Chapter 6
CHRIS
I’d never been to a dog show. It was an endless churn of movement, noise, and the strangely mesmerizing rhythm of competition.
Jaime and I spent hours in the designated handlers’ section, perched at the edge of the temporary bleachers in the ballroom.
From morning until the final whistle, we watched heats, trial runs, obedience demonstrations, freestyle routines, and agility exhibitions.
It should’ve been monotonous, but it wasn’t. Not with Jaime beside me, arms folded, posture coiled in its usual cool focus, eyes sharp enough to slice through every tiny detail.
Sometimes we leaned forward at the same moment. Sometimes we murmured the same observation under our breath. Sometimes our shoulders brushed when the handlers’ lane got cramped.
Every time it happened, my heartbeat tripped over itself like a puppy learning its own paws.
We weren’t competing today. Our event, Pampi’s division, was scheduled for tomorrow. So this was our day to observe, analyze, and pretend we were nothing more than two handlers soaking in the atmosphere.
And maybe check out if there was anything else that was suspicious, but no one needed to know that part.
So far, nothing seemed off. No tampered hurdles and no suspicious figures lurking around the judges’ tables. There was also no sudden illnesses or equipment failures.
Compared to yesterday’s subtle sabotage attempt, today felt almost… tame. Maybe whoever had messed with the course earlier decided to keep their head down.
That was a good thing, and disappointing in a way that made my adrenaline feel misplaced.
When the last dog crossed the finish platform and the final handlers were ushered out for cool-down, I exhaled a long breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
The ballroom lights softened as the staff began shutting down sections for the night.
“Well,” I muttered, stretching my arms overhead, “that was something.”
Jaime didn’t look away from the emptying course.
“Hmm… all clean today. No tampering,” he said under his breath.
“You sound annoyed,” I teased lightly. “Almost like you wanted something to happen.”
He shot me a flat look. “I wanted answers.”
Fair. We stayed seated for another minute, letting the crowd thin. My mind drifted back to the morning. To the unexpected high point of the day. He was going to let me run with Pampi in the heats.
Even better, we ran together as wolves. That alone had my wolf preening like it had won a medal. I glanced sideways at him, unable to stop the smile tugging at my lips.
“What?” Jaime asked, brow lifting.
“Nothing.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Just thinking about how you let me run with Pampi earlier during practice.”
His expression softened by a hair. It was barely there, but visible enough that my chest warmed.
“She liked you, and she responded well,” Jaime admitted.
“Yeah she did,” I said, puffing out my chest.
Pampi wasn’t just loyal, she was exclusive. Jaime was her sun and moon, the only orbit she acknowledged. The fact that she tolerated, much less enjoyed, my handling meant something.
Handlers started moving toward the exits, and lights inside the ballroom dimmed further. I stood, stretching my legs.
“Dinner?” I blurted before I could think better of it. “Or a beer? Something to unwind.”
Jaime’s posture went stiff, the same way he reacted to suspicious noises and unknown scents. I lifted my hands quickly.
“Uh, it’s not what you think. Just two colleagues grabbing food.”
God. I wished I could stuff the words back into my mouth and sew it shut. My wolf winced at the awkwardness rolling off me like smoke.
Jaime blinked once, slow and assessing. I braced for the shutdown.
“Okay,” he said simply.
I stared.
“Okay?” I had to repeat.
He shrugged one shoulder. “Dinner is fine.”
My brain lagged three steps behind before deciding to function again. “Right. Great. Cool.”
We collected our things and headed back toward our hotel room. The elevator ride was quiet but not uncomfortable.
Jaime didn’t edge away from me and he didn’t coolly angle his body in the opposite direction. Pampi sat in his arm, pressed happily against his chest, her fluffy ears perked.
When we entered the room, Jaime set Pampi down gently, removed her show collar, and filled her portable bowl with fresh water. She drank eagerly, tail swishing like a tiny metronome.
“She did good today,” I said, toeing off my shoes.
“She hasn’t competed yet,” Jaime murmured, kneeling to scratch her chin.
“Still. She handled the noise. The crowd. The other dogs. That’s impressive for a small girl like her,” I pointed out.
He looked up slightly, just enough for our eyes to catch, and something warm flickered across his face. “She’s tougher than she looks.”
“I could say the same about her handler,” I said before my brain caught up.
Jaime froze for half a beat. Then stood, and then cleared his throat.
“Dinner,” he said, redirecting.
“Right,” I echoed quickly, heat creeping up my neck.
We each took turns freshening up, with me taking a quick shower first and change of shirt. Jaime showered after. He emerged wearing a fitted dark henley and jeans, hair still damp at the tips.
Unfair. Absolutely unfair how amazing he looked.
“So,” I asked, sliding my wallet into my pocket, “what’re you in the mood for? Food-wise.”
“Anything not from the hotel,” he replied immediately. “I’ve had enough recycled ballroom air and overpriced buffet chicken for one day.”
“I know a burger joint a couple blocks down,” I said. “Good fries. Decent beer. And the walk would do us good.”
“A walk sounds nice,” he said, surprising me again. “I wouldn’t mind some fresh air.”
“Then it’s a plan,” I said.
After reassuring Pampi we would be back soon, we left the hotel through the side entrance, stepping into the early night. Cool air brushed against my skin, a relief after the artificial chill of the ballroom.
It carried the faint scents of the town. Fried food from nearby diners, pine from the surrounding woods, distant car exhaust, the murmur of traffic.
Jaime inhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing. “Better.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Feels real out here.”
We started down the sidewalk, our footsteps syncing without effort. At some point, our arms brushed again. It was light and accidental, but my wolf perked up like someone had handed it a treat.
“Long day,” I said after a moment.
“Yes,” Jaime agreed. “But productive.”
“Everything ran smooth today.”
“But that doesn’t mean tomorrow will be clean.”
“True,” I answered.
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.
Jaime set his glass down, watching me with an unreadable expression.
“What?” I asked.
“You surprised me today,” he said.
“How?” I asked.
“You did well with Pampi. Better than well.”
Heat flooded my face. “She made it easy.”
“She doesn’t make anything easy,” he corrected softly.
The air between us tightened. Not tense. Tuned.
“Look,” I said, voice low. “I know this is… strange. Us pretending to be married. Working together. Being in each other’s space all the time.”
Jaime nodded once.
“I’m trying,” I said. “To make this work.”
His fingers tapped once along the side of his glass. Not restless, more like he was sending a quiet ripple through still water. He was thinking, choosing his words with that same careful precision he used when handling Pampi.
“I know,” he said finally. “And I am too.”