“What if I bought you a new watch?”

“Oh, my God!” she blurted out. “Are we back here again?”

“It irritates me.” And his calmness was pissing her off more than she could say.

“This watch goes perfectly with this outfit,” she argued.

“But you wore it during training and with your cargo pants to work.”

“Let the watch go!” she bellowed, startling the full-human waitress who wore the mark of some wolf on the bare shoulder peeking out from under a sleeveless club T-shirt. Blayne cleared her throat. “Diet Coke please.”

The waitress nodded, focused on Novikov. “Bottle water,” he said, handing her his half-full beer. “Thank you.”

After the waitress walked away, Novikov said, “You know, Blayne, I’m pretty happy with the way my life is right now.”

“You can’t possibly be happy.”

“Why? Because I’m not like you?”

Blayne snorted. “You couldn’t handle being me.” She swirled her forefingers around her head and admitted, “All that goes on inside this head at any given time . . . would destroy you.”

She didn’t know who was startled more when Novikov suddenly laughed, but it was something that she would remember for a very long time because it was something that everyone had said he never did. You know, unless he was laughing at you.

The laugh took him by surprise. It wasn’t that he didn’t find things funny, but he usually found things funny later. After he thought about it for a few hours and analyzed what funny was in context.

But in whatever context there was, even Bo knew Blayne was funny. Even when she was angry or annoyed, she knew how to keep her sense of humor. He admired that because he knew few people who had that skill.

Yet his problem with Blayne was that she wanted to “fix him.” Personally, he didn’t think he needed fixing, but she seemed real determined about it.

The waitress placed their drinks down. Blayne downed half of her Diet Coke before Bo had even picked up his tiny bottle of Italian water that he was sure would cost twenty bucks.

“So this is what I’m thinking,” she said when she slammed the bottle down. “Personality makeover.”

“No.”

“You’re being unreasonable.”

“I think you’re being ridiculous. That makes us even, doesn’t it?”

“I say a personality makeover because externally, you’re not half bad.”

Gee, thanks.

“I mean, you’re cute, especially with those freaky blue eyes.”

“Freaky?”

“The white hair alone would kill the look but the brown mane under it totally pulls it together. Although you may want to think about upgrading your conditioner.” She suddenly roseup on her knees and reached across the table, grabbing his hair and studying the ends. “I don’t think these are split ends, but they are a bit frizzy. A good conditioner will help you with that.”

“Blayne—”

She sat back. “And your wardrobe isn’t bad at all. Which just leaves your personality. And if you let me, I can help you fix that.”

“It doesn’t need to be fixed. This is who I am; I’ve accepted that. Maybe you should.”

“I don’t have a problem with you.”

“Then why—”

“Explain the foxes to me,” she said, looking very professorial all of a sudden.

“Why?”

“Who are they? Where did they come from? She said she has a mate; does he mind her lounging on you?” She leaned in close again. “Or does he get to lounge, too? Do you guys all sleep in the same bed?” She practically jumped out of the booth. “Are you bi? Oh, my God! That would be so cool!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” He held up his hands to ward off her insane eagerness. “It’s not like that! It’s never been like that.”

She dropped back into her seat. “Oh.”

“Sorry you’re so disappointed.”

“No, no. Not disappointed . . . per se.”

And Bo heard himself laugh again, Blayne joining him.

“I’m just trying to understand the dynamic. Were they assigned to you? Or did you choose them like you would a puppy from the pound?”

“I guess they kind of chose me. The first day of school when I moved to Ursus County, they sort of attached themselves to me. Followed me back to my uncle’s house. I thought he’d make them leave, but instead he fed them and told me to ‘get used to it.’ I guess it makes sense. In the wild, full foxes attach themselves to polars and eat what’s left over from the polars’ kills, which is very logical because polars mostly only eat blubber—”

“Ew.”

“—leaving the meat and bone for everyone else.”

Her face scrunched up. “Lovely.”

“You asked.”

“So basically they’re like parasites.”

“I think Sami and Sander prefer ‘scavengers.’ ”

“But they do live off you, right? Eating your food? Stealing your money?”

“They’ve never stolen from me. Sami will just walk in and say, ‘I’m taking money out of your wallet’ and I say, ‘Okay.’”

“Nice.”

“But they always have some scam going, and haven’t gotten money from me in a while. I just make sure I have cash for bail or, ya know, mob types. When they get in over their heads.”