Page 146 of Facade

“Problem solved. One animal’s been fed.” I smiled triumphantly, ignoring the tick in his jaw as I went back to my task.

“Can I at least help?”

“Fine. But if you get in my way, a carrot in the eye will be the least of your problems.”

He dropped his hand to grab a pan, his eye a nasty, bright pink. But the idiot was grinning ear to ear. I shoved a bowl of onions toward him to chop. I’d bet if he were in his other form, that dumb tail of his would be wagging.

With my hands on my hips, I stared at what we’d prepped so far.

Still no sign of the cook, though. Poor, stingy bastard probably ate two muffins.

“We’ll have to do this ourselves,” I declared.

“You know how to cook?” Brax asked as he eyed the myriad of ingredients before us.

“I know how to bake muffins. That’s all Mama was able to teach me before… Well, just before.” I cleared my throat. “Cooking can’t be much different. Hand me that—that thing over there.”

He raised a brow. “The spatula?”

“If you know so much, then you make something!”

He raised his hands defensively.

“I don’t know anything about cooking! I mostly eat things raw in my wolf form. I love a good hunt.” He smiled wolfishly. I scrunched my nose. “Rabbit, deer, bear… anything raw and steaming—”

“Brax. That kind of talk is just uncivilized. I don’t wanna hear about your raw anything,” I tsked.

The sack of flour weighed a ton as I picked it up to carefully pour into my bowl, but the irresponsible bastard who works down here must’ve opened it weirdly, because half the contents spilled onto the counter and the floor. I shifted at the last second, getting the perfect amount into the bowl.

Satisfied, I dropped the sack to the floor, turned—

“Oof.” I bumped right into the pup. “Watch it! What did I say about getting in my way?”

“That’s the first time you’ve said my name.”

I scoffed, shoving him away, dumping some water I found into the flour. Smelled fresh enough. Now some salt.

“Is not. I’ve said your name plenty.”

I pushed past him again, some of the mushy contents sloshing over the side. I stepped over the mess and decided the cook wouldn’t mind it once he tasted my masterpiece.

The mutt grabbed my arm, and more of my mixture flew. I frowned at the empty bowl.

“Ugh—look what you made me do! Now I have to start over,” I growled.

“Say it again,” he breathed, his hazel eyes bearing down on me.

“You made me drop my ingredients and now—”

He lunged forward, and I dropped the bowl. Clang, clang, clang, it went as it bounced, specs of goop hitting everything.

He grabbed my face, leaning in, lips puckered—

I shoved his chest hard enough that he fell on his rear.

“What the hell!” I shouted, folding my arms as I looked down at him.

He snarled. “You’ve kissed me before!” He scrambled up, trying to scrape the mess off, only making it worse.