A long hot tongue and dog breath wake me from a sound sleep. Samson must have stayed the night with Raul and now he's back. The damned dog has everyone in his life wrapped around his paws. I push him back so I can untangle myself from the covers and get up. Sam gives a short whine when he looks at his mistress buried beneath the covers; I call him so he doesn't wake her. Raul is sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading my newspaper when I walk out in a bathrobe.
"Make yourself at home why don't you," I grumble. "Hand over the business section," I add with my hand out. I'm fully aware most people no longer read an actual newspaper but I love it. At least when it's neat and in its proper order.
Raul knows my bark is worse than my bite in the morning. "I haven't been kicked
