Chapter Three
If it sounds too good to be true...
Lily
I’ve seen that expression on a dog’s face a hundred times before. The moment they choose the person who chose them. It was one of the most heartwarming things a trainer could witness, the first time a dog—especially a rescue—decides to give its love freely and without presumption.
I choose you, human. You will be my whole world until I take my last breath. I will give you my unconditional love because you will not fail me.
Of course, it didn’t always work that way. We failed them plenty. In the worst possible ways for reasons a dog could never comprehend. Yet, as often as we failed them, they had an unparalleled capacity to forgive. To move forward and continue to love with open hearts and minds.
I envied them that.
There are people who simply don’t notice that moment when it happens. The light bulb doesn’t go on for them, and they don’t realize the commitment the dog is making, or the one they’re making in return. For those folks, a dog is only a dog. They are things, possessions, like the new Mercedes sitting in the driveway that they might trade in on a new model in a few years’ time.
With Brody, the light went on.
He and I had been acquainted enough over the years that I knew the man wore a few different faces—and no, I did not want to think about how much I’d studied his face. On the field, Brody was all business. Be it practice or game time, he was the physical manifestation of determination and testosterone. He used the charming face during interviews and parties. It made him seem approachable even though he was guarded—a nifty little trick of his. Then, there was Brody’s flirty face. When he leaned in a little too close and made you feel like the only woman in the room. The cocky smirk that said he knew he was good in bed. The promise of dirty sex sparking in his eyes. It was hypnotic and he knew it.
But this Brody...his face was open, his gaze wide. Knowing. His forehead absent of lines and his lush lips the slightest bit slack.
He got it. He understood the gift his dog was giving him and received it with awe and reverence.
He cleared his throat and his eyes turned glassy. So did mine. “I’m...do you see this? She’s never done this before. Never asked me to pet her.”
I grinned. “It’s a wonderful thing to feel, isn’t it?”
“I...yeah. I think I just fell in love.” His lips quirked to one side as he stroked CC’s cropped ear.
Avoiding touching the dog so as not to shift her focus to me, I rose and sat on the leather sectional to get some much-needed distance. “I’m pretty sure you were already in love. Now you realize it.” Brody’s nod was small, his smile, adorable. “You need to spend as much time with her as possible to build on this bond. Encourage her to follow you around the apartment. I’d like to give you two a couple days’ bonding time before our next session, but I want you to move her out of the guest room into your bedroom. Dog packs sleep together. You want her to think of you as her pack. We’re going to put an ex-pen and a soft-sided crate in there for you. I have one of each in the car. You can borrow mine until you get your own.”
“What’s an ex-pen?”
“An exercise pen. It’s a gated area to give a dog room to get out of their kennel but limits where they can go.” I whipped out my phone, started searching the web. “Give me your number, I’m going to text you the link for a crate. It’s a bad idea to put her back in the wire crate in the guest room because she associates it with fear. We don’t want you forcing her into a fearful state right now. The ex-pen will serve two purposes. It should give her the security she feels with confinement, while keeping her from tearing your stuff up. I’d move anything valuable out of your room.”
Brody rattled off the numbers and I texted him the link. “Should be able to get it in few days’ time. I’m also going to text you links for some helpful products, like floor cleaner and big dog poop pads.”
“Am I always going to have this pen in my bedroom?”
“No. In time, you’ll be able to keep her in the crate without the pen. It will become her safe place. Dogs are den animals. She doesn’t want to relieve herself in her kennel and we want to keep it that way. Yet, we can’t crate train her like we would with a puppy because she may have never known life outside of one until she escaped.”
Something was perplexing me about CC. Her ears were cropped and her tail, docked. It wasn’t likely a mill would go to the trouble with their breeding stock because the buyer would never see the dog. Which meant CC was either born in the mill and they docked and cropped her because they had planned to sell her as a puppy. Or, she came from a decent or backyard breeder and somehow ended up in a puppy mill.
“When the new kennel arrives, we’ll be able to start working on housebreaking. As long as you’re home, let her wander with you and explore. If you need to use the treats again to get her to follow you, that’s okay, too.”
“Treats are my friend, yeah?”
“For now. After a while you won’t have to use them anymore except for new things. Before I leave, we’re going to put on her collar and leash. She’ll scratch at the collar but don’t take it off. We’ll try taking her outside, too, to see how she does on leash. I’m also going to give you a few basic commands to start working on.”
I put a hand on his shoulder and the hard muscle beneath flexed tight. “There will likely be setbacks, Brody. This process is two steps forward and one step back for most dogs. Some dogs make leaps and bounds. Some take baby steps. Some never recover, but I’m quite sure CC is going to be okay. She’s smart, motivated, and starved for contact she didn’t even know she wanted.”
He pushed his huge body up on the sofa with his triceps, let his elbows rest on his knees. Shaking his head, his voice was nearly a whisper. “I just...what the hell is wrong with people? I’ll never understand how they can be so cruel. For the sake of money.” I understood the sentiment more than he knew. CC curled into a ball between his spread ankles. This man...there was so much worry and concern on his face. Maybe not all the time, or for everyone, but when it came to his dog, Brody was a softie.
No, I didn’t want to know this side of Brody. This face. It made me want to let my guard down. To see the man underneath.
“This is why I work with dogs,” I reminded myself and told him at the same time. “Dogs are loyal. Guileless.”
“Truth.” Brody’s chuckle set CC’s ears to twitching as her nub tail gave a wiggle. She liked the sound of his laugh.
I did, too. Which meant it was waaaay past time to wrap this up.
After I brought up the ex-pen and spare crate, I offered to help him set them up before I left. Miiiiistaaake , I thought, as he pushed the door open. The scent of fabric softener, men’s soap, and unicorn tears hit my nose. His bedroom was large. Of course, it would have to be to accommodate the bed...which I couldn’t stop staring at. All garnet and charcoal sheets with a gray leather headboard. In the corner, next to a floor-to-ceiling window, sat a buttery leather recliner of the same color. Next to it, a table stacked with books.
I could see him there, shirtless—no, naked—on top of the sheets with it all hanging out as he air-dried from the shower and watched Sports World on the ridiculously expensive TV across from the bed.
Jesus, I needed to get out of there before I threw myself at the man and rode him like a horse at the Kentucky Derby.
As I squatted to adjust the pen’s gate, I heard a thick inhale and shot upright realizing I’d just made my ass his focus. Brody stood at the end of his bed, feet spread, biceps bulging, arms crossed over his chest. The expression on his face was not flirty Brody. But damn if the promise of filthy sex wasn’t written in every shadow and contour. From the lined forehead to the clenched jaw. A quick glance at the sheets, however, and all I could imagine was blond hair fanned over his crimson pillow.
Brody’s smirk turned downright dirty. Yeah, no. Time to go, Lily. I not-subtly-at-all rolled my eyes. “Stop.”
“Stop what?” His grin grew.
“I am not that girl, Brody. I’m not the leggy blonde I was just picturing there.” I pointed at the pillow. “And you are in a shit-ton of trouble as it is for sticking your dick into a few too many women. Frankly, I’m not sure where that thing has been.”
His mouth fell open and he barked out a laugh, but I kept on. “Rather than dancing around it, I’m going to come out and say it. Yes, we have chemistry. Yes, you’re shit hot and you know it. But, if you’re going to help me find this mill, there isn’t a chance in hell we’re getting into that bed.”
“Oh, darlin’. First, nobody but me has ever been in that bed. Second, my dick is immaculately clean. I get it, though. You see things on TV, or hear it through the grapevine. I’m not going to say it wasn’t true at one time.” He shrugged a massive shoulder. “People grow up, Lil.” Brody turned and walked to the doorway, giving me a shot of that spectacular ass. “However, I happen to agree with you. If I’m gonna help you find this mill, us sleeping together is off the table.”
He refused to give me an inch to get through as I slid through the doorway. I had to choose—I could contort like an idiot to avoid touching him and give him the satisfaction of watching me try. I could ask him to move, essentially letting him know I didn’t think I could control myself if I touched him—which, to be honest, was a real concern. Or, I take his dare, and either rub my boobs against him or brush my ass against his junk.
Boobs, it was.
“But...” He glanced down at my nipples pearled against his rib cage as I attempted to shimmy by. “Don’t think for a second that I’m not gonna enjoy every dirty thought I have about you.”