by Megan Ryder
He shoved the chair out of his way and pushed out of the office. Maybe some lifting would relieve his stress.
The game went badly, much as Dylan had feared. He and Cody were not even close to being on the same page. Hell, they weren’t even in the same book or section of the library. Cody barely made it into the fifth inning, when the other team cycled through the lineup, scoring six runs before the bullpen stopped the hemorrhaging. Patterson slammed his glove down in the dugout and proceeded to kick the shit out of the water cooler, creating quite a spectacle for the television crowd.
Dylan spared him a glance between hitters, gratified to see he wasn’t stupid enough to use his hands at least. Once the inning had finally ended and the team had dragged their tired asses off the field and into the dugout, Cody had disappeared down the tunnel to the locker room. Dylan wasn’t due up for a while so he followed him, motioning the coaching staff to stay behind.
He found the young pitcher in the showers, leaning against the wall, laying his head against the cold, wet tile. Dylan studied for a moment, not sure what he was going to say.
“Shitty game, huh?”
Cody jumped and whirled around. “Jesus, Prosser. A little warning would have been nice.” He deliberately turned his back and soaped up.
“How’s your arm?”
For a long moment, Dylan didn’t think the kid would respond then he shrugged. “Fine.”
Dylan grabbed his shoulder, fingers slipping a little on the wet skin, and tugged him around. “Tell me you didn’t hurt your hand or arm when you had your little tantrum for the whole world to see?”
Cody thrust his arm up. “It’s fine. I didn’t use my right arm at all, okay?”
Dylan dropped his hand and stepped back. “You may have acted stupid but at least you didn’t screw up your arm. Next time, throw your hissy fit in the tunnel where the kids and the fans can’t see you.”
He started to walk out when Cody grabbed his shirt, pulling him back. “Are you calling me a fucking child?”
Dylan was in his cleats and slipped a little, having less grip in his shoes than Cody in his bare feet. He turned, grabbed the kid’s forearm in one hand, and pinned him against the wall by the left shoulder. “I’m saying you acted like a child, but if the words fit, then wear them. At least you used your left arm. Maybe there’s hope for you. Now I have to change because you got me fucking wet and I have to finish the game and clean up your mess. And don’t wuss out and escape before the media gets back here. Man up and answer all the questions.”
He stalked from the showers and changed, leaving Cody behind.
After the embarrassing loss, Dylan fielded questions from the media, patiently answering every single stupid question, yet feeling like his skin was stretched too tight over his nerves. Cody, for his part, had manned up and was talking with the reporters, seeming more subdued than usual, even humble. Too bad it wouldn’t last. Finally, the final question had been asked and the last reporter had left the locker room. Dylan made the long slow walk out to his car, feeling the strain of the season on his knees and back. He couldn’t wait to get home and sleep for several hours and then do it all over again tomorrow. Rinse and repeat.
His SUV was the last one in the lot. He nodded to the security guard and drove out into the hot, dark night. Thirty minutes later, his headlights flashed on his house, and memory flooded back. The dog. Damn. He had forgotten all about it. Her. Whatever. Shit. He glanced at the dashboard clock.
He exited and ran inside, flicking on the lights as he entered the kitchen area. The door to the bathroom had a hole in the bottom of it, pieces of wood littering the floor around it. He followed the trail of debris into the living room. A sea of foam and stuffing littered the room and, laying on one of his shirts in the middle of it, looking miserable, was the little gray dog.
As soon as she saw him, she bolted to her feet and came right over to him, her entire body wiggling from side to side.
“What the hell happened here?” The words burst out of his mouth and the dog froze. She immediately crouched on the floor, belly crawling to him as if begging forgiveness. She licked his foot once and stared up at him pleadingly from the floor.
He sighed, anger fleeing him as quickly as it had come. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket along with a business card, trying not to think about the sexy woman on the other end of the phone line.
“Savannah Monroe? Dylan Prosser. We met earlier today at the shelter? Sorry it’s so late but I need you.”
Her sleepy voice hit him like a sucker punch in the groin and all he could picture was her in bed. Damn. Sex was not a complication he needed, not with a destructive dog, a team that was imploding, and a career that was on the knife edge. His body, unfortunately, had other ideas. The thought of her long legs in those jean shorts wrapped around his hips was almost more than he could take.
He’d never been a fan of groupies on the road, like some of the other young guys. There were always women looking to score with hot ballplayers, and even more looking for the paycheck that came along with it. He didn’t need or want the strings that came with that kind of sex, and he was never the big payoff kind of player that the girls went for, so he was able to fly under the radar. He’d had his share of women if he wanted them but he’d been so focused on getting the Knights and Cody Patterson on track, he’d neglected this own urges.
Savannah Monroe was a mighty sin on two legs and he was done doing penance.
Chapter Four
When one’s phone rang in the middle of the night and a sexy man’s voice as deep as fine swiss chocolate said he needed you, well, life couldn’t get much better. Unfortunately for Savannah, the only time situations like that ever happened for her was when the sinfully sexy man only needed her for her mad canine skills and not her bedroom skills.
Savannah surveyed the destroyed couch, the stuffing strewn around the mostly empty room and the sexy man sitting in the only place not chewed, head in one hand, the culprit laying at his feet, gazing up at him mournfully. His other hand dangled down, resting on the gray head, providing comfort to the sad pup, although she wasn’t sure he even knew that he was doing it.
“I told you this wouldn’t work out. I’m gone too much and for too long. I won’t tie her up outside. That’s criminal.”
Savannah smothered a smile. At least he wasn’t a total ass. “Did you expect her to be the perfect pooch on day one? She needs training and definitely more attention. But we can figure this out.”
She walked over to the couch and gingerly sat on the middle cushion, settling into the gnawed region, just the perfect size for her butt. The dog peered around his leg and stared over at her suspiciously, as if unsure if she’d have to share Dylan’s attention. When Savannah made no further moves, the dog leaned against his leg again, nudging his hand for attention. Absently his hand stroked her head and Savannah wondered how it would feel against her own skin, jealous, for the first time, of a dog.
“How much for you to stay here and take care of her? Or take her to your place?”
He sounded tired and she felt the urge to brush her hands against his forehead, again, another foreign concept. She wasn’t used to going to strange men’s homes in the middle of the night, even for a canine emergency and then feeling this overwhelming desire to comfort him, and more. Nice to know her lady parts hadn’t completely gone to sleep in the few years since she’d had the time or inclination to use them. But this wasn’t the time or place for that. And once his words registered, dollar signs flashed in her brain, along with all kinds of warnings.
“I never bring client’s dogs to my house. Especially a new dog like yours. By the way, what did you name her anyway?”
He glanced down. “I haven’t gotten around to it yet. Any suggestions?”
She shook her head. “You need to figure that out yourself. Try different names on, see what she responds to. Anyway, I can come by a couple of times a day and walk her.”
He was already shaking his
head. “I have a seven-day road trip. You saw how she was and I was only gone ten hours. No, someone needs to stay here with her. You do training too right? Can I pay you to stay here and to train her? It’s a way to get started on helping her find a new home.”
“You really don’t plan to keep her?”
He gestured around him at the showroom quality house that was clearly the model house for the development and not something he had designed. “Do I look like I have the lifestyle for a dog? I wouldn’t even have a fish right now. Besides, the chances of me being in Georgia after this season are circling the drain. I’ll foster the dog or whatever it is you called it until you can find a suitable home. Meanwhile, you promised to do anything to help me if I kept her.”
“But you’re not keeping her.”
“I’m keeping her for now. Even I’m not that much of a monster to dump her. And I need you. I don’t have the lifestyle for a dog.”
There were those words again. Words that always got Savannah in trouble. First it was her family needing her, then stray dogs, then loser men. Now it was this sexy man who seemed more lonely than anyone she had ever met before. He was more dangerous to her than any stray she had ever collected before. If she was smart, she’d say no thanks and run screaming from the house. Instead, she quoted a price almost double any other pet sitting service in the area and held her breath.
“Done.” He never even blinked.
“That’s for the dog sitting. Training will be extra.”
“Fine.”
Her mind spinning from the possibilities. “I need to still be working on my rescue and I have my work too.”
For the first time, he frowned. “What else do you do?”
“I conduct dog training programs around the area and pet sitting. I have to pay the bills somehow. Rescue isn’t cheap.”
He thought for a moment then nodded. “As long as you can take care of her and this never happens again. I don’t want to have to completely redo the interior of this brand-new house before I sell it.”
“No problem.” Almost giddy at the thought of extra steady income, she barely restrained herself from rubbing her hands together. Now she just had to keep her hands to herself and not on him.
“I’ll get you a key tomorrow.” He stood up abruptly, wiping his hands on his slacks.
The words sunk in. “You really trust me that much?”
“Shouldn’t I? Isn’t it a little late to be asking? Anyway, I don’t have much so go for it. Now, can you be here by nine? I have a day game and I need to be at the stadium by ten.”
She struggled to her feet. “Um, sure. I can do that. When do you leave on the road trip?”
“Right after the game.” He paused. “Maybe be here earlier than that so we can go over a few other things.”
She mentally groaned. Mornings were so not her thing. She reviewed her schedule. Randy and Barb were coming in with the transport up north for the dogs. They wouldn’t be in until eleven so she could have plenty of time to deal with Dylan, settle his unnamed pup, and gather the other dogs for transport.
She nodded. “I can do that.”
“Excellent. See you tomorrow.” He held out his hand and she took it in hers, the calluses on his fingers caressing her skin. She shivered at the roughness, thinking how they would feel stroking along her skin. Down girl. Train the dog, not the man.
She beat a hasty retreat before she rolled over and begged him to scratch her belly.
Dylan spent the rest of the night cleaning couch stuffing and wood from the broken door, trying to get his mind off Savannah. He hadn’t really expected her to just show up at his house at midnight and he thought she might have done it for him. But the way she had knelt and loved on the dog as soon as she had walked in, as if he barely existed, was a major blow to his ego. If she could corral that damn dog, she could ignore him all night long.
Except there was a side of him that wanted her to touch him like she rubbed the dog, running her fingers through the short fur, dragging her nails along the skin. The idea that Savannah hadn’t even thought twice about coming over to a stranger’s house because of a dog showed how much she cared and he thought that was pretty freaking incredible. Or insane. The dog’s eyes had almost rolled back in ecstasy and somehow, he had been able to hide his sudden raging lust, especially when she turned her head and looked up at him, at just the right angle to get an eyeful. Fortunately, a pillow had been close by and he had grabbed it as camouflage. Sitting on the couch next to her had been torture. He’d had to pet the dog to keep from reaching for her, to see if her skin was as soft as he’d imagined. He hadn’t had such a case of instant lust since high school and he blamed those damned jean shorts, or his long drought.
Once he’d cleaned up the mess, he’d tried to go to bed in the only bed in the house, but thoughts of Savannah sleeping in it only tormented him. Not to mention the howling dog from downstairs. Finally, around two o’clock, he stumbled downstairs to see the dog sitting in the middle of the kitchen, her head thrown up for another howl.
“Enough.” He tried to infuse his voice with authority but it only sounded tired to him. She didn’t seem to care. She wiggled her butt and crossed the room, skidding a little on the tile floor.
He squatted down to pet her. “I can’t keep calling you dog, or so Savannah says.” Her gray head cocked to the side as she studied him. “How about Ruth? I mean, he was one of the greatest hitters of all time and those are some pretty big shoes to fill.”
She looked away, unimpressed with the name. Okay, well maybe not Ruth. “Jackie? Mickey? Yogi?” She barely spared him a glance, laying down and resting her head on his thigh. “No player names. How about Homer? Slugger? Maybe not baseball either.”
He sat back on the cold floor and studied her, his sister’s words prodding at the back of his mind. “That’s not happening. I’m not naming you that so you can forget it.” She looked up at him, her liquid brown eyes soft and trusting. Damn.
He couldn’t do it. Naming her something so personal would bond them on a level closer than he was capable of dealing with right now. If he named her, if he kept her, that would be one more thing he’d have tying him down, distracting him from his job. One more thing to disappoint, like he’d disappointed everyone else in his life. Eventually, he’d abandon her like his first dog, letting her down too. But there was something about her and the name just rolled off his tongue, against his will.
“Sadie.” He barely whispered the word but her head whipped up and she pierced him with her stare, her tail thumping the floor rapidly.
He sighed. “Sadie it is. Just don’t break my heart, darlin’, like your namesake.”
The morning sun streamed in and a loud snoring woke Dylan. He hadn’t had a roommate on the road since the minor leagues so who the hell was snoring? He opened one eye, cautiously, and got an eyeful of wet dog nose and flapping jowl. He groaned and rolled on his back.
“So much for that expensive dog bed I bought you.” He pushed at her and she groaned, protesting the movement. “If you wanted to sleep with me, don’t wreck the house next time.”
He rolled out of bed and headed for the shower. An hour or so later and he was dressed and prepared for the day, sitting at the table working on a list when Savannah rang the doorbell. Sadie barked, the first time he had heard that and she ducked, as if expected him to hit her. He stifled his words, telling her to stop, and instead opened the front door.
Savannah stood on the stoop, a t-shirt proclaiming that she worked hard so her dog could live right stretched tight across her chest. Her Suburban was parked in the driveway and four barking dogs pressed up against the windows clawing and barking to get out.
“I can’t stay long. I can’t leave them in the car. It’s too hot.”
He frowned. “We agreed to meet at nine.”
She plunged her hands into her hips. “I know. My transport is coming in early and these guys have to get on it. If they don’t, I can’t rescue the three from yesterday.
If you had a fenced in yard, I’d turn them loose for a few minutes.”
“They’re not coming in the house.”
She scowled, looking irritated. “I didn’t ask to bring them in your showroom house, Dylan. I’m trying to explain why I can’t stay.”
He grumbled under his breath, glancing at his watch. Sadie poked her head out from under his legs and peered up at Savannah, who immediately knelt and began stroking her face. Dylan groaned and Savannah glanced up, right at groin level. He shifted slightly to the left, moving out of range.
“What are you going to do about Sadie?”
“Sadie? Oh, you named her! That’s a perfect name. I love it.” Sadie gave her a big wet kiss and Dylan just shook his head.
“Look, I have lists of things that you need to know about the house. Alarms, locks, codes. I’m not comfortable with this. I don’t have time to show you everything.”
Savannah got to her feet and grabbed the papers. “Three pages. Wow, you are thorough. Most of my clients barely remember to leave the dog food. Look, Dylan. I’ve got this. I do this all the time. Sadie will be fine.”
“I’m not worried about Sadie. I’m worried about the damned house. I know you can handle her. I need this house to be in top shape so I can sell it once the season ends.”
She frowned and peered around the corner down the hallway. “Are you moving? It’s barely lived in now. I can’t imagine there’d be a problem selling it.”
“My contract is up at the end of the season and I doubt the Knights will re-sign me. So yes, I’ll be moving somewhere. But I can’t have a repeat of last night. That furniture was here from the model home. We’ve already destroyed the couch. Please keep the damage to a minimum.”
She snapped a salute. “Aye-aye, sir. Sadie and I will be fine.”
He turned to head back inside, not entirely convinced but having to go with it but her voice stopped him. “Oh, one more thing. I may have to bring my other dog here. I don’t have anyone to watch him and he’s really good and I think it would be really good for Sadie, to learn how to act from another dog.”