by Tricia Lynne
After setting the phone down, I hit speaker and started grating the cheese. “Yep. He tried to buy me by writing a check to a rescue. He doesn’t get it. Dogs are things to him.”
“Umm, people are things to him, too,” Olive snapped. “The man would prefer it if everyone were born with their potential net worth stamped on their foreheads. Asshat.”
“I’m kinda in love with you right now.”
“Pfft. It’s probably as close as either of us are ever going to get.” We both chuckled. “Seriously, I don’t get how your mom could go from your dad to Dick.”
“I know exactly how. She had zero job skills besides a jump-split and strategically placed uniform mishaps. She also had a rapidly dwindling bank account. But she had her looks.” Popping the lasagna back in the oven, I finished up and poured myself a glass of wine.
Olive’s huff was judgmental to say the least. “Still.”
“Yeah, I know.” I knew, in her own screwed-up way, Audrey was trying to take care of me. I knew she loved my dad. Fiercely. But I was the result of her jersey chasing. Dad put a ring on it, and Audrey thought she was set for life. Until the call came that her husband was dead and the bank accounts empty.
I was Daddy’s girl through and through. But he put my mom on a pedestal then drove his car off a bridge, and whether it was an accident or not, she and I were the ones to suffer. I was never blind. I knew, even as a little girl, that my dad wasn’t okay. But this sport... The very nature of the game—which the teams reinforced—convinced the players they were invincible. Gods among men. Then, at the first sign they weren’t, it showed them the door. It set them up for failure later on in life from the moment their names were announced on draft day.
Olive’s microwave beeped followed by a high-pitched bark from Cassie. “Y’all doing the agility trial in Anna this weekend?” Olive asked. The trial in Anna was practice for veterans like Jet and Cassie.
“Yeah, I’ve got a couple of students who were interested in competing so I’m going to show them the ropes. You?”
“No. You know what Cassie’s like in that horse barn. She’d rather chase mice than run obstacles.” Clearing her throat, Olive deepened her voice. “So, Bulldogs are on my I’d rather stick my head in a bag of snakes list but at least tell me you’re going to climb that mountain tonight, my friend.”
“What? No! Brody’s bringing someone with him! We’re just talking about how to approach the pet stores, is all.”
“Hmphf. I’m trying to live vicariously through you here, Lil.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m not going to lie, the man is gorgeous, but I’m not crossing up those wires.” I felt my stomach tense, because it didn’t seem to matter how many people Brody had screwed, my body wanted to get those wires all crossed the hell up. “Besides, after the whole fantasy suite thing? I don’t judge—as long as it’s all consensual and everyone is of age, go’on and do your thang. But orgies are not my thing.”
“Ha. Says the woman who has Brody ‘The Body’ Shaw bringing a friend to her house for...erm, dinner.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “Seriously, are you even sure it’s Brody’s thing? He’s said publicly he didn’t participate on several occasions.”
“You’ve seen the pictures.” Brody was... Even if he wasn’t a participant, the man had new women on his arm all the time—case in point: the team owner’s granddaughter and the Doublemint twins.
“Sweets, I’ve been in this business a long time—he doesn’t sound coached. Far be it from me to defend a football player, but he’s either a very good actor, or he’s telling the truth. It wouldn’t be the first time the media sensationalized something like this. You ever heard of Photoshop? Maybe you should give it a chance. If you two have that much chemistry...”
“Mmhmm.” I swallowed a sip of wine. “Maybe you should throw away all of tomorrow’s to-do lists, call in sick, and drop in on a pole-stripping class.”
Olive cackled into the phone. “Like that would ever happen. Besides, I can’t call in sick. I own the place.”
“Workaholic,” I said with a smile in my voice.
“Cynic,” she threw back, and we both snorted as my doorbell rang.
After a quick goodbye to Olive, I went to answer the door. I’d made an unconscious, yet conscious, decision to dress down in sweats and a holey T-shirt. My feet were bare, my hair was pulled up in a knot, and I’d even worn granny panties on purpose.
When I opened the door, however, Brody looked like a snack in a thin black leather jacket, and a gray Henley with the top two buttons undone.
“Uhh, hey.” His voice was the tickle of feathers over my skin.
“Hey.” I took a moment to soak him in. God, he was yummy.
“I hope it’s okay, I brought CC to play with Mack.”
“Mmm, yep.”
A beat went by.
“Sure smells good.” He glanced into the house while my eyes scanned down his torso to a pair of faded jeans that fit like a glove. I was in a full-on Brody-induced coma—a Broma.
“Mmhmm. Sure does.”
“Lil?” Brody’s grin was slightly uncomfortable. “Are you going to invite me in?”
I wondered briefly if I had drool on my chin before I remembered to close my mouth and snapped out of my Broma.
Granny panties. Granny panties. Totally not sexy, Lil. That’s when I noticed Hayes standing back off the porch with a shit-eating grin. “Shit. Yes! Sorry. Y’all wanna take CC around back to let her run off some energy? Her and Mack will do a number wrestling in my house.”
“Sure.” His answer was almost shy, and that blush on his cheeks? The granny panties were officially damp.
“Ohaaaiii, Liiileee.” Hayes drew out my name in amusement. Then the asshole started thrusting his hips in the air like he was giving Brody the business, only Brody couldn’t see him, so it was just for my benefit.
Was it that obvious that I wanted to climb this man? I went full-on face-palm. “Hi, Hayes.” Apparently, it is.
Christ, I’d lost my damn mind.
“Uhh, I brought wine and chocolate cheesecake.” Brody handed me a bag and brushed a bright red ear with his fingers like he knew he was blushing.
I peeked inside. Ohmygod, this big, beautiful, blushing man had brought me alcohol and chocolate. If the granny panties hadn’t been damp before... “Ooooh, you didn’t have to do that. Thank you. I mean, it’s going to go straight to my ass, but...yeah.” I was babbling.
His grin was a little shy, a little sly. “Yeah, I did. First, my mama would slap me upside the head if she knew I went to a pretty girl’s house for dinner and didn’t take her dessert. And second, your ass is perfect.”
My mouth fell open the smallest bit. “I’ll just, um, meet you guys out back. Gate’s over there.” I don’t know what he said, but Hayes earned himself a shove from Brody as they turned the corner of the house.
After putting the cake in the fridge, I poured them both a glass of wine and refilled my own. Balancing all three, I nudged the back door with my butt while reminding myself that I was not allowed to lick Brody Shaw like an ice cream cone. No-sir-ee.
Good luck with that, my brain fired at me.
“Oh, fuck off,” I whispered as I let the door go.
Brody and Hayes were standing at the bottom of the steps from the retaining wall in similar poses. Legs spread apart, arms crossed over their chests. And Jesus H...those football butts.
Lord thank you for football asses. And thighs. Didn’t mean to forget the thighs. Amen.
“Here you go, guys.” I handed off the glasses. “How are the dogs doing?”
Hayes chuckled. “Your boy is trying to get CC to chase, but she’s ignoring him to sniff the yard.”
“She’s been taking lessons from Jet on how to handle men,” Brody intoned.
Jet trotted up next to him, nudge
d his hand with her nose, and his surprise was comical. “Hey girl, how are ya?” She slipped her soft head under his hand. “Well, I’ll be damned. Finally decided I’m a worthy admirer, huh?” He scratched her ear as we watched Mack follow CC around making play overtures like a lovesick puppy.
“Poor guy.” Hayes shook his head. “He’s got it bad.” I didn’t miss how his eyes darted to Brody.
Brody was more concerned with the female paying attention to him than with Mack’s crush on CC. Handing his wineglass to Hayes, the linebacker dropped into a squat next to Jet, letting her lean into his side while he relished finally being allowed into Jet’s orbit.
After a good long sniff, CC took Mack up on his offer to chase and I watched as she broadsided my little fireplug, knocking him on his ass.
“Damn if Shaw doesn’t know how that feels. I’ve got twenty on CC.” Hayes chortled.
I pretended not to hear the first part. “I’m not taking that bet. Mack is smitten.”
Finally, Jet decided to act like a dog and joined the others. When she approached, CC did a little posturing. “What do you see, Shaw?” I tipped my head to the dogs.
“They’re in play mode.”
“How can you tell?” I asked.
“CC’s neck is arched, but her nub tail is in a relaxed wiggle. The energy is calm.”
I nodded, pleased Brody had read the books I recommended.
“CC’s mouth is slack, and her weight isn’t on her toes. Her ears are laid back a bit,” Hayes added.
“You know something about dogs, Walker?”
He shrugged, sipped from his glass. “I had ’em growing up.”
With a blink, CC took off running, Jet jumping to join her and Mack cutting the yard to bring up the rear. I sipped my wine, my glass near empty already. The timer on my watch went off. “Lasagna’s ready.”
Brody turned toward me. “Smells good.” He patted his stomach. “Not much longer and I’ll have to give that kind of stuff up for the season.”
Hayes chuckled. “How much weight are you gonna have to cut?”
“Hopefully only the ten pounds I’ve put on. I’ve been trying to be careful. Trying being the operative word.”
That’s when the dogs cut back toward us at full speed, but Brody had turned almost perpendicular to where I was standing, and I had a hard time seeing them behind his big body.
“Incoming.” As quick as I said it, Hayes shushed me.
It happened fast. Jet whipped her lithe frame through Brody’s parted legs and kept right on going. Brody’s face lit with surprise. Then CC and Mack tried to take the same path, but CC being tall—and Mack being wide—managed to hit the big man in the backs of his knees, taking them right out from under him.
The remainder of his wine went flying over his head as he landed flat on his ass with a thud.
Hayes was cracking up laughing, and I might have been worried about Brody hurting himself, but for the enormous grin he was wearing. Instead of getting up, he lay back in the grass, his chest shaking.
Hearing the ruckus, the dogs turned back to investigate. Mack decided to apologize by splaying across Brody’s chest to lick his face. “Ahh, damn, buddy. I sure am glad you’re the friendly sort. It was an excellent takedown.” Mack continued to lick at him while CC sniffed at her owner and determined he was okay before walking off. “Stahpp. Stahpp, buddy.”
Still laughing myself, I remembered how much Mack liked openmouthed kisses. “Dude, I’d stop talking if you don’t want him to slip you the—”
“Tongue! Blech.” Too late. Giving Mack a playful shove he sat up. “Well, that was smooth. And I’m pretty sure Mack just licked one of my tonsils.”
Walking around him, I picked up the cracked glass, thankful it hadn’t shattered. “You broke my glass, Shaw.”
He pushed himself up from the ground. “He did it.” Pointing at my sweet boy, who had his tongue lolling to the side.
“Blaming the dog already, B? I thought that part came after you ate.”
Brody flipped Hayes off.
“There’s no such thing as smooth, Shaw,” I said. “Not with dogs around. Come in and eat. I’ll open another bottle.”
As I walked up the steps, I heard Brody whisper, “Seriously? Fart jokes? How old are you?”
My snort-laugh was so loud we were now all equally embarrassed.
Chapter Fourteen
“I blame cheesecake.” —Lily
Lily
My house was small and older, but had a big backyard and had been updated since I moved in. I heard the guys shuffle in behind me as I pulled the lasagna out of the oven. “Dogs follow you in?” Picking up the large pan, I set it on the stove and flipped the oven door closed.
Brody’s voice got louder as they got past the mud porch and into the kitchen. “No, they’re playing. Will they be okay out there?”
“They’re fine.” I turned, pulling another wineglass out of the cabinet. “Hey, can one of you check to make sure there’s water in the bowl by the back door?”
“It’s full.”
I quickly threaded a corkscrew into the new bottle like any self-respecting woman who had a love affair with her wine.
“Oh man, this is really nifty, Lil.” Brody’s eyes made a sweep of my kitchen as I worked the cork free.
Hayes grinned. “This is pretty fucking cool. Like it belongs on I Love Lucy or something.”
After pouring another glass for Brody and refilling my own, I refilled Hayes’s glass as well. The light blue metal cabinets and Formica counter, the black and white tile floor, the kitchen table that was straight out of a malt shop. “Thanks, I did a lot of the work myself.”
“It smells amazing in here. Can we help with anything?” Brody offered.
I waved him off. “Y’all, sit down and help yourself to the salad while I slice the bread.” Which I made quick work of. After sitting the lasagna on the table, I joined them.
“This smells amazing,” Hayes added. “You didn’t have to cook for us, Lily. We could have gone out.”
“Two problems with that. Oh, help yourselves, guys.” Hayes dug into the pan with the server and scooped a piece out for himself as I continued. “One, this isn’t a topic of conversation most people want to ruin their dinner, and two, y’all are a bit famous round here.”
“True.” Brody dug in and served me a piece of lasagna the size of my head before serving himself. “Generally, when I go out, I don’t get to eat or talk to anyone but fans.” He forked a bite of lasagna and moaned. “Dear God, this is good.”
Hayes chuckled. “The man likes his carbs.”
I swallowed my current bite. “So do I.”
Brody sent a conspiratorial wink my direction that had me thinking about his mouth closing around more than a fork.
Now, I was the one blushing.
Hayes noticed and I wished he hadn’t. “So, Lily, how long have you been training dogs?”
“Mmm, six years, I think? I don’t actually train dogs. I train humans on how to communicate with their dogs. What kinds of dogs did you have growing up?”
“Mostly strays. Mixed breeds,” Hayes replied.
“What about you? I’d imagine Billy was the kind of guy that couldn’t deny his little girl anything,” Brody asked.
I let loose a derisive snort. “Ha. I wouldn’t have wanted to have a dog when I was little. My house was...erm, my folks fought a lot. My dad liked to screw around at away games and he also drank like a fish and would lose his shit on occasion. Being Billy Costello’s kid wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be.”
When I glanced at Brody, his lips had thinned. He sipped his wine and I did the same, wishing I hadn’t said that. My mom and I didn’t tell people about these things. Mom didn’t want his legacy tarnished or whatever. As far as armchair quarterbacks knew, Billy was a model dad and husba
nd.
But these guys would have heard the rumors, the stories that got passed on in locker rooms. That, plus wine, and loose lips were the result. I needed to squash this shit. “And Dick... Well, we all know how shit on his Luccheses would go over with him.”
Hayes chuckled. “Have you ever been bitten?”
I nodded, thankful for the subject change. “As a trainer, you’ve either been bit or you’re going to get bit. It’s just a way of life. A dog who bites generally does it because the human isn’t doing a good job of reading the dog.” Setting my wine down, I held out my arm, where a group of puckered scars were set together. “This one was an Akita. I was getting my certification. He was resource guarding and the owner made it worse by trying to prove to the dog who the boss was. I thought we had it sorted, but as soon as his owner came back into the room, the dog reacted to the threat. I took six stitches.”
Brody leaned forward, brushing the scars with the pad of his thumb. “Damn, darlin’.”
Hayes whistled through his teeth. “Geez, Lil. Akitas are big dogs. I hope you had some help.”
“Eh. I’m a lot stronger than I look.”
A line appeared between Brody’s brows again. “No doubt, but don’t you ever get gun-shy?”
I shrugged. “I guess it’s like a quarterback. You either start hearing footsteps and panic because you’re about to get hit, or you block out the footsteps and do the job.”
“Except a quarterback has pads. And teammates,” Brody added.
Hayes nodded. “An offensive line.”
“And as good as I like to think I am as a linebacker, I don’t have fangs.”
I clenched my teeth. It was sweet these guys worried about me, but it was my job to be in harm’s way on occasion. “Guys, thanks for the concern, but it’s part of my job. A part that’s more dangerous the bigger the dog is, but I’ll take that Akita biting me over him biting the baby that just started crawling and put her hand in his food bowl any day of the week.” I refilled my glass. “You guys do your jobs. You take calculated risks each play. My job also requires calculated risks that I’m more than capable of assessing.”