Protective Instinct

by Tricia Lynne

  Amusement marched across my face, and I felt the tips of my ears turn red as an older gentleman walked up next to her. Carrie was at least in her fifties. Lil wasn’t even trying to hide her giggle, and my cheeks flamed to match my ears.

  “Damn it, Carrie. Stop flirting with the boy. He’s half your age. I apologize for her, son.”

  I grinned, sent him a conspiratorial wink. This man was clearly her husband, and this wasn’t the first time they’d been through this routine.

  I noticed absently that two more dogs were running in and out of our group. “To tell you the truth, I never mind flirting with a pretty lady, ma’am.”

  “Oh, flattery will get you everywhere. You could take some lessons, Everett.” She pointed at her husband while squeezing my biceps.

  “Which dog is yours?” I asked, and slowly turned to extricate my arm from her grip.

  “Oh, the red merle Aussie.”

  A laugh burst from a woman coming through the gate with another red merle Aussie. She had a warm brown ponytail sticking out of a baseball cap and a smile to match. Behind her came in a tall, curvy woman with mermaid-colored hair. “Sorry, it’s a running joke in this group,” Baseball Cap said. “Carrie’s dog is Sasha.” She pointed to the dog circling Jasmine trying to get her to play. “I’m Regan. Ping is my red merle.” She pointed after the dog chasing Jet. He was bigger than her, his build heavier.

  “The Aussie chasing Mack right now is Kiwi,” Regan continued. “That’s Melissa’s dog.”

  The woman with mermaid hair waved.

  “The yellow Lab swimming in the pond over there? That’s Gus. He belongs to Dave, who’s currently preoccupied with throwing the ball into the water for him.” Dave was a big guy, but probably in his sixties if he was a day. Yet, I’d bet he’d delivered a sack or two once upon a time.

  “And I’m Everett, in case you hadn’t figured it out.” The gentleman in beat-up Wranglers and a John Deere hat stuck his hand out. “Glad to meet you, son. Mine is the German Wasteofur over there chasing Gus into the pond. Orion is his name.” He pointed to a big Shepherd mix.

  The group chuckled, but it took me a minute to get the joke. “German Waste O’ Fur.” I laughed.

  “How’s the shoulder treating you?” Everett nodded toward it. “Gonna be ready for camp come July?”

  “Yes, sir. I believe so.”

  “Glad to hear it. You got a nose for the ball, that’s for sure. Gonna be a helluva addition to the Hall of Fame someday.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Oh, Lord, here we go.” Melissa shook her head. “I know down here you all think this man is the second coming of Dick Butkus, but will you get real? Seriously.”

  Not able to stop it, I barked out a laugh. She was passionate, I’d give her that. Most people who followed football were. I didn’t blame her for defending her team. Besides, I happened to agree.

  “True enough. Nobody will ever be number fifty-one but number fifty-one.”

  Everett waved her off, leaned over with a stage whisper. “Melissa’s from Illinois.”

  But Melissa didn’t slow down. “Every year with you Bulldogs fans. Win two games in a row and you start talking championship.”

  A funny thing happened around then. As I was listening to them argue about my Hall of Fame prospects, it dawned on me they were distracting me on purpose. I’d relaxed like Lily had asked me to and CC wasn’t by my leg anymore.

  Lily was engaged in a conversation with Regan and Dave, but she brushed me with her shoulder to get my attention and nodded at my dog. My girl was circling back and forth under Kate’s hand as the woman cooed to her in a soft voice.

  My mouth fell open. She’d never willingly let anyone touch her except me and Lil. Not even Rob.

  “Her issues aren’t with dogs. They’re only with people. She approached Kate on her own. Which means she’s learning to trust.” Lily’s near whisper had my abs tightening as I wondered what those lips would feel like against my ear. I turned to her. When she saw the heat in my eyes her own widened.

  Fuck if I didn’t want to kiss her.

  Something told me that mouth with its perfect little bow and slightly larger lower lip would taste like fine wine against my tongue. She must have read my mind because she took a step back and exhaled a heavy breath.

  Shit. This woman was dangerous to my self-control.

  Then, the most remarkable thing happened. Mack cut a swath straight to CC, all wiggles and smiles and drool.

  Standing in front of my girl, he slapped his paws against a patch of bare earth and the smell of clean, cool dirt rose to meet my nose. Ass-end in the air, elbows on the ground, Mack twisted his head this way and that while making grunting noises that had everyone smiling.

  My girl’s nub tail went a million miles an hour, but she hesitated.

  Lily mumbled under her breath, “C’mon, CC. Play with him.”

  Jet circled behind CC, pulled up shoulder-to-shoulder with my girl. Jet broke into a bouncy run and CC launched a split second later. When Mack joined them, most of the other dogs fell into the chase.

  My girl was playing! The first time we’d come, she’d followed Jet, tolerated Mack, but was more concerned with her surroundings. Now, it was as if she’d woken up and said, “Look, there are other dogs for me to play with!” Swear to God, I knew what the Grinch from the children’s book felt like when his heart grew.

  Out of the blue, the little red Aussie turned on the afterburners, and I figured out why Lily had named her Jet. But then CC did the same.

  Holy shit. CC. Was. Fast. Especially for a big dog.

  Not as fast as Jet, but her long legs made up some of the difference. When Jet hit the brakes and cut back, so did CC. Mack—who’d taken a line-of-sight to catch up—plowed into CC’s shoulders, bowling her over. My heart jumped into my throat, but my girl shook it off and slapped the ground with her massive paws. The two of them bounced around, pushed and shoved each other as the other dogs came to check out the wrestling, as Mack mouthed the skin on CC’s face and CC swung her butt around, knocking him over.

  “Mack’s found himself a wrestlin’ buddy,” Carrie said. I hadn’t realized that the conversations had stopped to watch the play. “That’s a fine dog you got there, sugar. With that kind of speed and athleticism, we’ll see her in novice agility class in no time.”

  Regan spoke up. “You can tell she hasn’t been given a chance to be a dog, and people are scarier for her, but her confidence will come in no time.”

  And that’s when CC nipped Mack. Hard.

  The little fireplug howled, and I tensed, started for the dogs, but Everett grabbed my elbow. “Wait, son. She’s about to find out if she gets too rough, he won’t play with her.”

  “Not gonna let a fight break out.”

  “Watch, young Skywalker. There are things other dogs can teach her quicker than you can. They won’t fight. The energy between dogs about to fight is different. If you’re paying attention, you can sense the shift when a fight is coming.”

  Lily was watching the interaction closely. She gave me a short nod of reassurance. “Everett’s right. Besides, Mack won’t fight with her. He’d run. Jet would fight for him.”

  Princess Jet trotted between the two with her nose in the air and CC turned to sniff at the wet Lab, who’d come to check things out.

  Crisis averted.

  “How did y’all know that?”

  “Time and experience, Shaw.” Lily grinned. “When you have a defensive player about to lose their temper, what do you do?”

  “I get in front of him, tell him to take a walk. Cool off.” Jet had done what would have been my job on the football field.

  Lily sent me a cocky smirk. “I’m going to give you a couple of books on canine body language.” Taking a step forward, she let out an ear-splitting whistle. Jet’s head turned, and
all the dogs followed as the Aussie returned to the group of people.

  This woman.

  She couldn’t be more than five foot two. But I had no doubt that Lily led this pack. If Jet ran the defense, Lily was her coach.

  And damn if that didn’t turn me right the fuck on.

  Chapter Nine

  Brody

  After CC’s class, we wandered into the retail portion of the training center to kill time. Lily’s class would end soon, and then we could talk about the mill progress. After I bought a bag of CC’s favorite treats, I let her make the rounds in the large building.

  She used to avoid strangers. One by one, the people at the Unruly Dog had won her over with treats and affection. She was more confident now, her ears perked up instead of laid back against her head. She’d also started seeking out strangers to say hello.

  We wandered to the indoor dog fountain next to the shop and she slurped up a decent amount. After I wiped her jowls with a golf towel—something that went everywhere with us now—we walked around the training center. A puppy class was going on in one area, everyone trying to get their dogs to sit on a mat, and the sound of clickers punctuated their success. Another had a tricks class where a dog was balanced on her owner’s upstretched feet. In a third area, a white-faced dachshund wormed her way through straw bales. “Rat!” the woman yelled, raising her hand. The instructor pulled a transparent, ventilated tube out of the straw where the dog had been sniffing. In another area, two teams of dogs from Chihuahua sized up to husky sized competed against each other, jumping a series of hurdles to retrieve a ball from a machine. As soon as they hit the platform and the ball launched into their mouths, they dashed back so the next dog could go.

  Outside the agility ring, I watched Lily teach as CC found a cool spot on the concrete at my feet and started snoring. The space was big, probably fifty yards by thirty yards, with obstacles all around. Lily was sitting on the floor at one end of a tunnel with her legs crossed. “Snorts, you’re up!”

  Snorts’s owner stepped up to the opposite end of the tunnel with the bulldog. “Snorts, tunnel!” she yelled, but the dog hesitated.

  Lily peeked through the far end and called him. “Let’s go, buddy! C’mon!” The dog reared up like a bull, throwing his butt to one side before dashing through the tunnel only to crash into Lily’s lap. “Yay! Good boy!” She scratched his ears as the dog snorted and licked at her chin. Once his mom clipped his leash on, they headed for the back of the line of students.

  “Murphy.”

  His owner unhooked his leash, but this pup didn’t hesitate—he dashed through, got his treat, turned around and ran back into the tunnel, only to fly out of the entrance.

  “Murphy is a tunnel sucker.”

  Lily’s laugh hit me low in the gut.

  Dusting off her pants, she adjusted the height on two jumps—one before and one after the tunnel. “Okay, let’s put it together.

  “Your dog is going to go jump, tunnel, jump. Then, you’re going to bring the dog around the side of the jump, back into the tunnel, ending with the first jump. Got it?” Class nodded, though I could see their nerves. “Khloe, first. Then, Snorts, Phineas, Nelson, Murphy, and Bandit.”

  Each dog took their turn, some better than others, but all of them were having fun while Lily called out adjustments to the owners. “Call Murphy’s name as he’s taking the jump, so his attention is on you when he lands. Keep your feet moving when you reach the tunnel, too. Or you’re communicating to him it’s okay to stop.”

  When it was Snorts’s turn, Lily kneeled at the end of the tunnel to make sure he got a treat for going through. “Okay, gang, that’s all today. Next week, we’re going to start learning the dog walk.” She pointed to a long, narrow bridge painted yellow on each end.

  That was when Snorts’s mom made her way over to Lily while glancing up at me.

  As they came my way, I couldn’t help but admire the sway in Lily’s hips. “Good class?”

  “Hey, Brody, come meet your namesake! His mama was hoping you’d sign his jersey.” Lily’s grin was something to see. So was the bulldog’s smile.

  “He has a jersey?”

  “Yes, in my car! If you wouldn’t mind, I mean.” Snorts’s mom had a shy smile.

  “Don’t mind at all. Snorts is the kind of dude I could use on the line.”

  His mom chuckled, handing Lily the leash before taking off for her car.

  I bent to scratch the dog and couldn’t help grabbing his snout in a playful shake. “Hey bud, you wanna job on the defense? You look like a tackle if I’ve ever seen one.” The bulldog danced around, making happy snorts while he chased my hand. “My namesake?” I turned to Lily.

  “Snorts is a conformation dog. He has a registered name and a call name. Prepare yourself for some selfie-love. I think Snorts’s mom has the hots for you.” She grinned, pushed her hair back, gathering it into a ponytail that exposed the creamy skin of her neck. Damn, I wanted to put my lips there.

  “Too bad all I can think about is you.” It slipped out, but it was for damn sure the truth. Lily was on my mind more than I’d like to admit.

  At least for a second, she looked caught off guard. Then she stepped it up. “Pfft. Yeah, right. I saw the photos in Dallas Life & Style.”

  “What photos?”

  “You, leaving a bar with a blonde under each arm. They had a picture of the three of you getting out of a car in front of your apartment, Shaw. Like I said before, you’ve got a line of women waiting to hop in your bed that get off on that whole football thing. You don’t need me to be one of them.”

  I didn’t know anything about photos, but Lil sounded bitter. “When was this?”

  She picked at her nails. “This month’s issue.”

  That would have been Staci and Erica.

  I scrubbed a hand along my scruff. Much to my dismay, I did care what Lily thought of me. That hadn’t happened since Andra.

  Andra had tried to make me into something I wasn’t, and Lily believed what she saw rather than seeing the truth. I wasn’t that guy anymore—and the lengths people would go to, the lies they would fabricate for money, were infinite. How could I trust Lily if she took everything the media said about me as gospel? Hell, how could I trust myself when I was a bad enough judge of character that Andra had slipped under my radar?

  I wished what Lily thought of me didn’t bother me so damn much.

  Not only was she interesting and funny, brave and strong, she stood for what she believed in and loved deeply, I could see it with her dogs. Lily Costello was a boss. If there was a woman made for me—to understand how this game molded me, now and long after I’ve hung up my pads—it was her alone.

  “Lil, please don’t believe all that shit. It’s meant to stir up gossip because it sells magazines.” CC whined, and I reached down to pet her head. “You’re entitled to think what you want about me—most people believe what they see, what the media says—but I didn’t sleep with anyone that night.”

  When she angled her head to weigh my words, the lights caught her eyes. I was so fucked.

  “Found it!” Snorts’s mom waved the jersey and a marker in the air as she came back down the hall.

  I laid the tiny jersey out across the bleachers and chuckled. It was my number—number 58—with Shaw printed above. “Huh, I’ll be damned. I didn’t even know they made these. I need to get one for CC so my girl can wear my number.” I put on an affable smile as I uncapped the marker, but all I really wanted to do was make Lily understand. “Tell me about this namesake thing.”

  She giggled. “Snorts’s registered name is Champion Bello, Brody Shaw’s GOAT.”

  “I don’t know about Greatest of All Time, but thank you. I’m honored, little dude.” Bending over, I scratched his noggin, to which he wiggled with great amusement. I signed the jersey To my man Snorts: Greatest Bulldog of All Time, and
handed it back to his mom. “There you go.” She seemed thrilled. After Lily took a few pictures for her, Snorts left with his mom.

  It had gotten late. The center had fallen quiet except for the two of us. Lily opened Jet’s crate, letting the dog out to join us.

  “This class was entry level? Doesn’t seem too hard to get your dog to go through a tunnel and over a jump.” I was sure there was more to it. I wanted to see Lily run with Jet. Something told me it would be spectacular.

  “It doesn’t, huh?” She jutted her chin. “These dogs are athletes. The handlers, coaches. We do strength and conditioning workouts. They get injured. So do we. There’s a lot more to this sport than you saw with this class, Shaw. You don’t have to be good at it to enjoy it. Most of my students are here for fun. To build their bond with their dogs. However, a select few agility teams travel the world with their dogs, even represent the US at the World Championships.”

  Why the hell did I love it when she called me by my last name?

  She glanced down at the Aussie. “The dogs in this class were beginners. Many may never compete; I always have a handful of students who give it a try, though. A few of those will go on to earn titles with their dogs.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “How?” This sounded like something CC and I could do.

  “There’s a class system. Each dog has to earn enough points from clean runs to receive a title and advance to the next level.” With pride in the set of her shoulders, Lily patted Jet’s head. “Jet has her MACH—Master’s Agility Champion—title. We’re working on her premium title so we can make the world team.”

  Now I really wanted to see them run. “Are you going to show me what she can do?” I nodded at the dog.

  The curl of Lily’s lip was sly.

  She turned on her heel, opening the door to enter the ring with Jet at her side. Annnd, once again I found myself staring at her ass. For fuck’s sake. Maybe if we just slept together... BAD IDEA.