Protective Instinct

by Tricia Lynne

  “Didn’t mind that, either. Didn’t even mind sleeping on your couch.” His tongue peeked out to roll over his lips. “But not calling me? That, I minded. And don’t tell me the dogs ate my note.”

  Wait, did I hurt his feelings? Truthfully, I didn’t think he’d even notice I hadn’t called. “I found your note. Thank you for everything.” I put a hand on his bicep. “You’re a really good guy, Shaw. And a good friend.”

  A pink tinge climbed his cheeks. “‘Friend,’ she says.”

  That was the moment I felt the lid on the chest where I kept my heart blow wide open. I really had hurt his feelings. “I’m sorry. I should never have taken advantage of you. I tried to use you to forget my shitty family for a while and it was out of line. I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’m...having someone take care of me—I’m not used to that. I’ve always taken care of myself. It embarrassed me. That I was so needy, I crawled into your lap like that and then you had to put me to bed. That’s not usually me.”

  He slapped the wheel with his palm. “Dammit, Lil. I want to be mad at you, especially after the friends comment... I know you’re not used to being taken care of, darlin’. I can tell you’re not comfortable with it. Shit. Honestly, I’m not all that comfortable with the fact that I care enough to do it, but that’s my shit.” He turned his head to meet my eyes. “But I don’t make out with my friends like that, so don’t you dare try to friend-zone me. We are more and you know it, too.”

  Turning in the seat to see him fully, I noticed the clenched jaw and tension in his shoulders. “Brody.” I steeled my resolve and my voice. “I should have never climbed Mount Shaw like that.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Mount Shaw? Christ, my emotions get whiplash when I’m around you.”

  Smoothing back the hair escaped from my ponytail, I let out an audible exhale. “I’m the one who said I didn’t want that kind of strain on this relationship because I didn’t want it to interfere with the dog search. Then I go and try to grind on you like a pillow-humper. I—”

  He put a hand up to stop me. “What’s a pillow-humper?”

  “A dog that runs around humping everything. Couch pillows, toys, beds, legs, et cetera. I was all, ‘Oh, big doggo haz nice hiney. I shud do a hump.’” Ohmygod. I can’t believe I said that out loud. “Not important.”

  Seriously? Now I was babbling in doggy voices?

  He barked out a laugh that didn’t end, and the sound was my favorite music. “Aww shit, Lil.” He wiped an eye with the back of his knuckle. “I’m so glad I asked.”

  I shook my noodle to clear my thoughts. As a general rule, I only geeked out like that in my head. This whole conversation had me shook and shit started pouring out of my mouth at record speed.

  “Dude, I’d have to be blind to not want to bang you... I mean, for Christ’s sake.” I gestured to all of him at once. “It would be like not flicking the bean to that one picture of you in the Sports Illustrated Body Issue, the one with the football in front of your junk. Christ, between you, and Tyler Seguin—”

  His head whipped around with sheer goddamned glee on his face. No other way to describe it. “Me and Tyl—are you shitting m—”

  I needed to stop talking, but I couldn’t. So, in true Lily Costello fashion I overcorrected my course. “In the history of bad ideas, you and I wouldn’t quite be as bad as Jelly shoes, but definitely worse than Crocs.”

  Turning away from me, his smile faded.

  “You are enough trouble, and I...” Might be falling for you. “...am not willing to risk all this.”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. “You think that little of me?”

  Whoops. Freudian slip. “In. You’re in enough trouble.”

  He nodded, but I could tell he didn’t believe me.

  I scrubbed my face with my hand. “I’m sorry for the mixed signals. That’s on me. But if we let sex get into this...you are my friend, Brody, and I think too much of you to sour that.”

  Brody’s jaw muscle twitched. “Aren’t you tired of the excuses? I am. We’ve both been making them for so long it’s like second nature and when one doesn’t hold water anymore, we have another at the ready. When, in reality, you’re scared of way more than damaging our friendship, and I’m scared of a hell of a lot more than losing my job. I’m just so tired of all of it. The Bulldogs organization. The excuses to keep people out. How much it stings when you believe the bullshit the media says. I won’t lie to you and tell you I have never been that guy, but I am not that guy anymore. I don’t screw around anymore. I haven’t in a while.”

  But how was I supposed to know if that was the truth or not? The owner’s granddaughter wasn’t that long ago, and the pictures from the fantasy suite spoke for themselves. “What about the owner’s granddaughter, Shaw?”

  His eyes went wide, before a line appeared between them.

  “Yeah, I know about that. What about the pictures from the fantasy suite?”

  I hated that I’d brought it up. That I’d bothered to point out the exceptions to his claim simply because it meant that I cared that he did screw around, that he was lying to me about a part of his life that was none of my goddamned business.

  He ran a hand through his hair and his face smoothed. “The granddaughter was a mistake. The fantasy suite is utter bullshit, but the truth is, it doesn’t matter what I tell you. You’re going to believe the worst of me because that’s what keeps you from getting hurt. I get it. I’ve been doing it, too. The thing is, that persona? It never really bothered me before. Not until right now. Not until you. Because all I want is for you to see me and all you see is football. This thing.” He gestured between us. “This could be real, enduring. Beyond football and legacy. Beyond rumors and mistrust.” He started to open his door. “But, hey, thanks for the reminder, Lil. I needed that kick in the nuts.”

  I grabbed his forearm. “What reminder?”

  “That I’m still Brody Shaw, star middle linebacker for the Dallas Bulldogs.”

  As he spoke, something on Everett’s SUV caught my eye. “Shit. I know what spooked them.”

  He whipped back to me and I pointed through the windshield.

  “The sticker. On Everett’s window.” I nodded in the direction of the SUV where Everett had a sticker for the Unruly Dog Training Center.

  He leaned forward. “Sonofabitch. I think we had the right guys.”

  “Can’t be certain, but yeah, my gut tells me that was them.” And they slipped through our fingers.

  “We should go tell everyone else.”

  “Brody.”

  “Yeah.” He kicked something nonexistent in the road.

  “Look at me.”

  He did, I could see the shadow of pain lingering there. Brody wanted me to believe him and it hurt him that I didn’t. The thing was, he hadn’t really given me a reason to believe him because all evidence was to the contrary.

  Yet, he was right about what we had between us. “I know you want me to take you at your word. That you think I’ve always got my guard up, but I’m not the only one, Brody. If you decide to want to tell me your side of the stories, I’ll listen and try not to judge.”

  His expression turned thoughtful as he adjusted the bill of his ball cap and seemed to mull over my offer. With a soft nod, he climbed out of the truck and the two of us went inside to tell the others about the orange and black truck that escaped.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Care and Maintenance of Damaged People:

  A Dog’s Guide to Rescued Humans

  Brody

  It was hot as balls outside. Texas in July was miserable, I didn’t give a shit what anyone said. I’d lived here my whole life and I barely tolerated it. With training camp a week away, Hayes and I had only one pet shop left on our list in the immediate vicinity. We could always widen the circle later if we needed to. We both had our roles down pat, but each one of these
shops made my stomach roll now that I knew where the puppies came from.

  Hayes pulled the door open, a bell dinging overhead. We walked past the toys and birds in their cages, through damp air heavy with the smell of newspaper and urine. Guinea pigs darted away from their glass as we walked by while ferrets slept in an aquarium that needed to be cleaned. Hayes nodded toward the rows of kennels against at the back. A glass wall separated them from the rest of the shop.

  All Puppies 20% Off was scrawled on the glass in brightly colored window paint. There must have been forty kennels total. Only a few were empty awaiting their next tenant. Some puppies slept curled in balls on top of wadded up blankets while others walked gingerly over their grated kennel floor, waste pans below them for easy cleaning. A few barked incessantly. A few had toys. Most didn’t. Several kennels had sale signs clipped to the front: Rare Lilac Merle French Bulldog, $4800 For a Limited Time.

  He was older than some of the other pups.

  Another read American Staffordshire Terrier On Sale! $2000. He was older, too, and crammed in a kennel he could barely stand up in. Then there were the younger ones. The ones that were barely old enough to be weaned.

  My teeth ground together as I took in the Bull Terriers and Pit Bulls. A Dogo Argentino and South African Boerboel. Bulldogs. Boxers. Boston Terriers. Doodles of all kinds. Each place we’d been to in the past couple of weeks had some version of this set up.

  Each time, I had to fight the urge to slap a card on the counter and buy every dog here. Or beat the holy hell out of whoever owned the place.

  But that defeated the purpose. Buying the dogs here would only line their pockets and perpetuate the cycle. Lily taught me the only way to put a stop to the mills was to stop making it profitable.

  Stop buying.

  Hayes nudged my shoulder, nodded at a Basset Hound pup who kept circling his kennel trying to find a place to lie somewhere other than on the exposed bars. When he turned to me, I knew he was having a moment. He wanted to take the pain away but knew why he shouldn’t, too.

  “Hiya, see a pup you’re interested in?” The dude was short and a little round, he wore a blue shirt with the pet store’s name embroidered on the pocket. “We’ve got visiting rooms back here, you can spend some time with one of them if you like.” He sat the rabbit he was carrying into a glass habitat filled with bedding and three other rabbits.

  I affixed my fake smile. “Possibly.”

  His face went slack, eyes like silver dollars. We’d seen this in several of the places we’d been to, but the awe factor hadn’t gotten us the information we needed.

  “Good God Almighty. You’re number fifty-eight!”

  “I am,” I said affably. “This is my teammate, Hayes Walker.” I nodded to the man next to me, who wasn’t smiling. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and tipped his chin. I knew that look. If Hayes spoke, he was going to go batshit on the guy.

  “We were checking out the pups. Got lots of bully breeds,” I said, gesturing to the kennels.

  The guy rushed forward, sticking out his hand. I only shook it because I didn’t have a choice. “It’s an honor to meet you two!” One look at Hayes, and the dude thought better of offering his hand to him.

  “I’m a huge Dallas Bulldogs fan. I’m the Bulldogs’ biggest fan.” Hands settling on his hips, his smile was wide and genuine.

  We could use this. “Well then, it’s an honor to meet you...” His nametag said Randall with Sales Manager printed underneath. “... Randall. So, lots of bully breeds, huh?”

  “Yeah, is that what you’re after? We’ve got some rare breeds, too. Lots of folks wanting bullies around here. That, and the doodles, and anything that says, ‘Teacup’. Are you looking for something unusual? Did you see the Lilac Frenchy? They’re going for eight large in L.A. Maybe a bulldog for the Bulldog?”

  Hayes grunted again, turned back to watch the Basset Hound puppy circling.

  “Oh, he’s beautiful for sure. Why’s he on sale?”

  Randall’s mouth screwed up. “Eh, he’s almost four months old. But his parents were AKC champions.”

  My bullshit meter went on high alert. Sure, they were. “Actually, I was hoping to find Cane Corsos.” I deliberately didn’t use the correct plural.

  Randall’s mouth formed a little O. “You wanting to breed your dog?”

  He’d seen the news. “No, not her. I put her down after that, but I have some property north of here and I’d like to have a breeding pair.”

  “What’d you want to breed for? Just for you or are you selling? Maybe you had something else in mind?”

  I put on my biggest, friendliest aww shucks smile, thickening my accent. “Well, now. That there’s my business.”

  He chuckled, probably thinking it was for fighting. “True enough.”

  “You wouldn’t have any breeder names, would you? Maybe of somebody willing to sell off some of their breeding stock? Not that the pups aren’t cute, but I’d like to get started sooner rather than later.”

  “Hmm.” His mouth pulled tight as he studied me and Hayes. “Don’t generally do that here. Could get me in trouble with the owner.”

  “Tell you what, Randall? Let’s do this. I’ve got a couple of footballs in the truck Hayes and I could sign for you. The owner would never have to know.”

  He was tempted, but I could see the hesitance. “I don’t know, man. That could get me fired. I’m supposed to be selling the dogs we got here, but we won’t be getting any Canes in for a while. What about a Pit, instead?”

  He glanced at Hayes, who was watching the Basset Hound. I could feel the menace rolling off the tight end.

  I shook my head, leaned in. “A Pit won’t do. They have to be Corsos.” Rubbing a hand over my beard, I pretended to think. “What if I threw in a couple tickets to the home opener for you and the missus?”

  He paused a beat. “Would those be fifty-yard line, ya think?”

  “I can probably arrange that.” I put on my Southern boy grin.

  “I don’t know...” He brushed the back of his head.

  Hayes blew out a breath. “How much for the hound?”

  I sent the tight end a quick warning glance.

  Jaw tightening, he ignored me.

  “She’s $1600. I’d come down to $1400 for a Bulldogs player.” Randall winked.

  “If I take her, and we give you the signed balls?” Hayes got a little too close for the dude’s comfort, crowding him with his size.

  The manager took a step back. “A—and the tickets?”

  “And the tickets,” I returned, wearing a smile that made me want to throw up my lunch. This is exactly what Lily said not to do. She was going to have our nuts for this.

  After scrolling through the phone, I found the team’s PR department while Hayes whipped off cash for the dog. Two signed balls later, and a set of fifty-yard-line tickets at the will-call, and we had a name—Andrew Brower—and a phone number.

  “Lily’s gonna kick our asses for that. What were you thinking, man? And what the hell are you going to do with a dog?” The squirming pup was currently licking at Hayes’s chin while we walked back to my truck.

  “He wasn’t going to give it up unless we bought a dog. And I couldn’t watch this one circle that cage a minute longer, could I?” He nuzzled the puppy’s head. “No, I couldn’t, sweet pea. Not one damn minute. My sister and her boyfriend have been thinking about a dog. Now they have one.”

  I shook my head.

  Hayes slapped his free hand on my shoulder. “I know. I know what I just did. But, the greater good, Shaw.” He smiled. “We’ve got a lead.”

  We sure as hell did.

  I could only hope Lily saw the greater good, too.

  I pulled into a parking space at the Unruly Dog and left Hayes in the retail shop for everyone to fawn over the baby basset. He’d called to tell
his sister and luckily, she’d been ecstatic. She was going to drive down this weekend to pick the dog up.

  I pecked on the office door.

  “Come in,” came Lily’s voice.

  She glanced up from her desk and the butterflies in my stomach stirred. Actually, it felt more like a hornet’s nest in there. As much as I wanted to tell her what we’d found, I dreaded telling her how we got it. Plus, we hadn’t really been alone since the night at the rental house. We only made polite conversation at the center or if we needed to discuss the pet shops, but we never talked about what happened in my truck. It was driving me batshit. I wanted her so bad, and I knew she wanted me, too.

  “Hey, good classes today?”

  Her smile gave me a twinge in my chest. “Yeah, my favorite novice level agility class is today. They’re a lot of fun.”

  “I’ll have to stop and watch that one.” Gently, I closed the door behind me.

  “What’s up? Did you start a new class today?”

  I ran a hand over my scruff. “No, we’re finishing up Intro to Agility on Tuesday, but with camp starting, the next class will have to wait until I get back. I think we can get through all the Agility Fundamentals classes before playoffs. Which means I should be able to keep up with the Tuesday night schedule and move CC into novice before the playoffs. I might have to make up a class here or there if the team is traveling.”

  Lil nodded. Put down the folder she was holding. “Rob said CC is doing well. That her confidence is really coming along, and the class is too slow paced for her. You know you can take private lessons to speed up her training. Plus, it would probably fit your schedule better.”

  It took sheer force of will not to roll into the flirty banter and suggestive grin that came so easily around Lily, but she was the one who pumped the brakes. I respected that, even if it was based on her misconceptions. She obviously wasn’t comfortable with trusting me.

  It didn’t mean I didn’t want her anyway.

  We’d been doing a decent job not breaking the unspoken rule, but it took constant vigilance for me to pretend there was nothing between us.