by Megan Ryder
Dylan studied the ground and building, his expression behind his sunglasses inscrutable. Savannah shifted from foot to foot, dying to jump in and start talking but something told her to wait. Sharing too many of dreams, being told they were stupid and unrealistic, had her holding her breath and waiting. Something told her his words, his thoughts, his opinion would matter, more than anyone else’s ever had. And she was terrified he would destroy her.
He walked around the building and she followed him, taking in the overgrown weeds, cracked concrete, general abandoned air of the location. He peered in one of the cloudy windows, not really able to see inside the dim building.
“So, this is your dream?” His voice was neutral and no judgment.
She nodded, almost afraid to speak. “It’s not much to look at.”
“It’s a wreck, Savannah. I can see why they abandoned it.”
She sighed. “I know. But it has a good foundation. We can clean up the kennels and add on to the building to make it more friendly. Right now, it’s pretty obvious that it’s a bad place. But with some bright colors and more open areas, it could be better. Behind the building, we’ll have a large fenced in area with play equipment, like a doggie playground, for the dogs to play on. They need more than a concrete run to be happy. This way, they’ll have some place to socialize with other dogs and get used to new things.” She walked around the building, pointing out the spots where she wanted to add sites. “Over there, we’ll have another area for training. I want to offer training programs here for people who adopt shelter dogs or any dog really. We can offer all kinds of classes. Ultimately, I’d love for law enforcement and therapy groups to start adopting shelter dogs instead of special breeds and train them for working dogs. Imagine the lives we could save, Dylan.”
She heard her own voice, knew she was talking fast and loud, as if trying to convince him, to drown out any doubts, but she couldn’t stop. Dylan was watching her, a half smile playing about his lips.
“You really love these dogs, don’t you?”
She bent down to dig up a protruding stick, avoiding his question for a moment, trying to put her answer into words. Dogs loved her no matter what, always there for her when she needed them. They never took but always gave more then they took from her. Unconditional love. Humans were not like that. How to explain that without sounding pathetic and needy?
“Yeah, dogs are amazing. I’ve seen dogs neglected and abused yet still try to love humans. They should hate us all, yet they forgive and just want to love us. Unconditional love, Dylan. They have it. Look at Sadie.”
“Your 501(c)(3) status will help you do this?”
She looked away, her hand on the concrete wall. “We already have that. Now we have to get sponsors and run fund-raisers. Then we can afford a place like this. It won’t be easy but it’s worth it.”
“Is it?” His voice was quiet but his words punched her in the gut.
“You doubt that after meeting Sadie and seeing the shelter? Dogs down here don’t have a chance at a life. They get a couple of days if they’re lucky. This can help so many.”
He nodded and looked around again. “Well, it’s a great location. I mean, you have a lot of space to expand and no neighbors to complain. You may run into trouble advertising but you’re not that far out from town, just a bit off the beaten track. Pets are becoming a bigger part of people’s lives, more pampered, more a part of the family. I was shocked when I went to get more dog food today. Clothes, more toys than I ever saw as a kid, and so many food choices. And doggie daycare? Seriously?” He took off his glasses, tucked them into his shirt pocket, and focused on her. “So, this is more than just a rescue center but it’s more of a full-service pet center. Not just rescue but a true business including training, daycare, maybe grooming and boarding?”
She blinked. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. I had been so focused on the rescue side of it, how all those pieces fit into the rescue side but, yes, I guess it would be a more of a dog center.”
“That changes things. You’re looking at this wrong, Savannah. You’re looking too small, focused on one aspect. You need to think of it bigger, as if the rescue is a part of the business side. Open the business and bring the rescue into it. By doing it that way, you could go for business loans and grants, assistance in that respect. Women in business is a big deal right now. You have the resume. Parlay that into your dream.”
She leaned against the chain link fence, ideas firing in her brain. “That had never occurred to me. But would someone give me a loan for this?”
He pursed his lips and glanced around him. “Maybe. If you were as persuasive as you were for me.” He stepped over to her, grasped her shoulders and pulled her up. “You can do this, Savannah. It’s not exactly what I would have thought of but you’re already doing it. You just don’t have a place for it.”
She gazed up at him. “You think so? You really think I can do this?”
“Do you want it?” he asked. She nodded. “Then yes, I think you can do anything you want, if you want it bad enough. Use the rescue angle. It might be able to get you started here. Add in the business loan and you can do both.”
Impulsively, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him close. “Thank you, Dylan. I never thought of that.”
After a short pause, he hugged her back. “I’m not just a catcher. I got a business degree as a fall back. It was always pretty interesting to me.”
“Well, maybe I’ll have to use you to help me with this. Maybe a trade for my help with Sadie.” She teased, trying not to think about how good it felt to have his arms around her, how strong he felt in her arms, and how right this moment felt.
“Deal.” His words were swift and heartfelt.
Too bad he was only thinking of the dog and nothing else because, right about now, Savannah would have given him anything he wanted, especially herself.
Chapter Nine
Later that evening, after the furniture had been delivered and the half-eaten couch had been removed, Dylan cooked steaks on the grills for him and Savannah, as a thank you for her help with Sadie. Savannah should have cried off. Her sister was doing God knew what in her house. She had dogs to take care of. But the cocoon that had surrounded them at the site shielded her from reality and she craved the period of isolation, time away from the responsibilities she had never once shirked or shied away from. She also sensed something inside Dylan, a loneliness that lurked, buried deep inside, he might not have even known existed and damn but Savannah had always been a sucker for people in need.
Dylan needed her, more than he knew.
So, she sat on a chair on his patio, sipping a beer and watched him manfully work the immaculate grill and hid her smile behind the frosted glass. “Has that grill ever been used? It looks showroom clean.”
He barely spared her a glance. “Of course I’ve used it a couple of times. Not often. I’m rarely here. But I clean it after using it according to the directions.”
She snorted. “Grills aren’t supposed to be cleaned to within an inch of their lives, Dylan. You’re supposed to leave some of the drippings on them for seasonings. That’s what makes the meat amazing.”
“It’s unsanitary.”
She took another sip of her drink and her mind flashed to an image of Dylan and his incredible control and focus in the bedroom. What would get that man to lose control? Even better, what would it be like to have every ounce of his control and focus directed at her? She shivered despite the late July heat. It had been far too long since she had a man keeping her company. Most of her past companions were more of the wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am types. Something told her Dylan would take his time and be totally committed to his partner’s pleasure and if that wasn’t sexy, she didn’t know what was.
Of course, she was daydreaming about his bed and the only time she’d been in it she had two dogs for company, not the man. And he just bought a bed for her to use when she was here, so daydreaming about scratching her itch was prob
ably going to stay just that. A dream.
As if sensing her thoughts or maybe her burning gaze, he turned and quirked an eyebrow. “Medium rare?”
She nodded, determined to focus on the present and not her fantasies. That was what vibrators and books were for. He brought the food over on a large cutting board, two juicy steaks cooked perfectly and some vegetables.
“Nice spread, Dylan. I didn’t know you cooked.”
He shrugged and sat down, his shirt stretching across his lean chest. He reached across the table for the steak and her mouth watered at the muscles rippling in his arms. He wasn’t an overly muscular guy, like so many athletes seemed to be. In fact, he was on the lean side, whipcord thin, but strong. His muscles were tight cords roping his arms and legs and she longed to trace the lines with her fingers, or tongue, or anything he’d let her.
Instead, she asked the first question that came to mind. “You’re not built like a typical catcher.”
He arched a brow at her. “You’ve known many catchers?” He settled back in the metal chair. “I’m a little taller than most but I wanted to play a position that my dad never did. Call it teenaged rebellion or whatever. I’m sure a shrink would have a field day with it.”
She took a bite of the steak and almost moaned at the flavor. “Your dad played too?”
He seemed fixated on her mouth, but jerked when she spoke. “Yeah, he played second base, most infield positions. I think he liked me as catcher because I could be his audience, throw the ball to him and not take his spot.”
She stared, the food forgotten. “You’re kidding, right? Your father was jealous of you?”
He shrugged. “Jealous is a strong word. We were never in the big leagues together, although I think he wanted it. Could have happened too if I didn’t go to college. He was royally pissed that I went to South Florida instead of in the draft like he did.”
“Why didn’t you go into the draft then?”
He snorted and swallowed some beer as if drowning the words. “It would have been a publicity stunt for him, a way to keep him in the league. He never quite lived up to the expectations everyone had for him. He went in the first round and was fast-tracked to the big leagues, within a couple of years. But his batting, his fielding, his base running, never quite made the numbers people thought he would. So, he bounced from team to team, never having a home.”
“And, so, you never had a home either. You learned not to trust people and you began to rely on yourself.”
He grinned. “And I didn’t even have to pay for expensive therapy for that insight. Just a steak and some dog training.”
She grinned. “You spend enough time around animals and the people become more clear. We’re really just big animals.”
“Maybe. I wanted a backup plan. My dad is still looking for that, doing some color commentary, but he’d always hoped I’d make it bigger than he did so he could hitch his wagon to mine. I do okay but I guess I’m more like him than I ever thought.”
“Really?” The mood on the patio was getting heavy and, while she was fascinated, he was definitely looking for an escape route, so she decided to provide one. “He can cook like a master chef too?”
The tension drained out of him and he laughed. “I have no idea. Enough about me. I have to ask. Savannah?”
She grimaced, knowing exactly where the question was leading, where it always led when people heard her name. She sighed. “Yes, I was named after the city of Savannah and I do understand how ironic it is that I’m living here too.”
He smirked at her, barely keeping the humor inside. “You have to admit, it’s pretty funny. Did your mom fill out the birth certificate wrong?”
She glared at him. “Laugh it up. No, Mom named us after cities where our fathers were from. Told you she was crazy.”
He popped a piece if steak in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “It could have been worse. You could have been named Tuscaloosa.”
She busiest herself cutting more of her steak, avoiding his gaze. He burst out laughing. “You’re kidding, right?”
She blushed. “We call her Lucy. She’ll kick your ass if you call her Tuscaloosa. Trust me.”
He snorted. “Speaking of your sister, she’s back.”
“On the list of things not to talk about, she’s right up there.” She popped a piece of squash in her mouth and chewed.
“I can bare my soul but you can’t? That’s not fair.”
“What can I say? Life’s not fair. I never asked you to tell me your life story. I asked you why you cleaned your grill. You offered the rest.” She slipped a piece of her steak under the table and Sadie took it delicately, swallowing it without even chewing.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to feed her from the table.”
“Like you haven’t been doing that all night.” She grunted. “My sister is still trying to find herself. Unfortunately, she tends to find herself in the company of less than desirable men who have no jobs, take advantage of her, and, in general, are of no use to society. Otherwise known as losers. But she loves them. I blame mom. But don’t we always blame our parents?”
He pushed his clean plate back and leaned back in the chair, fiddling with the label on the beer bottle. “There’s an element of blame for our parents but what about personal responsibility? At some point, we have to grow up and make our own choices. Look at you.”
“Yeah, I gave up losers for Lent years ago, and I’m not even Catholic. Instead, I focus on abused and abandoned dogs, the losers of the canine family as some people would say.”
He tilted the bottle and took a long swallow as he considered her words. “Maybe they are the losers and maybe, like your sister, you’re trying to reform them like she tries to reform those men.”
She stared at him in dawning horror. “Oh, my God. Do you really think that?”
He burst out laughing. “How the hell should I know? I don’t know your sister. Maybe she just loves losers. You should see your face though. Priceless.”
She tossed her balled up napkin at him but laughed, Sadie jumping up to bark in between them, not sure of the game but wanting to be included. “You’re such a jerk. I’m so glad my family’s woes are amusing to you and your perfect little family.”
He wiped his eyes. “You’re kidding, right? I’ve told you about my dad. Well, my mom up and left with my sister as soon as I graduated high school, taking her to Hollywood so she could be a star. My sister, not my mother. Although, my mother, like my father, hitched her wagon to my sister and became the ultimate stage mom. Partying with my sister. Dating boys my sister’s age, well, over eighteen at least. And completely going wild. Now my sister is following in their footsteps and no one seems to give a shit.”
Savannah’s eyes widened at the vehemence in his tone, recognition dawning. “Lindsey Prosser-Hurst is your sister? Star of Life with Lindsey? Wow, I had no idea. She’s a...” Savannah’s voice trailed off as she caught sight of his face.
“A train wreck? Almost, but not quite.”
Savannah looked away, sucking her lower lip into her teeth. Her one vice. She loved gossip and his sister featured in many stories, especially one from last night. His chair legs slammed down on the patio blocks and he leaned forward, the bottle clinking on the glass table top.
“Savannah, what do you know?” His words were a question but the tone was all demand.
She twisted in her chair and grabbed her bag, digging around for her phone. She shifted around in her chair and scrolled through news alerts. Finally, she found the one she wanted and handed it across the table to him, hesitantly.
“I’m sorry,” she started but he held up a hand for silence as he scrolled through the story, his face growing more thunderous. After several long moments, he handed her the phone back and stood.
“Will you excuse me?”
Without waiting for a response, he stalked into the house, closing the slider door behind him firmly, leaving Savannah and Sadie outside.
“Well, that
went well.”
Dylan stalked into the kitchen, images from Savannah’s phone and that gossip site scrolling like a bad movie through his head. Hell, this was his sister for crying out loud. His baby sister. He grabbed and his phone and paced while it rang and rang. Finally, she picked up, and her voice sounded small and hesitant.
“Dylan?”
“Hey, Lindsey. How are things going?” He struggled to keep his words light when all he wanted to do was shout and reach through the phone and strangle her.
But she was his sister and she knew him well. “I guess you saw the report. Please tell me you didn’t see the pictures.”
“The ones of my baby sister flashing the crowd at a bar in Los Angeles? Yup, saw them all in full color. What the hell were you thinking?” His voice rose to a full shout and he thanked God he didn’t have any neighbors because for certain they’d be calling the cops on him.
“Oh, God, Dylan.” Her words quavered and she drew in a deep shuddering breath as if steeling herself for the confrontation. “I had hoped you wouldn’t see it. Look, it’s no big deal. It will blow over in a few days. No one will care.”
He paused at the tone of bitterness in her voice, the tinge of sadness that penetrated the haze of anger clouding his brain. “Lindsey, this shit stays with you forever. It never goes away. What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t thinking, all right? I was having fun with my friends, something you know nothing about, Mr. Responsible. We can’t all be like you, cool, calm, reserved. Perfect. Besides, this is all part of the plan.”
“The plan? What plan is this?”
She sighed, as if explaining things to a child. “Dylan, I star in a teenager show but that won’t last forever. No one sees me as an adult. Instead, I’m the bouncy, cute blond teenager that everyone loves. No one wants to cast me in any adult roles.”
