Page 49

Dick is having a playdate with Jensen while I walk my rounds in here. With all the chaos surrounding Thanksgiving, it's about time I get into the Christmas spirit. I’m by far not the only person starting early on their Christmas shopping, and it’s bound to get too chaotic in here to keep an eye on a dog.

Right as the first notes of ‘Last Christmas’ by Wham! echo through the store, I turn into the pet food aisle, about to hum along and get kibble for Dick when—

“Brooke?” I might only see her back, but I'd recognize her fiery red hair and moss-green, poofy winter jacket anywhere.

Her shoulders tense, and she slowly turns around. "Kieran?"

"Funny meeting you here." I cackle and scan the aisle for Dick's dog food. My son is particular about his dinners and the brands he’ll consider eating. "What are you doing here?"

"The same thing as you, I assume." She points at her cart, filled to the brim with food, cat litter, and bags of straw for Daisy.

"Partly." I nod at my cart with a proud grin.

Her eyes widen. "Right."

She stares at the giant inflatable Santa Claus figurine I fully intend to position by my living room so it faces Lauren's house. Because it’s really fucking creepy, and I love messing with her. She’ll hate me.

"Yes, Brooke. It's Christmas." I reach past her, pull a huge bag of dog food off the shelf and heave it into my cart. "You know, the thing where people come together and have a good time and family members pretend to love each other."

Well, most family members. I don't have that luxury after all.

She watches me amusedly as I stumble my way through my definition of Christmas.

"Anyway..." I take a deep breath. "How is my new bestie doing?"

"Daisy?" She arches her eyebrows. "You know, she is available for adoption. Just pointing it out for no reason at all."

"You’re not as sneaky as you think.” Oh, is that a smile tugging at her lips? “I will totally consider it once my son is out of puberty." I rub my eyes. I’m getting a headache even remembering his recent shenanigans. Several chewed-up pillows. A trip to Henry's because I was sure he’d eaten half of one. My favorite pair of shoes I had to sacrifice to the garbage Gods after Dick declared them chewing toys.

"Trust me, it's better for everyone involved. I mean, what would happen if he randomly decides he suddenly doesn't like Daisy anymore? She got bullied once. I'm not going to let her go through that again."

"Admirable," she murmurs. She’s staring at my lips as I pull them into a smirk. She's flustered. How cute. I could watch the light pink on her cheeks and the way her eyes keep darting away from my face for hours.

"So, you haven't decorated the shelter for Christmas yet?"

She shakes her head. "I think we have a garland somewhere in the basement and maybe a wreath. But apart from that..." She shrugs. "Why would we? The animals don’t care much about Christmas décor, and we’re not exactly overrun with applicants I’d trust to keep animals longer than the new year."

"Having fun decorating is the use," I stress and tap my lip. I have an idea. "Are you done shopping for animal food?"

"Yes, but—"

"Okay, I'm kidnapping you." I hook my fingers into the metal frame of her cart and pull it with me so she has to follow. Damn, it's heavy, though.

"Hey, Kieran! Where are you going?"

"We are going Christmas décor shopping," I proclaim over my shoulder and pull her to where I assume the overly happy jingles are coming from.

"Kieran, I don't need any Christmas decorations." She tries to get in front of the cart, but I evade her.

"And I don't need your negativity."

"Kieran, I can't spend shelter money on Christmas decor. Not with, you know—"

"Oh, please." I scoff and make a turn because I see Christmas trees in my periphery. "Then they're on me. Hell yes." I stop and turn to her with a wicked grin. "I'm donating Christmas decor," I announce, celebratory. "I'm sure the girls will appreciate it. So you can either help me pick, or..."

My attention jumps to the bright pink Christmas tree in my cart, and I nod at it with a smirk. "I will pick."

"Is that a threat?" she asks in a low voice, her eyes darting from my face to, admittedly, the rather tasteless decor in my cart.