Blayne pressed her hands to her head. “I have so much work.”

“How ya figure?”

“What? You think some lioness or She-wolf will put up with your hot fox wandering in and out of your house, taking cash out of your wallet? They won’t be okay with that.”

He studied Blayne a moment before asking, “What about you? Would you be okay with it?”

“Well . . . my best friend can turn her head a hundred and eighty degrees when the mood strikes her, her entire family has Irish mob ties, and my father used to run with a motorcycle club masquerading as a Pack—so I’d have to say I don’t know if I’d have room to judge. But I’m me. I’m unique.”

Yeah. Blayne was definitely that.

“But we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about getting you a nice girl.”

“Then we’re ruling out She-lions and wolves. I mean . . . if we’re going for nice girls.”

Her grin huge, she leaned across the table and punched him lightly in the ribs. “Look at you with the joking.”

Feeling pretty good about making her laugh, Bo was annoyed to see MacRyrie lumber up to their table.

“Normally I wouldn’t say anything so you could suffer,” the grizzly stated with no preamble, “but Gwen said Blayne would be mad at me if I didn’t tell you. And I like Blayne.”

“Tell me what?”

“Your foxes are getting arrested.”

Bo winced and rubbed his forehead. “Dammit.”

“What did they do?” Blayne asked.

“It’s probably an old warrant,” Bo explained, dropping his hand to the table. When Blayne did nothing but watch him with a sad expression on her face, Bo guessed, “We’re back at the personality makeover again, aren’t we?”

“I’m merely suggesting that with a little help from me you might actually get friends you can go out with that won’t get arrested for old warrants.” She held her hands up. “Merely a suggestion.”

Not in the mood to argue this point, Bo eased out of the booth and stood. The grizzly was just shy of seven feet, so they locked gazes again.

“Friends being arrested,” Blayne reminded him. “Boar-on-boar violence or helping your friends. Your choice.”

Dammit. She was right. Bo moved his gaze over to Blayne. “Tomorrow. Seven a.m. Do not be early or late. Just be on time.”

“Will do.”

Unsure of how he would look back on this evening, Bo headed off in the hope of preventing his friends from going to jail for the night.

Blayne shook her head. “That man.”

“What’s going on with you two?” Lock asked and Blayne couldn’t help but notice he appeared concerned. So sweet!

“I’m trying to help himbecome a better person. Better person, means a happier person.”

“Maybe you should have given yourself an easier challenge first. Like moving the Empire State Building to Jersey with your teeth. Or closing off an active volcano with a pebble and a bottle of water.”

“I could be wrong, Lock MacRyrie, but I’m sensing sarcasm.”

Bo dragged the two foxes out of the club by the backs of their necks, after he made them return every wallet, watch, purse, and piece of jewelry they’d “grabbed,” as they liked to call it. Since foxes always believed that “stealing” had such an ugly connotation.

Thankfully, the two undercover cops who’d busted them were shifters and let the pair off with a warning as long as they returned everything.

“I give you people lists,” Bo snarled, throwing them into the backseat of his truck, “and you completely ignore them!”

He slammed the door closed and stormed around to the other side of the truck. He got in and turned the motor over.

“We needed the cash,” Sami explained. “We’re heading to Thailand tomorrow.”

“You know I would have paid for your trip.”

“We don’t want you to think we’re living off you.”

“You are living off me.”

“Yeah . . . but we don’t want you to think it.”

Bo glared at the couple over his shoulder, muttering, “Maybe she’s right.”

“Maybe who’s right? About what?”

“Blayne. She seems to think I need a personality makeover.”

“What’s wrong with your personality?”

“I apparently only attract criminals.”

“Oh.”

Neither fox argued that point, allowing Bo to face straight ahead and ask out loud, “I don’t know what she’s doing. She’s insisting she wants to help me.”

“Because she likes you,” Sami explained, “she’s compartmentalizing you. Putting you in a safe zone.”

“I don’t want to be in a safe zone.”

“Then keep doing what you’ve been doing.”

“How does that help me?”

“First off, don’t look for logic. You’ve picked the most illogical hybrid on the planet. Second, she’s one of those chicks who has to be ‘friends’”—she raised her hands and made air quotes—“with a guy before he can hope to get close, but by then he’s already moved on to a girl who doesn’t need that and he’s already thinking about the wolfdog like a sister. Trust me, she’s got thousands of buddies and brothers throughout the tri-state area. If you want more than that, you’ll have to work for it.”