by Andrews, Amy
Ryder blinked. The damn animal had more game than him.
“Are you sure?” She leaned forward to drop some kisses between Tiny’s eyes, pushing his snout even farther into the cushioned heaven between her breasts. “He seems very placid.”
Tiny gave an ecstatic little shiver, his tail a blur as it dusted the floor. “Trust me. He’s the antichrist.”
“Oh, I don’t believe that,” she said to Tiny, her voice light and teasing, her mouth a cute little moue. “Look how sweet and well-behaved he is. Good boy.” She kissed him again. “Good boy.”
Ryder would be sweet and well-behaved if Juliet called him a good boy while cradling his head between her breasts.
Hell, he’d roll over and play dead if she wanted.
“You’re putty in my hands, aren’t you, big guy?”
Ryder wondered how wrong it was on a scale of one to ten to be turned on by a woman baby-talking a dog. “He’s faking it.”
Tiny had been the same with Valerie. Tiny was a flirt. A complete and utter hound dog!
“Oh no.” Her faux gasp was for Tiny’s benefit. “Is that true?”
Tiny whined and trembled and somehow managed to look mortally wounded that his integrity had been called into question. “I didn’t think so.” She gave his ears a tweak before standing back and saying, “Lie down.”
Tiny sunk gracefully to the floor, his front legs extended before him, his head cocked, his ears stiffly to attention as if he lived to do her bidding. Ryder rolled his eyes.
She raised her gaze to him, lifting an eyebrow. “Well…dog obedience classes can be a good idea for inexperienced handlers as well.” Ryder was left in no doubt who Juliet thought was the problem child in the relationship. “How old is he?”
“Just over twelve months apparently.”
“Oh, he’s a puppy!” Tiny scored a rub just behind his ear with her foot, collapsing fully against the concrete as his hind leg twitched in ecstasy. “Oh you like that don’t you, big boy?” Juliet murmured, shifting slightly so she could rub lower, his hind leg cycling when she reached his belly.
Ryder’s leg almost went out in sympathy.
Eventually she returned her attention back to Ryder and their conversation. “What you need is puppy preschool.”
What Ryder needed was a cold shower.
“I was thinking something more along the lines of an exorcist?”
She laughed and it was rich and full bodied and for a crazy moment the ground seemed to shift under Ryder’s feet. “Well, let’s start with the basics before we try any of the dark arts, huh? You’re in luck, we have a new class starting tomorrow night at the off-leash park on the headland.”
Tuesday nights he went to the Dollywood night at The Cock and Bull. Without fail. There was karaoke as well as a mechanical bull, both of which he was always up for. And a drag show.
A lot of people from his hometown might not have approved, but Ryder didn’t give a fuck. It was always an awesome night and being one of the few straight guys in a club full of mostly straight women wasn’t any hardship.
But he didn’t have to think twice about ditching it.
Juliet removed her foot and trekked back behind the counter, shutting the flap behind her. Tiny lifted his head, lumbering into a sitting position, turning accusing eyes on Ryder as if he’d cut Tiny off from his dealer.
“Let me get some details.”
She entered Ryder’s information into the computer. He loved that she genuinely didn’t seem to know who he was. He’d been out with women before who’d been more interested in the game and his status and bagging someone famous than what he had to offer.
He didn’t blame them for that. Hell, he’d been a more-than-willing participant in fulfilling that kind of fantasy. But every now and then it was nice to date a woman who saw beyond the jersey.
And he definitely planned on asking Juliet out.
She rattled off the class particulars—one night a week for six weeks. Something Ryder was prepared to commit to even though he was only having Tiny temporarily, especially when she told him she was the instructor.
The little dog in the tub whined behind her for attention. Ryder didn’t blame it one little bit.
“Okay, I gotta get back to Bessie.” She skewered the pen she’d been using through her crazy half-fallen-down up-do at the back of her head and handed over a flyer with the location and other details.
Ryder took it, belatedly realising he was going to have to go back outside with an out-of-control dog who preferred the company of women.
“Cheer up.” Her grin broke into his trepidation. “It could be worse.”
Ryder wasn’t sure how it could possibly be worse. “Oh yeah? How?”
“He could have been one of those Great Danes that slobber.”
Ryder looked at Tiny, who had a thin string of drool leaving the corner of his mouth heading south toward the floor. Great.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night?”
Ryder smiled. “I’ll be there with bells on.”
She returned his smile with a glint in her eyes that was decidedly not girl next door.
It couldn’t come soon enough.
…
Juliet stared after the long, tall streak of cowboy with the fudge brownie eyes. She’d sworn off men for the last seven months, determined not to be distracted from her goal of travelling to Italy in two months’ time. Her airfare was booked and nothing was stopping her this time.
Definitely not a man.
But seven months was a long time for someone who liked sex as much as Juliet. She may have been a slow starter due to her mother’s illness, but she’d caught up fast and she was definitely overdue an indulgence.
She shook her head to halt a bunch of inappropriate, carnal thoughts. Stop it. Men like Ryder Davis—god even his name made her horny—didn’t attend dog obedience. She’d run enough classes since starting at the shelter to know that the only men who attended puppy obedience were either harassed fathers or middle-aged married guys. Or gay. Ryder may be desperate right now, but she hadn’t reached the grand age of twenty-five without knowing what men said and what they did were often two very different things.
She’d learned that lesson the hard way.
Sure, he’d seemed interested in her. But she’d bet her one-way ticket to Rome that interested was Ryder Davis’s permanent state of being. He wouldn’t show. He’d probably get a better offer and decide a recalcitrant dog was a small price to pay for a pretty face. It wasn’t like the area was lacking in single, sun-bleached blondes. Or that she’d been knocking men back with sticks during her self-imposed celibacy.
He wouldn’t show.
She needed to get the possibility out of her head right this minute. She’d always had incredibly shitty luck, why would it change now? But a little voice persisted. What if he did show?
Maybe it’d be a sign from the universe? And she’d hate to piss off the universe…
Chapter Two
Ryder woke just before his alarm the next morning at a few minutes to five. He didn’t know why he even bothered to set the bloody thing. His body clock was a finely-honed machine after eighteen years of being a farm kid. Rising with the sun and getting a dozen chores done before setting off for school.
He may not have lived at home for eight years, but some things were ingrained.
And even if that hadn’t woken him, his regular-as-clockwork, five-in-the-morning stiffy would have. He stretched as he wrapped his fingers around it, thinking about the lovely Juliet. Her flushed face and blue eyes. The soap suds on her cheeks. The way she’d looked at him like he was Tiny’s problem not the other way round.
The way she’d laughed.
He wondered what she looked like in a bikini. It was obvious she spent a lot of time on the beach. Her hair had the distinctive yellow gold streaks that resulted from constant exposure to salt water and sunshine and her skin was kissed a gorgeous golden brown.
The original Aussie beach bum.
He s
lid his hand up and down his cock, picturing her in a sexy little two piece, her full breasts barely contained by two patches of fabric. Did she sunbake topless so there’d be none of those annoying strap marks? Or would there be two white triangles on her breasts when he finally got her naked because god knew, he wanted that.
He groaned at the thought, his balls aching, the muscles deep in his ass stirring. Unfortunately remembering Juliet meant remembering Tiny and, as if on cue, a bump from outside preceded a heavy thud.
His Achilles twinged. He shouldn’t have been able to feel it at all today. He wouldn’t have had he not been dragged around Coogee by a possessed puppy. He sighed, removed his hand from his deflating cock, and rolled out of bed. He needed to eat, shower, take Tiny for his morning constitution, and head to Henley, the Sydney Smoke home ground, for training.
Griff didn’t tolerate tardiness and Ryder had no desire to have his balls handed to him today. With any luck he’d get to use them tonight after puppy preschool if Juliet was open to having a bit of extracurricular fun.
But first he needed to investigate that thud.
Ryder stepped into the hallway to discover Tiny sitting in the middle, his tail wagging in greeting and what looked like a goofy smile on his face. Despite Tiny’s size, his behaviour, and the sheer impracticality of having him here, Ryder felt stupidly happy to see his big, dumb face.
For about two seconds. Until he saw the offering at Tiny’s feet. A steaming mountain of crap right in the middle of the hall runner.
Ryder blinked. He’d never seen so much dog doo in his life. What the hell had they been feeding him?
Bricks?
But he was impressed despite himself at the solid, symmetrical swirl. Like the turd emoji. Or like a Mr Whippy truck had backed in and dumped a load of chocolate.
Ryder looked from Tiny to Turd Mountain and back to Tiny again. His smile got bigger and Ryder shoved his hands on his hips. “That’s your good-morning-here’s-a-pile-of-crap-I-left-you-in-the-hallway look?” Tiny didn’t seem to have an opinion on the matter. “You couldn’t have at least done it on the floor boards?”
Ryder sighed and stepped around the giant offering, heading to the kitchen for a plastic bag but pulling up short as he rounded the corner into the lounge room. Tiny pulled up beside him and sat once again.
Together they surveyed the carnage. Ryder glanced at the dog. “What the hell?”
He looked at Ryder with an everything just suddenly exploded, I swear expression.
The place looked like a mini cyclone had been through. His ochre-coloured one-seater was completely destroyed—fabric and stuffing strewn from one end of the room to the other. The throw cushions, which he admittedly hated but his mother bought him every year for Christmas in an attempt to pretty things up, had also been gutted.
His pile of sports mags had been chewed and munched and strewn all over, several pairs of his shoes had been gnawed, the Elephant palm that some chick had bought him for feng shui—or some bullshit like that—had been upended and shredded like a plague of locusts had swept through.
His school sporting ribbons were like colourful flags amidst the detritus. The collection of trophies he’d earned over the years lay like fallen monuments on the ground. His mother had brought them with her, two at a time, until he had them all.
He picked up the one nearest his foot. It was an under-fourteen trophy for best and fairest. It was cheap and tacky—nothing compared to the chunks of silver he played for at an elite level, but his mother was as proud of it as she had been of last year’s premiership trophy.
Ryder noticed the figure on top was missing. He stared at Tiny. Oh hell to the no…
“Please tell me you did not swallow this?”
The dog stared back for long moments, before opening his mouth, ducking his head and dropping something to the wooden floorboards. Ryder crouched and picked it up. The fake gold plastic dude was covered in teeth marks and slobber but completely intact.
“Is this because I wouldn’t let you sleep with me last night?”
The dog had been lying on his bed when Ryder had switched off the game tape he’d been watching and headed to his room. It wasn’t the first time Ryder had slept with a dog—practically every night of his life on the farm, one cattle dog or another would warm his feet. But Tiny took up a hell of a lot more space.
Ryder had ordered him out. When that hadn’t worked, he’d dragged him out and shut the door.
“You have a perfectly good basket. In the laundry.” No wonder it’d looked pristine as Ryder had passed by if the bloody dog had spent its night redecorating instead of sleeping.
Ryder changed tack. “What do you think Juliet is going to say when I tell her about what a bad dog you’ve been?”
Tiny ears lowered and he hung his head. Bloody dog was a flirt. Ryder sighed, eyeing the destruction one more time.
“Any other turds amongst this mess I need to worry about?”
Tiny barked. Ryder had no idea if that meant yes or no, but he didn’t have time to go looking right now. One thing was for sure, there was no way he was leaving Destructo Dog alone in the apartment. Not if he wanted one to come back to.
Tiny was coming to training.
Ryder made it to Henley with five minutes to spare. Tiny made quite the entrance, loping into the locker room before being properly announced, startling four of the Smoke’s top players as they sat on the central bench, strapping up their boots.
Bodie Webb, Ryder’s best mate and known to all as Spidey, jumped onto the bench, adopting a ninja stance. “Jeeesus.” He glared at the dog then at Ryder. “What the ever lovin’ fuck is that?”
“New girlfriend,” Lincoln Quinn joked. Linc may have finally succumbed to monogamy, but his smart mouth hadn’t changed any.
Everyone laughed, but Ryder was not in the mood. “He’s a boy, douchebag.”
“Hey.” Linc shrugged. “That’s cool. New boyfriend, whatevs.”
There was more sniggering. Bodie climbed down from the seat. “Where the hell did you find that monster?”
“Val conned me.” There was a collective groan. Nobody had ever been able to say no to the coach’s daughter.
Tanner Stone, the team captain, folded his arms and stared at Tiny who was sitting calmly, tongue lolling. “Why in hell did you bring it to training?”
“Because I’m worried he’ll eat my entire apartment if I leave him alone and trust me, cleaning up one turd pile today is more than enough. I’ll tie him up in the shade at the northern end. It’s just for a few days. Until she can find someone else.”
Donovan Bane approached, letting Tiny sniff his hand before he caressed the dog’s head. At six four he was the only one who truly dwarfed Tiny. “I hope he’s not a digger or Ray’s gonna be pissed.”
Dono’s gift for understatement was a beautiful thing. Ray was the chief groundsman and nothing came between him and the perfect pitch come game day. Ryder had no idea whether Tiny was a digger. He hadn’t sat still long enough yesterday to test the theory. It seemed zigzag running and unleashing general carnage were his main attributes.
In which case he probably was.
“I better not stand in any dog crap out there,” Dexter Blake grouched.
“Harper still disinfecting everything?” Tanner asked.
Dexter nodded. “And it’s still two more months before the baby’s born. She’s like a crazy woman.”
John Trimble, father of three, clapped Dex on the back. “It’ll pass, trust me,” he advised sympathetically. “As long as she’s not asking you to dip your cock in bleach before you do the deed, just smile and nod.”
There was a collective wince as every man in the room appeared to be considering the prospect of a caustic agent near their junk. Even Tiny seemed to wince.
“I think we’re forgetting who’s going to be the most pissed off,” Bodie said after he’d unwinced his face.
Ryder hadn’t forgotten and he didn’t need Spidey to remind him that Gri
ff was his biggest obstacle. And not just because of the distraction from his training routine. No. He’d be epically pissed over Ryder fraternising with Valerie.
The coach, whose relationship with his daughter was strained to say the least, had never approved of Val socialising with the team. Unfortunately for Griffin King, his daughter lived, breathed, and slept the Sydney Smoke and she was just as stubborn as him.
“Ten bucks Coach makes you run some extra laps.”
Linc of course. But the others soon joined in. Tiny’s head angled from side to side, apparently trying to keep up with the growing pool which quickly climbed to a hundred bucks.
“What makes you think he’s even going to know?” Ryder demanded, which cracked up the entire locker room. The coach knew everything. “Seriously, if I go out now and get Tiny settled down at the north end, how’s he going to find out? We never go down that end.”
As long as Tiny didn’t bloody bark. Or crap too much. Ray could smell dog shit from a mile away.
The room suddenly went quiet, the laughter evaporating as the hairs on the back of Ryder’s neck stood to attention.
“He’s behind me, isn’t he?” Tiny barked and Ryder shut his eyes.
“Did someone forget to tell me this was bring your dog to work day, Davis?”
Ryder turned. Griffin King was a huge lion of a man. Tall and fit and strong, his grizzled face surrounded by a great woolly mane. He’d been a brilliant rugby player in his day and an even better coach. One of the best damn rugby coaches in the world.
He was one of those old school, tough-love coaches, but he got results. As Griff said, if they wanted hugs and hand holding, they could go back to their mummies.
Ryder swallowed. “No, Coach.”
“Is that your animal?”
“Temporarily, yes.” No way would he rat out Val.
“Is there a reason why it’s here?”
“It’s kinda a long story.”
“Good. You can recite it to yourself when you’re doing an extra ten laps.”
Ryder’s Achilles twinged. “Yes, Coach.”
Griff’s gaze shifted beyond Ryder’s shoulder. “Well, come on you lot. We haven’t got all day.”