14. Anders

Chapter 14

Anders

I want to thank you for everything you've done for me .

I scanned the text from Brett. Goody, I loved thank-yous of the sexual kind. As I was between jobs and at the hardware store, I couldn't whip myself out and send him a dick pic. Maybe in the car?

After paying for my purchases lickety split, I tore out to the car. The parking lot was empty of people and only a few cars, none parked nearby, so I hunkered down in the front seat and unzipped my pants.

"Anders, you forgot your angle valves." Marge's frantic voice reached through the open window as I snapped a pic.

Shit and double damn. I scooted up and stuck my head out the window so Marge wouldn't see my length. It was hard to miss ‘cause I was big. I was kinda proud of that. But also, it was stiff and a little hard to hide if she leaned in the window. Yikes, poor Marge!

"Silly me. I was so distracted with work, they slipped my mind."

"Work, huh?" She handed over my purchases, but as she strode back to the store, she muttered, "Work? Is that what they call it?"

Damn. I peered at my face in the rearview mirror, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Brett would laugh when I told him, or I hoped he would.

I thought better of sending the NSFW image in case my mate was still at work. He should have finished his shift fifteen minutes ago, but it was better to confirm he was out of the hospital before sending him images of my nether region.

Can't wait . I pressed send.

What would you like to eat?

He was giving me a choice. Yum! Have you left work?

Yes, I just arrived home .

Okay. All systems go . It was too difficult to send a pic of my hole, and if Marge saw me with my naked butt in the air trying to take a photo, I'd have to frequent another hardware store on the other side of Oakheart. But the dick pic I could do.

Brett texted. No peaches?

I'm in the car .

Don't text and drive . He added a grumpy face emoji.

I'm not.

Fine. I should have explained. I want to cook dinner for you. We can do peaches and eggplants afterward .

Anything re the food . I didn't want to be prescriptive and tell him to cook steaks when his unicorn might take off and I'd have to leave Snowford and follow them.

It'll be a surprise. Come over when you finish work .

Can't wait . I added heart emojis and started the car.

I had to run home at the end of the day and shower, and on the way to Brett's I picked up vegan chocolate and a bunch of flowers. My mate met me at the door saying we were having soufflé for starters, shrimp for the main meal, and lemon chiffon pie for dessert.

While I was hungry, I secretly hoped we could skip the first two courses and jump to dessert, eating it in bed.

The pie was in the oven, and Brett said he'd make the soufflés and put them in once the pie was cooked.

"How can I help?" I assumed he was making something simple like a stir fry with rice. Seemed like a lot of work, but I appreciated him making the effort for me.

"Beat the egg whites." I pictured myself using a rotary beater like my mom had as a kid. I was often roped into it when her arms got tired. But Brett had bought handheld electric beaters, so I didn't have to do much except hold it and watch the peaks form.

My mate had already separated the yolks and the whites, so I set to work, the beater's mechanical grinding pulsing through my hand as I held it. But I peered into the bowl as the egg whites stayed as they were.

"They're not fluffing up. Maybe there was a bit of yolk in there."

"Keep beating." Brett threw a dish towel over his shoulder as he washed the shrimp.

While I wasn't much of a cook, I was pretty sure the shrimp were changing color under the water… the hot water.

"Ummm, sweetheart, maybe use cold water."

"Huh?" He had one hand under the running water as he bent over and peered into the oven. He stood up, and I jerked my head at the shrimp that were pinkening. "Shite. What have I done?"

Cooked the shrimp under hot water was my take, but I zipped my mouth. I'd said enough.

"Ewww." We both studied the shrimp, their tails were raw, their middles partly cooked, and their heads were saying, "What the rickety fuck?"

Brett tossed them in the garbage as I was saying, "We could do something with them. Not sure what. Make soup." Oops, too late.

"We still have the soufflés and the pie." As the words left my mouth, the oven dinged. Brett slipped on oven gloves and removed the pie. But as he set it atop the stove, the filling spilled over the side.

"It should have gelled." Brett stuck his face close to the filling, and I turned off the beaters and did the same. "Maybe I got the cooking time wrong." He checked the recipe. "Nope. It's more like soup."

"We could eat it with a spoon," I suggested. "It'd be yummy." Maybe.

My snow leopard made a face at the slurpy mess and muttered how raw food was better.

"It's a disaster." Tears streamed over my mate's cheeks, and I rested the beaters on the counter and hugged him. "But we can eat the soufflés."

We turned our attention to the egg whites, the ones that looked the same as when I started beating them. Trying to stay positive, I suggested we mix the whites and the unused yolks and make scrambled eggs.

Brett and I shared a glance and shook our heads. The poor egg whites had been mistreated enough and neither of us wanted to eat them in any form.

"I have fancy cheese." Brett opened the fridge and waved a packet of slices at me. "And I have yummy bread."

"And I brought dark chocolate." I kissed the end of his nose. "It'll be a feast."

When dinner was ready, we each took a tray containing soda, grilled cheese, and chocolate outside, as Brett's unicorn needed fresh air. My snow leopard wasn't bothered about being cooped up inside, but after being confronted with a sloppy pie, half-cooked shrimp, and egg whites, he agreed we had to escape the kitchen.

"I'm so sorry." Brett popped a piece of chocolate in his mouth and bit into the grilled cheese sandwich. "Yum, cheese and chocolate are a great combination. Try it."

I did and agreed with him. "See, we made a discovery tonight that we mightn't have if not for the three-course disaster."

Brett cackled. "Three. I ruined not one, not two, but three courses. That takes some doing."

"I think you deserve a medal."

He licked a smidgeon of chocolate from his lips. "And where will you place said medal?"

Hmmm, I needed to consider the location. "Not here." I kissed his brow. "Not here either." Another kiss but on his ear. "Probably not here either." I placed my lips on his chest. I blew a kiss at his crotch. "There. That's where I'll put it."

Brett planted a kiss on my mouth. "You taste delicious."

"Back at ya."

We sat in silence, enjoying the cool evening air and mulching on our food.

"What was that?" Brett half stood, holding his tray. He didn't say, "Did you hear that?" because as two shifters, we knew the other person would have picked it up.

"Yes, it sounds like a puppy." We walked out to the sidewalk, and as it was garbage night, Brett and his neighbors had their wheelie bins lined up on the curb.

"No, surely not. People wouldn't be so cruel, would they?" He lifted the lid of his bin and a puppy with dark brown eyes and a forlorn expression stared up at us. Brett lifted the dog out and the little pup clung to my mate's chest.

"I can't keep him here. There's a no-pet rule."

He'd gone from finding the little guy to "I'm keeping him but not in my house" in less than ten seconds. But I was a softie when it came to babies. Human, shifter, or animal.

"He can live with me." I'd have to convince someone at the community center to look after him during the day. That was doable.

We didn't have any puppy food, so I dashed to the closest pet store before it closed while Brett gave the puppy a bath because he was a stink-a-roo having been in the wheeled bin. Ewww!

When I arrived back, he was freshly washed, and he devoured the soft food I brought.

My mate grinned as we sat on the floor while the puppy ate. "Meet the newest member of our family: Chocolate."