Page 76 of Filthy and the Beast

Frustration and a little bit of anger prickle up the back of my neck. It’s way too close to showtime for my cohost to disappear, but Enzo is stepping outside of his comfort zone, so I keep my emotions in check. “My friends will be here in less than an hour, and you’re leaving?”

He grabs the whiskey bottle from the counter and shakes it at me. “I’m almost out!” He grinds his jaw. Right when I’m about to launch into an actual argument, he clarifies. “I’ll be right back.”

I let out a slow breath, trying to calm myself.

Enzo’s anxiety about having people in his house has obviously been spiking. He’s been stomping around and grunting all day.

I’m staying patient. His moods never bring me down. Grumpiness is a feature of Enzo’s personality, and he’s never mean or spiteful.

Still, though. “How much whiskey do you need to drink to host a game night?”

He pushes a hand through his hair. “It’s not all for me. I can’t drink it if I don’t have enough to offer other people.” Like I'm the one being impossible, he shakes his head. “I need to offer the guys a drink. I’ll be back in plenty of time, don’t worry!” he calls over his shoulder, heading for the back door.

“Okay!” I yell after him. When I hear the door shut, I puff out a breath.

Despite my ongoing work exhaustion, I’m terribly excited about bringing game night to Enzo’s place. It’s like uniting my two worlds, and I can’t wait for Enzo and all my friends to meet. But his cresting grumpiness does look different from this perspective.

He would never yell at my friends or something ridiculous like that. But how is his gruffness going to land when it’s more than the two of us alone with the dogs?

Before I can get lost in my thoughts, Nico texts to let me know he’s arrived early as planned to help me with the last of the setup. Relieved, I set a poker visor on my head and hurry to the door to let him in. He greets the dogs as we make our way back into the mansion.

Taking the scene in, Nico pauses in the dining room and crosses his arms. I quickly jump on a chair and hang the banner, arranging it between the balloons I pinned up earlier. “Looks good, right?”

“Honestly, Damian, I think you’ve achieved a new personal best.”

In addition to the many decorations, I’ve got the extension in the big wood table and the games neatly arranged and ready to go. Petunia happily sports her poker visor, which matches mine. Mirabelle licks her visor between her paws, and Goldie sits on hers.

Jumping down from the chair, I gesture to the beers and cupcakes, half decorated with dog faces and half with poker cards. “There’s more snacks in the kitchen. Dog chow. Chips. Super Bowl Sunday nonsense, you know?” With a pleased spin, I direct his attention to my favorite touch, a stuffed blue dog with tiny playing cards affixed to his front paws, sitting on a stool at the head of the massive table. “I knew Enzo’s dogs wouldn’t truly participate, so I recruited some help. You see, the theme is dogs playing poker.”

“I gathered.” Grinning, Nico points behind me, where I’ve hung the giant framed painting of dogs playing poker.

“It was in Enzo’s attic. He said I could have it.” I shrug. “The idea just came together after that. Why shouldn’t game night include a little poker? It will be an easy first game for Enzo, and I know Reggie and Fox will love it, too. And look!” I point up at a decent approximation of the classic red light fixture from the iconic painting,Dogs Playing Poker.

“Authenticity.” Nico nods, impressed.

I gesture to the table. “Although we’ll be focusing our time on Wingspan and Terraforming Mars, of course. The poker thing is largely thematic.”

Nico grins. “Naturally. Where is Enzo, by the way?”

“Getting more whiskey.” I realize I’m grimacing and fix my face. “He noticed he didn’t have enough to share and rushed off in a huff.”

Nico arches an eyebrow. “Nervous to host?”

“Something like that.”

“Is everything okay?”

I adjust my poker visor. “I like how Enzo is. I think it’s cute when he barks, you know?”

Nico smiles. “I do know.”

I gesture to my face. “And I can tell the difference between his scowl that meansmy back hurtsand the scowl that meansyou’re being cute but I’m shy about thinking you’re cute so I’m not smiling too muchand the scowl that meansdon’t touch that. But what if everyone else just thinks he’s scowling? And then Enzo gets grumpier because everyone is on edge? And then no one has fun?”

“Huh.” Nico studies me. “Perhaps you’re the one nervous?”

As I pull the visor down over my face, it dawns on me how eager I am for everyone to like each other as much as I like them. “Perhaps.”

“We’re all going to have fun,” Nico assures me. “And you’ve given us plenty of preparation regarding what to expect from Enzo. I’m sure you’ve given him a rundown on our quirks, too.”

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