Yeah, I was a bit of a dog Dr. Doolittle. I could almost speak their language. The little dog was flirting with me. At least I'd made one friend.

  Tot nearly leaped out of Shelby's arms trying to get to me. I leaned my face toward her. By stretching to every inch of her length, Tot managed to lick my face, giving me a big, slobbery doggie kiss.

  "Oh, my," Shelby's mom said. "Tot likes you. A tot."

  "Likes me?" I laughed. "She's just fallen in love with me." I pulled away from Tot's slobbering all over me. "Is that a surprise?"

  "She usually doesn't like men, especially when she first meets them. She was a shelter rescue. We always assumed her first owner must have been a man who abused her." Shelby's mom sounded impressed but a little leery.

  "Dogs love Dex, Mom," Shelby said. "I've told you he's a dog whisperer."

  "You told me he's a billionaire who founded a pet service company. That's not the same thing."

  "No, I told you how he calmed that old dog who was trying to hump my leg…"

  While they argued, I got a better look around. The RV was decorated in what I could only describe as total Shelby wedding art. Is that a style? They apparently thought so. Shelby's hand lettering was everywhere—on cushions, pillows, and kitchen towels. On the curtains. In frames on the walls.

  How do I love thee?

  Until death do us part…

  Snippets of wedding vows of all sorts. Key lines of love poems. Lyrics from love songs. Everything bridal.

  If a guy was ever to feel marriage pressure, this was the place, pressure-cooker central. Better than a shotgun any day. I had never seen so much wedding art crammed into such a tiny space in all my life. It made Shel's studio look like it was a slacker.

  All right—intimidating. Suck it up, buttercup, I told myself.

  I was still holding the picnic basket and the whisky. Shelby's dad reached out to shake my hand, causing Tot to go crazy with jealousy for my attention. I had to tuck the bottle beneath my arm again as I juggled things and shook his hand, worried about dropping the whisky. "Pleasure to meet you, sir."

  The small, two-person table, which might have seated four in a tight squeeze, was pulled out, taking up most of the living space.

  "Is that for us?" Shelby's mom asked, pointing toward the basket and bottle I held. "Just set it there." She pointed to the table.

  I should have gotten a smaller basket, less lunch. And a larger bottle of whisky. That was rare thousand-dollar Scotch, and I already felt like I could use a stiff belt.

  I wasn't sure the table could even hold the basket's footprint, let alone its weight. Feed them by the pound. The feast wasn't made for an RV-sized table. But I dutifully complied. And, of course, that damn basket filled the entire table, sitting out over the edge. So much so that I had to set the bottle on the bench seat, side-eying it longingly.

  "Sit, everybody. Sit," Shelby's mom said. She shooed us over to shoehorn into the benches on either side of the table.

  I noticed then that her hair was still slightly damp, as if she'd just gotten out of the shower and hadn't had time to fully dry her hair.

  "Your call was good timing," she said. "You caught us just coming back from our hike."

  Shelby set Tot down and slid into the seat next to the window. I put the whisky in my lap and scrunched in beside her, facing the firing squad across from us over the top of the gigantic picnic basket while her mom hovered. Tot hovered at my feet beneath the table, trying to get my attention. She wanted up in my lap. But I was clutching that whisky bottle for dear life.

  Shelby's mom remained on her feet. "You must be thirsty after that drive. Something to drink? I have iced tea in the fridge. I made a fresh batch—"

  "Sounds great, Mom."

  I eyed the whisky in my lap again. "You wouldn't happen to have a Glencairn glass?"

  She looked at me blankly.

  "For the whisky? A rocks glass would do?" Still the blank look. Not drinkers, clearly. "An old-fashioned glass? A lowball?"

  "Any glass will do, Mom. Dex would like to open the whisky he brought."

  Shelby's mom fluttered off to the fridge for a pitcher of tea and who the hell knew what kind of glasses.

  "Well," Shelby's dad said. "We don't have to ask you what you do for a living, Dex. That makes things a little easier. You're pretty high-profile."

  I nodded dumbly. What was up with these people? And how had they produced Shelby?

  Her mom returned with a pitcher of iced tea and four glasses on a tray, looking perplexed. There was no place to set it. She was obviously nervous. Before I could jump out of my seat and move the basket, she found a spot for the tray on a scrap of counter space behind her.

  She handed Shelby a glass of tea and a napkin. She gave me and her husband each an empty glass and a pink cocktail napkin. She stood with a glass of iced tea, leaving me to open the scotch and awkwardly pour a shot, so to speak, for Shelby's dad and me.

  Even with the air conditioning on, it was hot in the RV. My napkin wrapped around the so-called whisky glass. I thought it was just another typical generic napkin with Shelby's hand lettering. Until I saw the embossed gold intertwining names—Mitch and Shelby. And the date of their called-off wedding.

  I glanced at Shelby.

  She noticed the napkins at the same time. She picked hers up and fluttered it at her mom. To my surprise, she laughed. I'd expected her to be upset. "I can't believe you're still using these. I thought you recycled them? You told me you would."