Page 101 of Knot Your Baby

The beach is nearly empty this early, just a few dedicated surfers in the distance and one older couple walking their matching Yorkshire terriers.

Rosie races ahead, her golden body bright against the darker beach, pausing occasionally to make sure we’re still following before she rolls over in the sand, wagging her tail in delight.

“She’s ridiculous,” Miller says with affection, watching the dog’s antics.

“Says the man who bought her a monogrammed life vest,” I counter.

“It was on sale.”

“It was custom made.”

Freya laughs between us, the sound carried away by the salt breeze. Stone is strapped to her chest in the carrier Miller insisted was ergonomically superior to all others when he came home with it yesterday.

Our pack baby’s tiny face is peaceful as he sleeps despite the wind and Rosie’s occasional eager barking.

“You two bicker like an old married couple,” she observes.

“Miller and Thorne argue more than me,” I explain, bending to pick up Rosie’s ball.

“Are you really quitting the fire service?” Freya asks me.

I stop and turn to her. “It’s time. I saw how Thorne was with you in the hospital. I get it now. The fear he had for you was no doubt the same for me.”

“It was,” Miller adds.

“So, I’m going into the office later to see how I feel about that.” I toss the ball for Rosie, who takes off after it.

We walk in comfortable silence for a while, adjusting our pace to Freya’s slower one. She’s still recovering from everything, though she rarely complains.

Miller watches her with the same assessing look he gives all his patients, and I’m sure he is cataloging any minute change in her color, her energy levels, her ease of movement.

“Stop doctoring me,” she says without looking at him. “I’m fine.”

“I said nothing,” he protests. “But let me take Stone.”

“You were having doctor thoughts.”

I laugh at Miller’s offended expression. “She’s got you there.”

“How do you know that? We’re not bonded yet,” Miller says. Now surprise has taken over the offended look.

“I feel it.” Her voice is subdued, like she is worried about what she is saying.

“Me too.” He wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulls her to him and kisses her temple. “And now you’ve brought up the word everyone skirts around. How do you feel about bonding?”

The word “bonding” dangles in the air between us.

Her cheeks flush pink, and she shifts Stone in his carrier. “Well, I was thinking more about bondage first, actually.”

Miller chokes on nothing, and I nearly trip over my own feet.

“Excuse me?” Miller manages.

“You know,” she continues, eyes sparkling with mischief, “I think it’s important to test our compatibility in all areas before we make any permanent decisions. Like, what if you’re both terrible at tying knots? That’s a deal-breaker.”

I burst out laughing. “Are we talking about sailing or bedroom skills?”

“Both? I mean, what if we’re on a yacht and you need to secure me to the mast?” She wiggles her eyebrows dramatically. “For safety reasons, of course.”

---