Daddy’s Naughty Dog Trainer
I train dogs, not men. But if I did? Sean Ferguson would be my most difficult case yet.
Not that I should be thinking about my client like that. I should be focused on assessing his golden retriever puppy, Lucky, who’s currently galloping around his owner’s pristine home like a furry wrecking ball. But instead, I’m watching Sean, all six-foot-something of him, standing rigidly by his spotless leather couch, hands clenched into fists at his sides like he’s barely holding himself together.
Not because of me. Because of the dog.
“Lucky, no!” His deep, commanding voice rolls through the space like thunder, but Lucky, bless his chaos-loving heart, does not give a single damn. He leaps onto the couch, paws skidding against the smooth surface, and then, oh, here we go, he latches onto one of the decorative pillows and gives it a good shake.
Sean’s jaw tightens. I swear I hear his teeth grinding.
I bite back a laugh. “You said on the phone that he had impulse control issues, but you didn’t say it was this bad.”
Sean drags a hand down his face. “I underestimated him.”
“No kidding.”
I click my tongue and squat down, patting my thighs. “Lucky, here!” My voice is commanding but also full of encouragement. Lucky hesitates for half a second before bounding toward me, pillow still clutched between his teeth. I scratch behind his ears, murmuring praise, then gently guide him into a sit. He obeys, tail wagging.
Sean exhales, looking both impressed and deeply skeptical. “How the hell did you do that?”
I grin. “A little patience. A little positive reinforcement.” I tug the pillow from Lucky’s mouth and pass it to Sean. He stares at it like it’s personally offended him. “We’ll have him trained in no time.” I replace the pillow with one of the Kong toys I’ve brought with me. It’ll take a lot for Lucky to chew through it.
Sean folds his arms over his broad chest. “Forgive me if I don’t share your optimism.”
That’s when I really take him in. He’s a walking contradiction. He’s dark, brooding, and a man who clearly thrives on control, and yet… he’s completely at the mercy of a seventy-pound puppy. His navy button-up is crisp, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, hinting at strong, capable hands. His slacks? Perfectly pressed. His black-framed glasses? Unsmudged, despite the chaos around him.
And that jawline? Lord, have mercy.
If I met him under different circumstances, I’d peg him as someone who probably color-codes his bookshelves and alphabetizes his spice rack. The kind of man who has rules, strict ones, and expects everyone around him to follow them.
Too bad I’ve never been good with rules.
I shake myself, tearing my gaze away before he catches me ogling. Focus, Jess. You’re here to train his dog, not drool over your client.
I clear my throat. “Tell me about Lucky’s routine.”
Sean moves to the sleek kitchen, setting the abused pillow on the counter like he’s contemplating throwing it away. “I take him out at six a.m. sharp. He eats at seven. We do some training exercises after, but he loses focus fast. I work from home, so he stays in my office while I’m in meetings.”
I arch a brow. “And how does that usually go?”
He lets out a slow breath. “Not well.”
I stifle a smile. “And what do you do when he acts up?”
“Tell him no.” His tone is exasperated, like it should be obvious.
I nod, schooling my expression. “And does he listen?”
Sean’s silence is answer enough.
I press my lips together to keep from laughing outright. Oh, this is going to be fun.
Lucky, as if proving my point, suddenly bolts toward the dining table, tail wagging furiously. Before Sean can react, the pup snags the corner of a file folder that’s sitting near the edge and tugs it down with a victorious shake. Papers scatter across the floor.
Sean lets out a string of curses under his breath, dropping to his knees to collect them. “You little—” He exhales sharply, gripping the folder like it personally betrayed him.
I kneel beside him, helping him gather the mess. A few pages are crinkled, some smudged with puppy slobber. I scan the text, something about government security protocols. Interesting.
“You’re a government guy, huh?” I tease, handing him a few papers. “That explains the whole everything in its place vibe you’ve got going on.”
Sean shoots me a look. “I work in cybersecurity.”
“So, computers, codes, secret hacker stuff?”
His lips twitch like he wants to smile but refuses to give me the satisfaction. “Something like that.”
I glance toward Lucky, who’s now sprawled out happily on the floor, chewing the corner of a rug. “And yet, for all your security expertise, you’re getting taken down by a puppy.”
Sean drags a hand through his thick, dark hair. “Yeah, thanks for pointing that out.”
I grin. “That’s what I’m here for.”
Standing, I clap my hands twice, getting Lucky’s attention. “Alright, big guy. Let’s get to work.”
I spend the next half-hour walking Sean through basic training exercises. Lucky is smart, eager to please, and despite his chaos, responds quickly when given the right kind of direction.
Sean, however? He’s a different story.
“You’re too stiff,” I tell him after Lucky blatantly ignores one of his commands. “He can feel your frustration.”
Sean sighs through his nose. “I’m not frustrated.”
I cock a hip, giving him a knowing look. “Oh, please. You’re about two seconds away from popping a blood vessel.”
His glare could melt steel. “Are you always this difficult?”
“Yep,” I chirp, tossing Lucky a treat. “And you hired me, so you’re stuck with me.”
Sean mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like another curse. Lucky barks, tail wagging, as if agreeing.
I cross my arms. “You have control issues, don’t you?”
Sean straightens, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”
“You like order. Structure. Everything in its place.” I gesture around his house, which is practically a showroom of clean lines and neutral tones. “And Lucky? He’s a walking, barking, drooling disaster.”
Sean’s jaw flexes. “You’re not wrong.”
I smile, knowing I’ve won this round. “Then you have to meet him in the middle. Work with him, not against him.”
Sean exhales slowly, rolling his shoulders like he’s releasing some of the tension he’s been holding. “Alright. Let’s try this again.”
I watch as he kneels, softens his tone, and gives Lucky the command one more time. And this time? Lucky listens.
The pride that flickers across Sean’s face is unmistakable.
“Well, look at that,” I say, nudging him playfully. “You can learn.”
Sean cuts me a sharp look, but there’s something else in his eyes now—something warm, amused, interested.
And I should absolutely, definitely not be enjoying it as much as I am.
But as I stand there, watching this ridiculously sexy, tightly wound man start to let go, just a little?
I can’t help but wonder what would happen if I pushed him even further.