We passed a small boutique with strings of fairy lights in the window. Jaime’s gaze lingered on the display. There were handmade collars, bandanas, embroidered harness leashes.
He didn’t comment, but his attention was soft in a way I hadn’t seen before.
“You thinking of getting something for Pampi?” I asked.
He huffed a low laugh. “She’d murder me in my sleep if I tried to make her wear anything with ruffles.”
I snorted. “So… solid colors only?”
“Dignified patterns,” he corrected.
“Mmh. So no pineapples.”
“Chris.” His tone was warning but warm.
I grinned. We crossed the street toward the bar. It was a small, rustic place with wooden siding and neon beer signs glowing through the windows.
The muffled thrum of conversation and clinking glasses seeped out onto the sidewalk.
“You sure this place is safe?” Jaime asked.
“For humans, wolves, and dogs,” I said. “Even saw a raccoon shifter here once.”
Jaime halted. “A raccoon shifter?”
“Yeah. He ate the entire bowl of pretzels.”
“That… tracks.”
His mouth twitched. Not fully a smile, but damn close. My wolf swished its metaphorical tail.
Inside, the place was busy but not packed. Warm lighting. Scent of grilled beef and toasted buns. Wooden booths with scuffed edges.
A row of bar stools lining a counter where the bartender polished glasses with practiced ease. I even noticed a few handlers from the show and some tourists, mixed in with the usual locals.
This place was perfect for two undercover shifters pretending to be husbands while trying not to stare at each other too long.
We snagged a small corner booth, sliding into opposite sides. Our knees brushed under the table, sending warmth straight up my spine. I didn’t move. Neither did he.
“Beer?” I offered.
“Please.”
I flagged a server. We ordered two drafts and a pair of burgers and fries because I was starving. Jaime even nodded when I asked if he wanted to share dessert.
The beers arrived quickly. Jaime wrapped his fingers around his glass, the amber liquid glowing under the hanging light.
He lifted it slightly. “To tomorrow,” he said.
My head tilted. “Tomorrow?”
“Our first run.” His gaze held mine. “Our first real test.”
Right. Our first test, but not the one he meant. My heart beat louder than the background music.
“To tomorrow,” I echoed.
We drank, and for the first time since this assignment began, since Cooper had handed us this mess in his office, I felt something settle. It was like finding the right rhythm, like shifting into the right position. It wasn’t comfortable or easy, but it felt right.
