by Tricia Lynne
“Spill it, Costello.”
I was never going to live this down. “I, uh...might have gotten arrested at a pet shop.”
Brody choked. Almost full-on spluttered coffee on me. “You did what, now?”
“It’s no big deal. I got belligerent with an owner, who called the cops. They cuffed me, but they didn’t process me or anything. After one glance at my driver’s license, they cut me loose.” One of the perks of being Billy Costello’s kid.
“It’s no big deal?” The way his eyes widened reminded me of a cartoon character.
“Anyhow, I didn’t get much info. Mill circles are incredibly tight lipped. And I’m fairly sure my picture is behind the register at most pet shops now.” I tried not to grin but failed. Truth was, this was why I needed Brody’s help. I needed someone on the ground who wasn’t affiliated with dogs or dog rescue like I was. Brody was that person, and the fact that he was a football player in a football town would go a lot further than some crazed dog trainer screaming obscenities.
While he held up a finger, amusement danced over his features. “I...want to revisit this. Particularly the part about you in handcuffs. But I don’t see how that rolls into finding the mill? I get we can narrow it by area code. I don’t mean to piss on your boots, but are we supposed to just drive around and hope we get lucky?”
“Mmm, I’ve thought about that. I mapped where each of the dogs was found after I left your place. They’ve all been within about twenty miles of each other. If I can narrow it down further, we can place our own free-to-a-good-home ad.”
“That’s smart. Find out where they’re selling most of their puppies and then bring them to us. What can I do to help?” The excitement on his face was pure and bright, contagious.
Yet, my gaze shifted to the woman who’d stopped behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, Brody. I thought you could use a refill.” As the barista set another to-go cup in front of him, I didn’t miss how she brushed his back with, um...all of her, really. “Oh em gee, is this your dog? Why haven’t you brought him before now? Hashtag whosagooddoggie.”
Seriously? Have you been under a rock? Although, she didn’t particularly seem the type who diligently watched the five o’clock news. She had spray-tanned giraffe-length legs she used to great effect when she bent to greet CC, and as far as she was concerned, I didn’t exist. Hand to God, I strained my macular nerves with my eye roll.
An amused expression crossed Brody’s face.
“What’s his name? Can I pet him?”
CC sat up, scooting back under the table.
“It’s a she, and she’s not crazy about strangers. Best give her some time. She’s still learning to trust people.”
The barista jerked her hand back. “Oh, okay. Well, just let me know if you need anything else.”
I was pleased to see him reading his dog’s body language. He hadn’t hesitated to tell the woman no. Actually, he’d surprised me a lot today. Particularly his empathy when I talked about Joker and the way he’d hinted at having his own issues with the game he played. He was kind and thoughtful, unfailingly sweet and so concerned he would screw up with CC. Surprisingly easy to blush when he got nervous or felt like he was out of his element. How fricking adorable was that?
Then, there was his research. He truly wanted to help any way he could. Most people got a glimpse into puppy mills and decided it was easier to write checks to soothe their conscience than to go down the rabbit hole. Experience told me that would be when he would bail—when things got hard and hands started to get dirty.
“Actually, you forgot to bring my friend another flat white.” Brody’s voice cut through. “Could you get her another, too?”
The woman’s eyes bulged.
That...did not make things any easier for me at the moment. Letting Miss Handsy know that she was being rude? My pink parts gave an involuntary shiver and I could have climbed him right then.
I sent the barista a completely petty grin. “In a to-go cup, please.” Because this morning had been way too revealing. I already had a hard enough time distracting myself from all the tingle feels I had about this man.
Leaning forward, a grin crept over his face as he fished his wallet out of his back pocket, producing a twenty. He slid the wallet back in and I’d never wanted to be a beat-up piece of leather so much in my life.
Mercy.
Clearing my throat, I forced myself to stop thirsting. “I have to get going, but let me talk to my dog peeps to see if they can help me send messages and make calls. You can do some of that if you want. Oh, and CC’s not reactive with other dogs, which is a very good thing given her breed. I do think she should spend some time with a group of dogs, to see how she does. My Sunday playgroup meets at that park around nine in the morning. If you’re free, I could meet you around eight thirty and arrange for the other folks to trickle in.”
“Wait. You’re leaving already? I have questions about commands and stuff. And handcuffs.” The puppy dog eyes he gave me were totally by design. Bastard.
“Sorry, big man. You think you’re all I’ve got to do today? I have a life.” Though, not much of one.
He arched a sexy eyebrow. Question: When the hell did eyebrows get sexy? Answer: Brody Shaw. “I’d love nothing more than for me to be the only thing you do today.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Until his knee brushed mine under the table and I jumped like a schoolgirl with a crush. Seeing my reaction, he decided to let it linger. Lord help me. “Clever, Shaw. You give good...” Leaning forward, I let myself flirt even though I knew I shouldn’t, shifting my knee to brush the inside of his thigh. Now it was his turn to jump. “...innuendo, I’ll give you that much.”
The barista dropped off our coffees without looking at me. I said thank you anyway as she glanced at Brody over her shoulder. The fact that he ignored her when she did it...yeah, it was time to go.
“But, I’m not worried about you, Shaw. Something tells me you’ve got enough women lining up to crawl into your bed to last your lifetime. You don’t need me to be one of them.”
“You think I sleep around.”
I gave him the duh look. “Brody, the night you asked for my number, I watched you leave with some woman you hadn’t come in with hanging all over you.”
I thought I saw a quick flash of disappointment. “People grow up, Lil.”
I watched him, weighed his words. Was I selling the man short? Maybe, but I’d rather sell him short than give him enough rope to hang me with. Standing a bit slower than I should have, I enjoyed watching him track my movement while Jet and Mack got to their feet. “You can call me with your questions. I’ll text you some info about taking private lessons...with Rob. He’s our doggie basics instructor.”
Brody’s playful grin returned along with hooded eyes. “What, you mean my private lessons won’t be with you?”
“Or, if you’d rather, he has a group class starting soon. I hear tell groups might be your thing, Shaw.” I threw a wink in with the comment.
He barked out a laugh, tipped his head in a nod of defeat. “Round two to Ms. Costello. Two women brushing me off in one day. I know exactly where Jet learned it.”
I wondered about the whole fantasy suite thing and how much was true. The evidence was pretty damning, yet the man I’d spent this morning with made me want to hear Brody’s side of the story. It made me wish he didn’t play football and all that came with it.
Still, curious kitties...besides, I really didn’t need to like this guy any more than I already did.
Patting her head, I bent to whisper to CC loud enough for Brody to hear. “You tell him, girl. If he can’t run with the big dogs and all that.”
On that note, Jet and I sauntered off.
It might have had the desired effect, too.
If Mack hadn’t stopped to whiz on a patch of grass as
we walked away.
* * *
Later that day, I was in the checkout line at the grocery store flipping through the latest edition of Dallas Life & Style when I came across their “Spotted” column. It was a people-around-Dallas thing, meant to highlight where to see and be seen.
The photo captions always read similarly. Spotted: Neiman’s flagship store—oil heiress Bitsy Anderson seen leaving the Zodiac Room with party girl and former college roommate Blake Wyatt.
Letting my gaze wander, I picked up on a familiar face. Spotted: Midnight Rambler—Baylor Fairchild, recently divorced heir to the Fairchild cattle fortune—seen making out with It Girl Mercedes Hanes before leaving with unidentified redhead.
I huffed a laugh. I’d known Baylor when we were kids. Once a dog, always a dog. Actually, that was insulting to dogs.
Spotted: Bourbon & Banter—tarnished golden boy Brody Shaw seen leaving with unidentified blondes under each arm. Things appeared cozy as the threesome shared an Uber to Brody’s home north of the city last Saturday.
It was Brody, all right. Leaving a bar with a pair of stunning women. The photo was split. In the second picture he and both women were getting out of a car in front of his apartment building.
I felt the lines in my forehead wrinkle.
Damn it. He’s exactly the guy I think he is. The quintessential baller and all that came with it.
After putting my groceries away, I took the dogs out to the backyard and curled up in my hammock with my Kindle, but I couldn’t concentrate on what I was reading. Honestly, I didn’t know why the magazine bugged me. It wasn’t anything I didn’t already know about football players. It was a hot-tempered sport played by overindulged men, and it allowed them access to a way of life I wanted no part of.
I loved my daddy, but life with him hadn’t been easy. He was on the road half the year, cheating on my mother with God knew how many women and pissing his money away at some poker game or another. When he was home, he could be the doting father and husband, or the angry drunk who put his fist through a plateglass window because he’d run out of the two Vs—Vicodin and vodka. All retirement did was take away the women and the money, leaving Billy to sink deeper in on himself until I didn’t recognize him anymore.
Sadly, the football hero facet of my father was also the very reason Brody would likely understand me. He could be someone I could talk to, but never someone I’d allow myself to depend on.
Catch-22 at its finest.
I needed to be smart about Brody Shaw because we had that connection. Not just the attraction and chemistry, or our shared love of all things Dean Winchester. We had the capability to understand each other on a level that had shaped us as people. As much as I might like to find out how deep that connection went, I wasn’t about to put up with cheating or volatility the way my mother and I had again. I could be friends with Brody, partners in this mill search, even have a harmless flirt, but any secret thoughts I’d entertained about letting it go further died in the checkout line at the grocery store when I thought about my mom screaming at my dad and my dad trashing the house.
Jet pushed her head under my hand, and I gave her an ear scratch followed by a scratch on Mack’s wiggly rump.
No, guys like Brody Shaw were like rescue dogs: you could only count on them being there for so long. Whatever you do, don’t let yourself get attached. Because they always move on soon enough.
Chapter Eight
“Resistance is futile.” —Borg
Brody
Eight o’clock Sunday morning, CC and I pushed open the chain-link door at the park. Lily was already inside, and I could see Mack hauling ass to the gate as quickly as his short little legs would carry him to see his best girl. “Hey, buddy. Did you miss CC? You’ve got it bad, don’t you?” I squatted down to unclip CC’s leash and rub Mack’s head.
Lily came out from behind a pile of dirt and several straw bales with Jet in tow and smiled.
“It’s okay, pally,” I whispered to Mack. “I know exactly how you feel.”
After I stood, CC trotted by Lil to get a head pat before she commenced her perimeter check and ignored Mack as best she could.
“Morning,” I called. “What’s with all the construction?”
“There’s an Earthdog trial next weekend.”
“What’s Earthdog?”
“It’s generally for smaller dogs. Terriers, dachshunds. Dogs bred to hunt rodents. They dig tunnels underground and place rats in ventilated tubes for the dogs to hunt. It plays on their natural instinct to both hunt and dig.”
“Huh. Never heard of such a thing.”
Lily smiled. “Next month we’re having a Lure-Coursing trial. It’s part of the reason the center has this land, to do some of the dog sports better suited to outdoors. The owner is talking about putting in an above ground pool for DockDogs events, too.” Walking into the sun, she shielded her eyes. “How did CC’s class evaluation go?”
I literally felt my chest puff up. “She’s a star pupil.”
“Rob said she tested out of the beginning training class and is going into manners building class instead. That’s awesome, Brody.”
The pride I felt... I was turning into a dog dad and I didn’t even care. I understood on a whole new level why dog people got as excited to show off pictures of their pooches as most parents did of their kids. “She’s so smart, Lil. He ran her through some of the baby agility equipment, and after we finish up this class, we’re going to start agility for beginners.”
Lil’s grin was a mile wide and sly as hell.
“What? What’s that look about?”
She tried to school her face. “Nothing.”
“No, tell me.”
“I’m just really glad that you and CC are finding your normal, is all. That you’ve turned into a hard-core dog lover. It’s the best part for me—when someone gets it and becomes a dog person for life. You are such a dog dad. Like, soccer level dog dad. When are you getting your minivan and Who Rescued Who sticker?”
I felt my cheeks turn pink. “Pfft. Like I’d do that. I’m a truck guy.” Shooting her a slightly embarrassed smile, I mumbled, “Besides, I’ve already put the sticker on my truck.”
Lil busted out laughing and the sound was a shot of adrenaline straight down my spine and into my boxer briefs.
“I’d suggest before you start her in agility that you get her Canine Good Citizens certification,” Lily added. “Because she’s a Cane Corso, when you tell people she has her CGC title, it can go a long way to change how people see her and treat her.”
“Hmm. Rob mentioned that, too. I’ll check into it. Hey, you gotta see this picture I took of her sleeping on the couch.” I pulled my phone from my back pocket and started scrolling through pictures as my girl finished her perimeter check and wandered back up to sit on top of my foot.
“She was just sleeping like this. With her head on a pillow on the floor, and her ass on the couch.”
Lily chuckled as she scratched CC’s head. “Silly girl, how’d you even get into that position?” She leaned in closer as I scrolled through pictures, and the smell of her shampoo drifted to my nose. She was so close. All soft curves, confidence, and strength. Turning my head, I took her in. She was so totally at ease, content. In her element and so beautiful like that. Whether she realized it or not, Lily dropped her guard a little when she was with dogs. I understood why she called working with them her sanctuary. It was so fucking alluring, that little crack in the shell. It made me want to continue to chip away at it, to let her behind my own curtain. Lily would understand more about the ups and downs of life as a football player better than any other woman could—how this life weighed on me and played with my head.
Then, I thought about my last girlfriend and how completely blind I’d been. I’d trusted that she wanted me for me instead of what I could give her. It was the first and last ti
me I made that mistake. Once bitten, twice shy and all that. Besides, I had an endgame and it wasn’t getting myself traded to another team.
When the gate slammed closed behind us, CC startled, and I went on high alert. It was time to stop mooning over what I couldn’t have and meet some more dogs.
“One of us. One of us,” a short blonde in a Nike jacket chanted as Lily continued to flip through pictures of CC. A light gray Miniature Schnauzer sniffed around Lily’s ankles.
“I guess so,” I said through a crooked grin.
“How’s she doing?” the blonde asked Lil.
CC watched the new dog, but didn’t move away from me.
“Cautious,” Lily answered. “She’s taking her time, but you can see the wheels turning. She wants to check Jasmine out.”
Finally, my girl got up and went to sniff the Schnauzer’s rear.
“Brody, this is Kate.” Lily gestured to the blonde. “Jasmine’s indifferent to other dogs so we’re starting with her.” For the most part, the small silver dog ignored CC, but I couldn’t help it. I was tense all over. CC could’ve easily made a snack out of the little dog if she wanted to.
“She’s quite curious.” Kate said. “Confidence will come, don’t you think?”
Lily nodded, but never stopped watching CC. “Brody, you need to relax. If you relax, CC will, too.”
Making a physical effort, I twisted my neck to each side to stretch out the tension just as the gate slammed again.
A short lady with sandy blond hair and kind eyes wearing a T-shirt with dogs doing yoga walked up next to me. “Darlin’ it’s going to be fine. Let Lily work her magic.”
“Ahh, sorry. I don’t have a lot of experience with dogs and it’s all making me nervous.”
“Naturally.” Her smile was soothing. “I imagine it would be much the same if any of us were to step on the football field with you. My goodness, you’re handsome up close. The TV doesn’t do you justice at all. And so big. Lily, did you see how large this boy is? What size shoe do you wear? I’m Carrie, by the way.” She batted her lashes, putting a hand on my biceps. “Oh my, Lily. Have you felt these? They’re so firm. Arm porn, isn’t that what you girls call it? Brody’s got the arm porn.”
