“I’m not talking about them. We told you before, Smith, we wouldn’t play if her”—he pointed at Sissy—“or her”—he pointed at Ronnie—“were playing.” Mitch looked at her. “Uh…Sissy?” Sissy rounded on the coach. “I can’t believe you are still holding that against us. It’s been years!” “He was in traction for three months. A shifter! In traction!” “He was in my way!”

“Lessons? Oh no. I didn’t need lessons.” He glanced up and found her shaking her head in disgust at her own idiocy. “You see, Sissy said I wouldn’t need lessons. ‘You’re a shifter,’ she said. ‘We can do anything,’ she said.”

“Mitch grabbed hold of the car keys and held them over his head so Sissy couldn’t get them. She, in turn, grabbed his nuts and twisted until he gave her the damn keys.”

“Mitch, Mitch, Mitch. If I stay, you’ll only fall madly in love with me like so many men before you.” “It’s you we have to worry about,” he sighed out. “You’ve already been trapped in my erotic web of lust. Might as well give it up to the daddy of all cats.” Grinning, Sissy stretched out next to Mitch, her arm thrown over his waist. “You keep on dreamin’ that dream, kitty.” “I will. I own ponies in that dream, too.”

“You took my Lotus!” Sissy choked on her champagne, and Ronnie started looking for the exits or law enforcement with arrest warrants. Lord, what is the statute of limitations again?”

“Not that he had anything to worry about. Personally, Sissy would like to avoid having acid thrown in her face. She was wacky that way.”