It was bullshit.
Luckily, Bo didn’t call me out on the awkward comment.
Unluckily, I now had to stick to my guns and eat both meals.
I heated the eggs for a couple seconds and took them to the table, downing them quickly while he finished making lunch. They were far from delicious—they’d been done for hours—but way better than nothing.
I definitely wasn’t going to complain.
Bo sat down beside me with two stacks of sandwiches as I scraped my plate clean.
I looked over at the second stack. “You know I don’t eat as much as a grizzly, right?”
“I’ll finish whatever you don’t.”
I moved a few of my sandwiches to his stack, so there were only two left for me.
We were both quiet as we blew through the food.
When we were done, I took the dishes to the sink.
“You don’t need to clean anything,” Bo grumbled, following me.
“If I can’t leave for the Canyon, I might as well make myself useful. Do you have a dishwasher?”
He made a noise of confirmation and pulled open what looked like a cabinet. He’d definitely redone the kitchen, though he’d gone with a rustic version of a modern look.
I did a double-take. “Damn, that looks cool.”
“I’m sure your alpha has something fancier.
“He’s not mine, and I wouldn’t know. I’ve done everything I can to stay as far from him as possible.”
Bo folded his arms and leaned back against the cabinets, only a foot or two away from me. “How often did you see him?”
“Once a year as a kid, and you know I got out of some of those. The last few years, it’s been once a quarter. I’ve managed to dodge over half of them, but it’s always awkward.”
“What were the meetings like?”
“Uncomfortable dinners, usually. He talked about himself, and didn’t ask questions about me other than surface level. He knows my favorite color and flower, and he knows why I don’t like dresses. Pretty sure that’s it, though.”
Bo scoffed. “What are they?”
“What are what?”
“Your favorite color and flower?”
I shot him a look over my shoulder. “Did you really just ask me that?”
He grunted.
I waited.
Finally, he jerked his head in a nod.
I looked back at the dishes.
What kind of parallel universe had I walked into? This version of Ambrose was nothing like the asshole I’d known since I was a kid. When I was in high school, he would’ve sooner mocked me or shot me with a water gun than asked anything about me.
