Page 17 of Stuck with my Brother's Firefighter Besties

“Biscuit!” I gasped, trying to sound stern, but it was impossible to keep a straight face as he pranced around like he’d just stolen a priceless treasure.

The bread hung comically from his mouth, way too big for him to carry properly, but that didn’t stop him from proudly showing off his prize.

Colt leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and lips twitching with amusement. “Well, I guess we know who the real alpha is in this house.”

Ryan was laughing so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. “The little dude’s got no fear! He went straight for your plate, Colt. Didn’t even hesitate.”

“Hey,” Colt protested, though he was grinning now. “That’s my bread. I think I’m obligated to rescue it.”

“Good luck,” Jaxon drawled from his seat, his deep voice laced with dry humor. “He looks pretty attached to it.”

“Please,” Colt scoffed, pushing back his chair and standing up. “I could take him in a tug of war any day.”

Dad chuckled, shaking his head as he watched Biscuit’s victorious retreat toward the corner of the room. “Careful, Colt. Biscuit’s got a low center of gravity. You might not stand a chance.”

“True.” Nate smirked, pointing his fork at Colt. “And Biscuit’s got that killer instinct. I’ve seen him go after a tennis ball like it owes him money.”

“Very funny,” Colt said, already crouching down and creeping toward Biscuit like he was on some kind of covert mission. “I’ve wrestled with fire hoses, man. This is nothing.”

Biscuit froze when Colt got too close, his little legs stiffening as he clamped down harder on the bread.

The room went quiet, everyone watching like it was the final round of a championship match.

“Don’t do it, Biscuit!” Ryan called out, egging the dog on. “Don’t let him win!”

Biscuit growled—a sound that was more adorable than threatening—and Colt laughed, reaching for the bread. “All right, buddy. Time to?—”

Before he could finish, Biscuit bolted.

Colt lunged after him, but the corgi was faster than he looked, darting under the table and out of reach.

The room exploded into laughter again, Ryan doubling over as tears streamed down his face. “Oh my god. He juked you! He straight up juked you, Colt!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Colt muttered, crawling on his hands and knees to peek under the table. “Laugh it up. This isn’t over.”

I couldn’t stop giggling as I watched Biscuit zigzag around the room like a tiny, fluffy bandit, the bread still clutched firmly in his mouth.

Jaxon, of course, looked entirely unimpressed, though I caught the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Just let him have it, Colt,” Jaxon said, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve already lost. The bread is his now.”

“Never,” Colt declared dramatically, crawling after Biscuit with all the determination of a man on a mission.

Finally, I took pity on both of them.

“Biscuit, come here!” I called, my voice light but firm.

To my surprise—and relief—Biscuit actually listened, trotting over to me with the bread still in his mouth.

I crouched down, gently prying it from his jaws. “That’s not for you, troublemaker.”

Colt stood up, brushing off his knees and looking mildly defeated. “Guess he likes you more than me. That’s just embarrassing.”

Ryan grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Not as embarrassing as getting outsmarted by a dog.”

Colt flopped back into his chair with exaggerated defeat, a hand to his chest as if Biscuit had personally wounded his pride. “You see this, Lila? I lay my heart on the line, and your dog betrays me.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I handed the slobbery bread to Dad, who discreetly placed it in the trash.

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