by Megan Ryder
Nick shook his head. “She wouldn’t have a chance. My wife, Gabrielle, works with a few local rescues. She says they do some transports up north for adoptions but it sure looks like she found her home. Who’s this?”
Dylan resigned himself to talking about dogs instead of business. “She was at the shelter, runs a local rescue I think. Anyway, she’s my dog sitter now. At least until I figure out what to do about the dog.”
“What do you mean what to do about the dog? You’re not going to keep her?”
“She’s so cute. How can you abandon her?”
The voices clamored around him until he jumped up and stepped out of the crowd. “My God, what are you, a bunch of girls? We’re men, ballplayers. I bring one little picture of a dog and you guys put on your skirts.”
The guys just laughed and scattered for their own pregame preparations, leaving Alex and Dylan alone.
Alex slumped back in the chair, munching on a handful of nuts. “So, you got a vet yet?”
Dylan snorted. “We’re not done yet?”
“Nah, man. If she was a stray, she needs to see a vet to make sure she’s healthy. I’ll give you the name of my vet. He comes to the house.”
Dylan stared at him. “You’re kidding, right? House calls?”
Alex grinned. “I can’t get a doc to come to the house but the vet will. Seriously, best thing for her. She won’t be stressed out by the barking dogs and a new place. Once she gets settled, Thor and I’ll come over for a play date.”
Cody sauntered out of the weight room and collapsed into one of chairs. “Once you two mother hens have stopped clucking about daycare, can we get back to the games?”
Dylan opened his mouth but a sharp look from Alex had him rethinking. He’d been wanting the kid to show interest in more than just his own game. Maybe this was a start. He turned on the tablet and Savannah’s face jumped out at him.
“Have mercy,” Cody breathed. “No wonder you can’t concentrate. But I’m liking the dog. Never figured you for a dog person, Professor.”
Dylan sucked in a breath but clicked over to the scouting report. “Let’s look at their lineup. Couple new guys at the top.”
A few other pitchers joined in and they discussed the hitters and strategy for pitching the upcoming series. Dylan slowly relaxed, the stress of the previous conversation drifting away as he settled into what he knew and loved – baseball.
Dylan lay on the bed, eyes closed, visualizing the lineup for evening game, going over players in his mind when his phone buzzed on the end table, jarring him out of his reverie. Without lifting his head, he reached for the phone and brought it to his face. An image of Sadie and Savannah filled the screen. Sadie looked like she was smiling and Savannah was laughing, her long hair blowing around her face. Savannah was leaning forward, hugging the dog, giving him a perfect shot straight down her shirt to her magnificent chest and he had been too long celibate to ignore the stirring the sight inspired in him. Damn, he shifted on the bed. She truly was one of the most sexy and comfortable with herself women he had met in probably forever.
Most of the women he was accustomed to tried desperately for his attention, for one night, a weekend, or more, for the status or the money. Never mind that only some players brought in the big salaries and Dylan’s was not the highest on the team. There was money, fame, attention and the women were whores for it, getting off on it. Dylan had learned a long time ago to watch out for the sharks in the pool.
That didn’t mean he never dipped his toe in. He had his fair share, especially when he was younger. But now, being the starting catcher meant more responsibility and obligations. He couldn’t just go off and do whatever he wanted. He owed the team his focus and chasing women pulled him from that job. To be honest, he was tired of being chased for what he was and who he was. No one saw beneath the catcher’s mask and the number. That was why he had decided to wait until after his playing days had ended, then he could find the right woman to settle down with. He wouldn’t have to worry that she would be attracted to his money or his status, and he wouldn’t be on the road, leaving her behind all the time. They would be together, a unit. A team. Something he rarely saw growing up, with his father on the road all the time, dragging his family behind him to whatever franchise bought his contract until his mother gave up and created her own life somewhere else, with Lindsey’s career as her new focus, away from baseball and life as a ballplayer’s wife. Away from Dylan and his father.
He looked at the message with the text. Missing Daddy. Thank God, he’d gotten that here and not at the stadium. The guys were already leaving him milk bones and dog toys in his locker, busting his ass about having a dog. And if they saw Savannah again, they’d be hounding him about her, begging for an introduction. As if he would introduce her to those horn dogs.
Savannah was a decent woman, honest and up front about who she was. She was refreshing in a way that he hadn’t seen in a long time. She said what she thought and did what she wanted and be damned of anyone else. He respected the hell out of her.
He wanted her even more. She haunted his dreams, especially with sexy text messages and images, constant reminders of who was sleeping in his bed at night. Every night, she sent him a picture of Sadie curled up with his pillow and he tossed and turned all night, knowing who was sleeping next to Sadie in his sheets and how badly he wanted to be there, wondering if Savannah’s skin was as smooth as it looked, how sensitive her breasts were, if she tasted as good as he had imagined. His cock hardened and he groaned, eyes closing at the image.
Suddenly, the phone buzzed in his hand and, without thinking, he clicked on and growled, “Yes?”
“Dylan? About time you picked up the phone. You’ve been avoiding me since the All-Star game.”
Dylan shot straight up in bed, all traces of arousal gone. His father’s cantankerous voice rumbled through the speaker, expressing his displeasure, sending Dylan back to elementary school in an instant, to a time when Dylan would have done anything for one decent word of praise, one word of acknowledgment. He was still waiting.
“Hey, Dad. Sorry. Been busy. You know how it goes.”
His father grunted. “Yeah, I’ve been following your team. What’s going on over there? Your pitching staff is all over the place. That young kid is a wild thing. You should be controlling him, not letting him tell you what to do. I saw him shaking you off. You need to show him who’s boss.”
Dylan sighed inaudibly. “Yes, Dad, I know. We’ve been changing his pitches a bit this year and he’s struggling. He’s also a young kid, kind of a hothead. We’re working on his focus.”
“Not very well from what I can see. And he’s the one they’re building the franchise around? Well, it’s their funeral. Thank goodness your contract is up this year. I was against the trade but you really didn’t have a choice in that I suppose. You need to set yourself up for a good contract and you’re not doing that right now. I was talking to the GM in Texas. They might have an opening next year.”
Dylan swung his legs around to the floor and pushed to his feet. God, he could only imagine what his father had said to the GM. He’d been on the receiving end of his father’s “help” before and it was always a disaster. “Dad, no, you’re not my agent. Please, just leave it alone. We’ll handle it our way.”
“I don’t see you doing anything right now except throwing your career away on a second-rate team. Your numbers suck. Time to just focus on yourself and forget about the lodestone around your neck.”
Dylan ran his fingers through his hair and began to pace the small hotel room. “Are you suggesting that I bail on my team and play only for myself? Isn’t that against everything you always preached when I was growing up?”
He swore he could almost hear his father shrug through the phone. “Hey, sometimes you have to cut your losses and the Knights are a losing bet. They have no money and no prospects. They’re a black hole for you to get lost in. Patterson should have never signed with them. Stupid move for a kid
of his talent, although, based on his numbers, maybe he doesn’t have that much talent.”
Heat burned in Dylan’s face, anger roiling just beneath the surface. “I happen the think the Knights have a good shot at the playoffs this year. We’re flirting with the top spot, only a couple of games out and it’s August. Plenty of time to make a surge. We’re coming together.”
“Or falling apart. If you haven’t gelled by now, you never will.” The words were blunt, matter of fact, and most likely true. “Dylan, you need to look out for number one. I can help you. Let me find you a good contract.”
Translation, “Let me find you a place that I can also tag along and hang my spikes on too.” Yeah, his father resented the hell out of never being a steady player with one team, never being the hall of famer that he had been expected to be. He never lived up to the promise and instead jumped from team to team as a journeyman, preaching it was about the team but, in reality, his father never knew how to be a team player. How ironic that he wanted to hitch his wagon to his son’s career, giving his father a second chance in the sport.
“I think I’ll let my agent handle this and if you get in the middle, I won’t sign that contract on principle. Got it, Dad?” Dylan made his voice as hard as a fastball to the inner thigh.
His father snarled. “Fine, but you’re making a mistake. You’re screwing up that team and your own career. Get your shit together or you won’t have any offers to refuse.”
The silence dragged for a moment and Dylan almost thought the call had disconnected but he heard his father breathing on the other end.
A sour taste filled Dylan’s mouth. “Is there anything else, dad?”
“Well, the broadcasting jobs have been a little sparse lately. Could you spare a little money for me, maybe see if the Knights need some color commentary?”
Just once, he’d like a call from his father with something other than insults, criticism, or requests for money. Even just one of those would be nice. But it was not to be today. At least he didn’t use the loyalty and family card this time.
“Sure, dad. Usual account?”
The phone call ended and Dylan breathed a sigh of relief. God, he hated those calls. He flicked the phone on again and the picture of Sadie and Savannah flashed him. A smile curved his face. Yeah. That was the image he needed to purge his brain of the ugliness of his father. And right there his arousal was pulsing beneath the surface.
Shit, he’d better get to the stadium and pull it together. While his father might be an ass, he was right about one thing. He had to get his shit together or risk a lousy contract, or worse, none at all.
The road trip ended in a draw, winning five games but ending on a heartbreaking extra inning loss that had Dylan and the rest of the team dragging their asses off the plane at four in the morning in Georgia. When they had landed, the humid July air hit them, sucking what little energy they had remaining, and everyone was just irritable and ornery. Sam Monteleone, the manager, lost his temper and banned the whole team from the stadium for the next day, or current day depending on how he wanted to look at it. They had an off day, which was sorely needed, and Dylan was relieved to head for home and not have to turn around in six hours to head back in.
He navigated the dark, mostly deserted roads back home, bone weary from the road trip yet finding the speedometer inching up past the speed limit in his haste to get home. As he pulled in the driveway and raised the garage door, he remembered Sadie and Savannah, and that he had forgotten to tell her when he was coming home. Damn. All he wanted to do was go into bed and sleep for eight hours. Now he’d have to make nice, converse with her, and be pleasant, something his teammates had been pretty clear on that he sucked at.
He let himself in the house quietly and flicked on the kitchen light. The normally clear granite counter was cluttered with dog treats, jars, keys, and papers. He gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to clear it off, just too tired to deal with it right now.
He tossed his keys in the bowl on the side table and trudged up the stairs to the second floor and his bedroom. The house was quiet, more quiet than he had expected. Maybe she had taken Sadie to her house. He stifled the stab of disappointment. He had wanted sleep, hadn’t he? He wouldn’t get it with a howling dog who wanted to go out and eat and do God knew what. He had spent the whole road trip hearing dog stories from his teammates, supposedly funny, but he wasn’t sure eating shoes, destroying property, and acting cute were anything he was ready for. Although, he’d already had his cute moment when Sadie had devoured his couch, much to the guffaws of the pitching staff in the dugout during the rain delay in Texas.
However, in those moments, he’d felt closer to his teammates, hearing how they had balance in their lives, home, families, and baseball. Hearing stories about coming home to someone waiting, or calls from the family, reminded him how empty his life had become, empty much like his house was. Getting the text messages and updates from Savannah everyday had somehow made the road trip a bit easier, more fun and he’d started to look forward to them. And when the plane had landed, he found himself speeding in the car to get home, the lights outside the house a beacon in the night, not lonely but welcoming. Funny how one dog changed all that for him already.
A snuffling noise from the bedroom made him slow down and he placed his suitcase in the hallway gently. He eased open the door and a night light that he didn’t remember having cast a glow on his bed and the woman sleeping in it. Two dogs piled on the bed around her, snoring loudly. Sadie curled around a pillow while another dog he didn’t recognize snuggled around Savannah, the way he wanted to. He hesitated. The second dog looked pretty big, almost as big as his teammate’s dog, Thor, and he didn’t relish that dog coming for his throat if startled.
Savannah shifted in the bed and moaned, a low deep sound in her throat and he groaned, the sound shooting straight to his groin. His sound woke up Sadie who lifted her head and spied him. She scrambled up and across the other dog, startling everyone on the bed, creating quite the commotion in her desire to get to Dylan. She launched herself off the bed and right onto his chest, knocking him into the wall, licking him and whining, her whole body wiggling in ecstasy. He tried vainly to hold on to her but she was moving too quickly and he slid down the wall until he was pressed against it, held prisoner by her excitement.
Deep low growls came from the bed and Dylan froze, the other dog coming back to his memory. He stared up at the bed to see the larger pit standing stiffly on the edge of the bed, Savannah’s arms wrapped around him, holding him in place. Her hair was tousled and her eyes warm and sleep-dazed, but she watched him warily as if uncertain as to what he would do next.
At least she hadn’t screamed. Not that it would have done her much good. His nearest neighbor was almost a half a mile away, this development never having been built after the housing crisis. She wouldn’t have been safer if she had turned the dogs loose. The bigger one, eyeing him suspiciously, was still and quiet, a low growl emitting from his chest once in a while.
Several moments passed and Sadie had collapsed in ecstasy while he rubbed her belly. “Sorry I didn’t call. I forgot.”
She smiled. “I knew you were coming home today. We watched the game and saw the extra innings. I tried to stay awake but we were so tired and the couch just wasn’t comfortable, not with two dogs and the large divot from Sadie’s feast.”
It took Dylan a moment, while Sadie’s cold, wet nose nudged his hand, reminding him of his duty to her belly. “Damn, I forgot to have that taken care of. I’ll do that tomorrow. We have an off day.”
The sheet slid off of Savannah, revealing a cotton tank top and smooth tanned skin, and Dylan’s mouth went immediately as dry as the rosin pitchers used for better grips and lust shot straight to his groin. He shifted, grateful for wearing khakis and not jeans, and stood, eyes fixed on that glimpse of skin revealed by the low riding sheet. Sadie butted her head against his leg, a paw touching him tentatively, then, with a loud canine sigh, she flipp
ed over and sat up. He took a step toward the bed and the dog growled. Savannah tapped it on the nose.
“Carl. Enough. He’s a friend.” She grabbed a leash from the bedside table and clicked it on the dog. “I’m going to let him come to you. He’s pretty calm. Just stay there, don’t move or say anything. Let him sniff you and decide if he wants to see you.”
“You know this is my house, right?”
She flashed a quick smile. “Not to him. Ready?”
Savannah gave Carl a shove and he heaved himself up with a groan and hopped off the bed. He ambled across the bedroom, staring at Dylan doubtfully. Sadie poked her head around Dylan and touched Carl’s nose. Carl’s tail wagged tentatively and he slowly sniffed Dylan’s leg.
Savannah slid out of bed, her long legs flashing quite a bit of toned flesh, but Dylan couldn’t appreciate it considering he had a hundred-pound dog with powerful jaws awfully close to his family jewels. He had a feeling this dog, who Savannah said was a gentle soul, was actually quite protective when he wanted to be.
“Hold your hand out, back of your hand toward him. Slowly. Talk to him quietly.”
Yeah right. “I need that hand for my job, lady. All of my fingers.”
“Carl won’t hurt you. Unless you try to hurt me. Now do it, or you won’t be getting any sleep tonight.”
Three sets of eyes studied him, two canine and one human, and he sighed and held out his hand. Carl nudged it then rubbed his head against it, letting it drift over the short fur and soft ears.
Savannah let out a soft exhale. “Okay, you’re in.”
Great. Finally, the canines were allowing him in his own house. When had his life gotten so turned around that he needed permission to go into his own bedroom, his own bed, by a dog who didn’t even live in his house? Sadie head butted him and he absently scratched her head.
“I blame you for this mess.” She yawned, a jaw cracking, gaping view of rows of teeth, then she laid down, head on his feet. He snorted. “You’re scary all right. Vicious.”