Chapter 19

"Pretend you have manners, okay? We're trying to impress these ladies."

Oscar plopped his butt down on Misty's front stoop and, tongue lolling, tipped his head back to look at Denver, as if to say, See, I got this. One ear flopped over his eye, making him look a lot more like trouble than a canine gentleman. With a little prayer that the mutt remembered his training, Denver held out the gift bag. Oscar clamped the handle between his teeth and turned back to the door, his baseball bat of a tail wagging so hard, it swept the front stoop.

Man, he hoped this wasn't a mistake. He'd wanted to make a good impression. His grandmama had hailed from Georgia, and, during the formative years she'd helped his father raise him, she'd impressed upon Denver proper company etiquette. It wasn't something he'd been called on much to use in his line of work, certainly wasn't something he or Dad had worried about after her passing. But Denver had heard her voice in his head, telling him he'd best not sh