POV: Han Galloway
I use the force of command that makes me pack master and call them in.
Coyote answers first. His silver-gray wolf slides out of the brush like smoke, head low, golden eyes catching the moonlight. He trots toward Millie, and the closer he gets, the more his walk turns into a full-body wiggle. She bursts out laughing and drops straight onto her backside in the wet grass.
"I almost hit you with my car," she tells him, wrinkling her nose as he drags his tongue up the side of her face. "You're a bad, bad dog."
Coyote flops onto his back, all four paws in the air, tail wagging like an oversized puppy while she scratches his belly and coos at him in baby talk. I close my eyes and take a slow breath through my nose. This isn't how I pictured this going. I wanted something con
