Rescuing the Bad Boy: Bad Boy Sweet Romance (Last Chance at Love Book 1)

by Anna Catherine Field

  I laugh. “Really?”

  “I’m assuming Buddy is an animal.”

  “A dog. He came in last night, injured, and took a liking to me.”

  Gabrielle taps her pen on her desk. “I’m glad to hear it’s going so well. Do you feel like you’re gaining a new appreciation for animals?”

  I shrug. “I guess so. It’s not like I didn’t like animals before. My uncle ran this business and I got caught up in it.”

  “Understanding your part in your crimes is part of your rehabilitation.”

  “Yeah, I get that,” I say, resting my fingers on the back of the chair. “But James didn’t give me much choice.”

  “You’re an adult, Griffin. You’re responsible and accountable for your own actions.”

  “It’s not like I hurt anyone—” I start, but then think about Buddy and his owner. I’d recognized him because we’d sold dogs to him. Did those dogs end up in the fighting rings? I frown. “I get it. Or I’m getting it. A little more every day. You’re right. James may have been an influence, but I was an active participant.”

  She looks pleased with my realization. “I won’t make you go work an overnight shift. It’s not required, plus you have some responsibilities at the house, but it sounds like they could use your help. If you want to go, I’m okay with that.”

  “Sure, I’m happy to help out. I know Maverick has her hands full with a litter of puppies and everything else going on.”

  Gabrielle watches me closely. “Remember you’re there to work—not socialize.”

  I laugh. “There’s not much social going on at the Farm. It’s just Maverick, her brother Paul, and two other workers.”

  “Just remember your place.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  She nods, excusing me, and I walk back down the hall. As much as I’m happy to go help with Buddy, I can’t deny that, increasingly, I like being around Maverick. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around someone so passionate about what they do—back to my baseball days. I didn’t realize how much I missed that kind of enthusiasm. Unfortunately, I know she doesn’t trust me, not yet at least, but maybe if I hang around a little more that’ll change.

  A guy can hope.

  For the second time, I wake with a dog on my chest.

  “When did you get up here?” I ask, petting Buddy on the head. He pushes the tip of his nose into the crook of my neck. “I don’t remember issuing an invitation.”

  He’d been so happy to see me when I returned to the Farm the night before. Maverick, from her spot on the porch of the house, looked wary. I made an effort not to be a bother, taking my bag and Buddy back to the small room off the barn.

  Now that it’s morning,

  I push Buddy off and quickly change. I step into the barn and start the process of feeding the dogs. Buddy sticks right behind me, limping on his injured leg, but wanting to be close.

  “He’s really taken to you,” Maverick says, as she walks into the kennel. “Thanks for coming back last night. He wasn’t going to settle down otherwise.”

  I reach down and rub Buddy’s head. “I don’t mind. He’s a good dog and I’m happy to help out around here. I know you guys have your hands full.” I look around, noticing her shadow is missing. “Where’s Lolly?”

  “Lolly’s decided she’s the puppies’ surrogate mom. They’re snuggled up in the house.”

  I smile. “That’s sweet.”

  She gives me a weird look and then says, “I’m headed to the stables. Finish up out here and then find Paul, he probably has a few things for you to do.”

  I feed the dogs and then secure Buddy back in the room. He’s worn out and happy to have a little solitude. The rest of the morning passes quickly. Letting the dogs out for a run, repairing a rusted hinge on the pasture gate. Tracking down Hamilton, who was hiding in plain sight under a massive pile of leaves.

  Paul approaches me as I clean up in the washroom. “Can you take the ATV out to the stable and give Maverick her lunch? She’ll forget otherwise.”

  “Sure.”

  The ATV sits behind the barn, the key dangling in the ignition. A basket of lunch is already in the passenger seat. Buddy hops in the back and I crank the vehicle, the engine rumbling to life, and start the drive down the dirt road. The stables are over a small hill, out in a different pasture. I bump along until I get to the weathered, gray building.

  I’m greeted with the scent of manure and hay—also the instant I turn off the rumbling engine, loud, upbeat, pop music blaring from inside the barn.

  I grab the basket and walk into the stable and hear singing over the vocals.

  “Shake it off, shake, shake, shake it off, shake shake…”

  I peer into the stable and see Maverick holding a hair brush like a microphone, dancing in circles around the tan horse. It’s the most easy and free I’ve seen her—not to mention the most adorable. Pieces of hair slip from her ponytail and her eyes are closed as she gives her all to Taylor Swift. The horse seems perfectly at ease, as though this is something that happens every day.

  I lean against the doorframe and watch with amusement. There’s more to Maverick Frayer than animal-loving activist. There’s a fun side, too.

  “To the fella over there with the hella good hair—” She lunges and points her finger in my direction, her eyes slowly opening before they pop wide. She drops the brush and the horse shifts uneasily. “Holy—” She takes a deep breath. “What are you doing here?!”

  I hold up my hand and the basket. I fight a smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I brought you lunch.”

  She shakes her head and walks over to the iPod on the floor and turns it off. Taylor’s voice vanishes. When she looks up, her cheeks are red. “Don’t say a word.”

  “A word about what?”

  Her glare is fierce. “I like Taylor Swift. So what?”

  I shrug. “What’s not to like?”

  She rolls her eyes and picks up the brush. She gives the horse one last stroke and a pat on the back before walking out of the stall and into the main area. “How long were you standing there?”

  The answer is ‘long enough’, and she knows it.

  She grimaces and puts up the brush and a few other tools she’d been using. She eyes the basket. “I assume that’s from my brother?”

  “Yeah, he’s worried you won’t eat.”

  She takes the basket and looks inside. “He’s worried I won’t eat healthy. He keeps pushing his food agenda on me.”

  “Do you want me to take it back?”

  “No. Resistance is futile.” She walks out the opposite side of the stable, through a wooden door. In the distance are a few horses grazing in the pasture and nearby is a picnic table. She sets the basket on top. “Did you eat already?”

  “No.”

  “Well, you may as well tackle some of this rabbit food with me.”

  She’s inviting me to eat with her? I slowly walk out the door and onto the hay-covered ground. “I can leave you alone if you want.”

  She rolls her eyes and points to the bench seat across from her. “Sit. Eat. Tell me how Buddy’s doing.”

  As she unpacks the lunch I give her an update on the dog. Paul made a feast; grilled chicken, hummus, olives, and vegetables. As much as Maverick protested, she piles food on the green plastic plate he sent with the basket—there are two actually, and two cans of berry flavored sparkling water. Had he planned on me eating lunch with her? Was this a set up?

  Before I can think about it further, one of the horses in the pasture comes ambling our way. He quietly eyes the food on the table. I shift over, taking my plate with me.

  “Does Molly make you nervous?” Mave asks.

  “I’m not used to animals that big.”

  “Molly is the sweetest. She’s probably hoping Paul stashed an apple in the basket for her.” She fishes around the basket and pulls out a shiny red piece of fruit. “Sure enough.”

  She stands and starts toward the horse but then pauses
. “You want to feed her?”

  “Uh, no thanks.”

  A small smile twists at her lips. “Come on. Don’t be afraid.”

  I grimace, trying not to fall for the age-old trick of questioning my masculinity, but fail. Miserably. For some reason I don’t want Maverick to see me as weak—or flawed—any more than she already does.

  I stand and approach her and the horse. Molly has deep, soulful, brown eyes and keeps nudging Mave, seeking the apple. She holds it out to me and I take it, our fingers grazing in the process.

  “Just give it to her?” I ask.

  “Well, flatten your palm and place it in the middle.” I do as she says, and she nods. “Right. Now hold it out.”

  I do, trying not to flinch as the massive animal comes at me with his large mouth. She takes the apple gently, whisking it away in a whisper. I laugh and Maverick smiles up at me, her face glowing, cementing how pretty she is.

  I turn away, knowing it’s stupid to think of her like that. It’s against a million rules of my community service, including the warning Gabrielle gave me the night before. It doesn’t matter anyway, Mave thinks I’m a terrible, awful human being. Feeding a horse won’t change that.

  “Have you ever ridden one?” she asks suddenly.

  “A horse? No.”

  “Want to?” Her eyes twinkle and I sense the challenge under her words.

  “Um…” There’s a look of anticipation in her eyes and I get the feeling that how I answer could change the dynamic between us. Maybe I could earn a little of that trust. “Sure. Yeah. That’d be cool.”

  She smiles, and I move to clean up the lunch while she starts to get the horses ready. I’m not sure this is a good idea, but it means I get to spend a little more time with Maverick alone.

  Something I definitely want.

  18

  Mave

  I take the lead, directing Molly down the trail on the edge of the pasture. Occasionally I glance backwards, making sure Griffin is still with me—it’s not that much of a worry, his horse, Roscoe, is easy going and happy to follow along.

  Asking him to ride was a challenge I didn’t really expect him to take. He’s clearly uneasy around the larger animals, and Griffin seems like he likes to take the easy way out. From quitting baseball to stealing dogs and selling them for a profit on the internet. There’s nothing about this guy that says he’s willing to push himself outside his boundaries. It’s not the first time he’s surprised me.

  It's nearing dusk and I know we should head back. Paul will start to worry, the puppies need feeding, Buddy is probably starting to worry about Griffin. I continue over the ridge to the edge of the cliff, then pull on the reins, easing Molly to a stop.

  Roscoe walks beside me and stills.

  “Wow,” Griffin says, looking ahead. Below the cliff is a wide, clear lake. “I didn’t know this was here.”

  “This property holds a lot of surprises.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.” He looks over at me, his eyes warm. My skin tingles and the moment stretches between us.

  I shift and slide off the horse. “Can you get off or do you need help?”

  His eyebrow rises, and the mixed-message of my words hits me. My cheeks flame. “Off the horse! Do you need help off the horse?”

  His lips quirk. “I think I can manage.”

  I busy myself tying Molly up to a tree, and then do the same for Roscoe.

  Not trusting myself to speak, I walk over the small incline toward the weathered bench that overlooks the lake. The sun has already started to lower in the west.

  “My Pop Pop built this bench. He called it his thinking spot.” I point across the lake. “The sun sets right over there.”

  “It’s beautiful,” he says, taking off his baseball cap and rolling it tight, before putting it back on. His hair curls at the ends.

  “Do you miss it?” I point to the cap. “Playing?”

  “Sometimes,” he admits. “But it feels very far away, like it was part of another lifetime.”

  “I get that,” I reply. “When I think about my mom it was so long ago and things were just…not great. It feels like I’m viewing it from underwater or something.”

  He nods. “Baseball was something I did with my dad. It was our dream together.” His jaw clenches. “Not in the way that like, he forced me into it. He actually wasn’t very athletic and didn’t really get it, but he supported me a hundred percent. That support helped motivate me when things got tough. Through losing streaks or injuries. After they died, it just lost some of its luster. I’d head out to the pitcher’s mound and look for him in the crowd, waiting for him to nod, to let me know I had it. Without him there it just seemed too hard to do.” He looks at me. “So, to answer your question, I do miss it—but the way it was before.”

  The sun starts its descent, slowly turning a fiery red.

  His feet shuffle in the dirt and he rests his hand on the bench, next to mine. Our pinkies are almost touching and I feel the vibration of a current ebbing between us. He looks down at them, then back at the horizon. “He’d be devastated to know I traded a baseball career for—well, all this trouble.”

  His face is cast in a warm glow. “Why’d you start flipping dogs?”

  “My uncle took me in when my parents died, then again when I dropped out of school. He was furious I blew my chance at the majors, but he stuck by me and for a few months he let me lie around the couch, wallowing in depression and self-pity. After a while he told me I had to earn my keep. I had no degree. I’d never held a job since I was so focused on baseball. He told me he had a quick way to make some cash, and the next thing I know, I’m snatching dogs in the park.”

  Anger wells in me every time I think about it. Those poor dogs. Their poor families.

  He looks up at me, eyes repentant. “I was good at it. I guess people thought I looked harmless and really, I thought it was a victimless crime.”

  “It’s not—” I start.

  He slides his hand over, covering mine. “I know, Maverick. You’ve shown me differently. I appreciate that.”

  I swallow, feeling the heat of his skin against mine. The tingling sensation from before amplifies. This man—he makes me angry, annoyed, and infuriated. But there’s something else. There’s a kindness underneath it all—a guy willing to help me with my crazy, risky plans. A man that an injured, abused dog has fallen for.

  I should tell him about my mom—the truth about my past and why this is so hard for me. Why relationships and trust don’t come easy, but I don’t want to screw up the moment.

  I’m scared to reveal myself.

  He’s still holding my hand, but my eyes are drawn to the horizon. In a matter of seconds, the sky has turned to flame, mottled orange and red and pink. The moment is perfect, quiet, other than the nickering of the horses and the pounding of my heart in my ears.

  I look over at Griffin to see if he’s watching the sunset, but his eyes are on me. He reaches out with his free hand and tucks a loose piece of hair behind my ear. His eyes are intent, focused, and a shiver runs down my spine when they dart to my mouth. The sun dips below the trees, taking away the glow of light, and I remove my hand from his.

  “It’ll get dark fast. We should head back.”

  “Right.”

  We walk back over to the horses and he says, “Thank you for showing me that. It was incredible.”

  I nod and climb into Molly’s saddle, avoiding his eye, reeling from my emotions.

  Griffin McGuire isn’t a man I can fall for. Not just because of his past and his crimes, but because the last thing I need in my life is the complications of a relationship. That’s why I have animals. They can’t hurt me.

  19

  Griffin

  I should have kissed her.

  I almost kissed her.

  I really wanted to kiss her.

  Why didn’t I kiss her?

  This is the mantra that runs through my mind as Roscoe carries me back to the stable.

 
I tell myself it was just the moment, the sunset, the solitude, the weathered thinking bench built by her grandfather. That I didn’t really want to kiss Maverick, a woman that has made it absolutely clear that she thinks I’m a terrible, irredeemable human being.

  But even as I follow her horse, eyeing her slim back and delicate neck, focused on the way her hair bounces gently as Molly trots along, I know it wasn’t a fleeting urge.

  I want to kiss Maverick Frayer. Badly.

  Quietly, I help her put up the horses, hanging the saddle and making sure they’re fed and watered. We lock up the stable and, surprisingly, she lets me sits in the passenger seat, letting me drive the ATV back to the house.

  I park it where I found it, back behind the barn. I grab the picnic basket out of the back and hand it to her. “Thanks for sharing your lunch—and your view.”

  “You’re welcome.” Her eyes dart to the ground. “Thank you for telling me about your past. I know that wasn’t easy.”

  “Yeah, well, like they say at the halfway house, the road to redemption is rocky and long.”

  “They say that?” she asks.

  “Gabrielle has it on a pillow.”

  She tucks her hands in her back pockets and laughs. “It’s a good saying.”

  “I should go let Buddy out.”

  “The puppies,” she blurts. “I need to check on them, too.”

  “Right.”

  “Right.”

  We stand across from one another, the dynamics of our relationship ebbing like the water on the lake. There’s a ripple running between us, threatening to either push us together or pull us apart. I’m ready for the push. Maverick, taking a step back, makes it clear she’s not.

  I’m in the Redemption House kitchen cleaning up from dinner. It’s group night and I was required to come back for the meeting. Buddy follows behind me in the kitchen, waiting for a scrap to fall. Gabrielle was happy to let me bring him with me—and I was shocked Maverick approved of me taking the dog off the farm. Maybe she is starting to trust me a little bit; either that, or the howling was driving everyone crazy.