“I’m not hungry.”

When he only stared at her, she said, “Fine. I’ll eat.” She pulled off her pack and dropped into the chair. She smiled at Bernie. “Hiya. I’m Blayne.”

“Bernie Lawman.”

“Nice to meet you.”

The waitress came over to take their orders. After Bo and Bernie put in theirs and while the canine put in hers, Bernie motioned to Bo. They leaned in close, and Bernie asked, “What’s going on?”

“I want to make sure she eats.”

Giggling a little, Bernie said, “Didn’t I always teach you to pay them and get rid of them before breakfast?”

It was a joke Bernie had tossed at Bo before, usually getting him one of the hybrid’s blank stares, but this time the brows lowered and the colors of his eyes flickered from blue to gold the tiniest bit, making Bernie’s giggle a hell of a lot worse.

“Did you just call her a whore?” Bo asked, and Bernie knew the guy was serious. Deadly serious.

“I prefer courtesan,” the canine cut in, distracting both males.

They glanced over and she was buttering up a piece of bread. “It sounds much more romantic, don’t you think?”

“You’re not my courtesan,” Bo argued.

“Well, it’s better than being your whore.” She leaned in and whispered, “Whore implies you can’t get laid without an active credit card or cash. Courtesan implies villas and champagne provided by your vast wealth. You want a courtesan.”

“I do not—why are we arguing about this?”

“I didn’t think we were arguing.” She held the slice of bread up to his mouth.

“What? You’re feeding me now?”

“Isn’t that what courtesans do?”

“You’re trying to irritate me.”

“Not really hard when you’re being such a cranky ass.” She ended up eating the bread herself.

In the end, Bernie didn’t mind the wolfdog’s presence. Not when she had the singular ability to keep Bo Novikov from ripping Bernie’s head off.

When a phone began to ring, both males looked at Blayne, but she only gazed back. Finally, Bo asked, “Do you really think I’d have ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’ as my ringtone?”

“Oh! That’s Jess’s ring.” She pulled that mountain climbing–size backpack onto her lap and proceeded to dig through it, dropping all sorts of items on the table while she searched.

“I just organized that for you,” Bo snarled.

“Don’t start. I know it’s in here somewhere. Ah-ha!” She held up the phone triumphantly. “Told ya.”

“What do you have the side pockets for, if you’re not going to use them?”

She waved him off and answered her phone. “Jess? Hey. What’s up?”

The waitress returned with their food, staring at the junk-covered table. Bo grabbed the wolfdog’s bag and carefully placed all the items inside, giving the waitress the much needed room for all their food.

The wolfdog didn’t even seem to notice, diving into her double order of waffles, ham, and bacon while grunting in answer to whoever was on the phone until she suddenly asked, “I don’t understand, Jess, is there shit backing up into your tub?”

Scrambled eggs dripping with ketchup and hot sauce, hovering near his mouth, Bernie glanced over at Bo, but he was still organizing the wolfdog’s bag, shaking his head, and making that disgusted noise he often did with rookie players.

“So it’s not your tub? Or that’s already fixed? There’s shit backing up in your sink? What?”

Bernie glanced around, and not surprisingly since the room was filled with predators who had above-average hearing, everyone was scowling at them.

“Well, don’t cry, sweetie. I’ll fix it. Just let me finish my breakfast. Jess, I’ve gotta eat. Apparently it’s an order. Okay, sobbing over a backed-up sink seems excessive.” The wolfdog briefly leaned away from the phone. “And the raging isn’t better. So you just calm down right now, missy! Okay.” The wolfdog grinned. “Love you, too!”

She disconnected the call and went back to eating. Bo placed the bag against her chair, sighing heavily. “Is there a reason you have a Boba Fett action figure in your bag? Is there a use for it other than more goddamn clutter?”

“I don’t know which will upset you more,” she replied. “Telling you it’s nothing but clutter or confessing that I often take it out and play ‘I am Boba Fett’ when I don’t think anyone can see me.”

Her phone rang again. This time the tune was Adam and the Ants’ “Dog Eat Dog.”

“Christ, it’s Phil. She must be freaking them out. I’ve gotta go.” She chugged back her orange juice, put the rest of her bacon and ham on her last remaining Belgian waffle, folded the waffle, and stuffed it into the linen napkin. “I’ll bring the napkin back later after practice tonight. See ya!” She grabbed her backpack and charged out of the restaurant, only to return two minutes later, diving into Bo’s lap and throwing her arms around his neck.

“Did I thank you?” she asked.

“Not really.”

“Well, I promise I’ll totally get around to it.”

“No you won’t. You’ll forget and leave me hanging.”

“I may forget to say the words, but I never forget when someone covers my ass.” She hugged him, and to Bernie’s surprise, Bo hugged her back. “I’ll see you later.” She kissed his cheek and took off again, dashing around the bustling wait staff with ease.