Page 217 of Come Back to Me

“Have you tried leaving them alone?”

I blink at him. “We can’t abandon them!”

“I never said to abandon them. I meant play hard to get.”

“That doesn’t work on dogs.”

“Does it work on humans?” Callan sniffs.

I elbow him in the side. “Just because it’s not working out with you and Eloise doesn’t mean it isn’t working.”

“She’s dating Calder!”

“I told you that they have zero chemistry.”

“You didn’t see them on stage at the music festival.”

“They’re actors,” I insert. “They’d be shitty ones if they couldn’t pretend to be in love for a role.”

Callan’s shoulders slump, and though I pat one in commiseration, Cody’s arched brow has me clearing my throat. “How do you play hard to get with a dog?”

“I can tell you what it doesn’t include—the pair of you sitting on the stables floor, hoping they’ll stop biting your ankles while complaining about karma.”

“To be fair, that’s already a better plan than ours, Callan.”

“Any plan that involves no bloodshed, I’m happy with.”

Snorting, I hold out my hand and wait for Cody to grab it, letting him tug me upright. I do the same with Callan.

Together, we leave the stables and watch the dogs who’ve finally stopped snarling at us now that we’ve left them in peace.

“Every day,” Cody informs us. “You’re going to whistle when you step into the stables.”

“Whistle. We can do that, can’t we, Callan?”

Cody’s baby brother nods. “Then what?”

“You’re going to have a treat in your hand and you’re going to leave it in front of the stall door. You’re going to stand there until they come for it. But you don’t enter the stall. You got me?”

Callan sniffs. “We got you, Cody.”

“I don’t have to share my wisdom,” Cody warns, taking a half-step back.

“Callan!” I shriek.

“Fine, fine. What next?”

“Nothing. You wait until they come to the door immediately after you whistle. And then, when they do, you start opening the door. You crouch down to their level, and you wait until they come to you for the treat.”

“That’s it?”

“It’s desensitization, Callan. They’re terrified of humans?—”

“No, they’re not. They don’t bite the ranch hands. They bite us,” I tack on miserably.

“You have to get them to associate you with treats.”

When Cody’s hand settles on the curve of my ass, I tuck my chin into my chest and try not to be obvious about stepping closer to him.

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