Shuri turned out to be a dog. A pretty damn large dog, who sat on its haunches outside Ian’s car as if politely waiting for an invitation. The woman named Chrissie, one hand on the dog’s collar, looked between Ian and Bo. “This is Shuri. She’s a very well-behaved yellow lab. She’s a calm and gentle sweetheart. Are either of you allergic to dogs?”
Not allergic, but also not crazy about getting dog hair in his car. As a surgeon, Dr. Ian Finnegan was meticulous about his surroundings. Or maybe—as Bo kept telling him—it was because he was an OCD control freak.
“I have a blanket for her,” Chrissie said quickly. “She can curl up on that. I promise she’s good in cars. She only threw up a few times on the trip up.” At Ian’s automatic reaction, she added, “I’m kidding. She has issues, but they’re
