Page 24 of Complete Me

Hmm. A dog that requires a spa day. That might not be so bad. “And what kind is that one?” I point at an even smaller dog with a black curly coat and a long pointy nose.

“Poodle. Or a poodle mix. They’re wicked smart dogs. Very affectionate, but they can also be incredibly territorial. It just depends on the dog and how they were raised.”

“It sounds like people.”

Kaino laughs. “It’s exactly like people.” They gesture to the Shih Tzu. “Look, here she comes.”

The cream-colored ball of fluff trots over and stands up on her hind legs, front paws resting on my knee. She’s looking right at me expectantly. “What do I do?”

Kaino pats my lap. “C’mon sweet girl. Come up.”

I freeze, very aware that not only is Kaino touching me, they’re touching my thigh, and they don’t seem aware of it. I, on the other hand, am very, very aware. Before I can get too distracted, I have a lap full of fluff. She walks around in a circle, then plops down, leaning her body against my chest as she looks around the room. Tentatively, I stroke her back. “Oh. Hello.”

Brad comes over and scratches behind her ears. “This is Pixie. She’s six. Her owner passed away, and there weren’t any relatives to take her, so she ended up here. She’s house broken, knows about a dozen commands, is even-tempered, and loves to be petted.”

I look up at him in wonder. “She’s so soft.” I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this level of silkiness. Pixie looks up at me with the gentlest dark brown eyes and licks my hand, tail wagging.

“She likes you.” Kaino leans in close, and Pixie licks their face. They jerk back, laughing. “Ugh. She licked the inside of my nose.” They mock-glare at her. “Thanks, Pixie.” They wipe away the slobber, but they’re smiling, and it’s breathtaking.

“She likes you, too.” Our eyes meet, gazes holding just a moment too long. They glance at my lips and up to my eyes, and the butterflies in my stomach swoop dangerously.

Kaino grins. “I’m very likable.”

I find myself nodding. “You really are.”

10

Bjorn

“I’m surprised you didn’t come home with another dog.” Gunnar hops out of my Range Rover and jogs to catch up as I head for the main doors to the restaurant.

“Nah. Pita wouldn’t appreciate another doggie sibling. What I’m really surprised at is Xander not going home with a new pet. He was seriously adorable with both the dogs and the cats. So sweet and very affectionate.”

Gunnar gives me a side-eye. “Toward the animals?”

“Obviously.” I ignore the implied question. Xander has been quite affectionate toward me, too. But he’s also been affectionate toward Kaino, and I’m not sure if that’s how Xander is now with friends, or if he’s interested in both of us, or just one of us, or… I give up thinking about it. I’ve done way too much of that over the past few weeks, and I still don’t have any answers. “So, what starts with ‘W’ and ends with ‘T’?”

“No.” Gunnar shakes his head and walks faster.

Now it’s my turn to jog after him. “C’mon. What starts with ‘W’ and ends with ‘T’?”

With the most put-upon sigh ever, Gunnar stops and looks up at the sky. “What?”

“Exactly.” I bump his shoulder and open the door for him.

He glares at me as he walks into the restaurant. “You suck.”

“But you love me anyway.” Chuckling, I follow him into the lobby and smile at the three people already waiting. “Hi.” I wave at them. “You guys here for the cooking class, too?”

A twenty-something blonde woman with big blue eyes and a blindingly white grin nods. “Yep! This is going to be so much fun!” She has cheerleader vibes, and based on how unconvinced her two male companions seem, she must be the one who wanted to sign up for this class.

One of the guys looks to be in his early twenties, too. Or it could just be his baby face. He’s cute in a bookish way. It’s how I imagine Xander might have looked at that age. All tall and gangly, not yet grown into his arms and legs. The other guy’s age is harder to pin down, but I’m guessing late twenties. He’s built like me, broad across the chest and shoulders, with a tapered waist, giving off strong jock vibes that seem to fluster bookish boy. At least that’s my take because every time jock smiles at bookish, his cheeks get all pink, and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. It’s adorable. “Sure. I have no clue how to cook, but this’ll definitely be fun.” He peeks at jock and swallows hard. “Just the three of us.”

“Cooking is almost always fun.” A thick French accent precedes a woman in chef’s whites, who steps into the lobby from the dining room. “Even when you aren’t quite sure what you’re doing.” She’s petite and looks to be in her late forties, with dark brown hair laced with strands of silver. It’s pulled back into a low bun, and her dark brown eyes sparkle behind black-rimmed glasses. “But when you leave here, you most certainly will know more than you do right now about French cooking. Now.” She waves us forward. “I am Chef Bouchard. You may call me Chef or Chef Bouchard, whichever you prefer. I will lead you into the kitchen, and everyone will put on hair nets.” She assesses me and Gunnar. “You will need the face nets to cover your beards. After that, everyone will scrub their hands thoroughly at the sink and find a worktable. Then the fun begins.”

We all follow her like little ducklings, Gunnar and me bringing up the rear. I nudge him gently. “Thanks for coming with me. I could have done this by myself, but it’ll be more fun with you.”

The shock on Gunnar’s face and the accompanying soft smile are so far from the prickly response I still half expect, and I feel both a rush of affection for him and annoyance at myself for assuming the worst. I need to stop that. Gunnar’s changed, in no small part due to all the work he’s done in therapy. But Jocelin’s been a great influence, too. Gunnar grabs my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “Thanks. That means a lot. And no way was I passing up an opportunity to learn how to cook something French. Maybe I’ll actually impress my boyfriend’s parents next time they visit. Which, with any luck, won’t be for a very long time.”

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