Chapter 7
MILES
The heated water runs over my chest, tracking a myriad of tiny paths over my aching, weary body. Hose duty is always a killer on high-rises. Tonight was no exception. I rub the soap-on-a-rope that Heids gave me last birthday as a joke over my aching muscles.
Joke’s on her, I love this thing.
So fucking practical.
The fact it’s a pink unicorn hasn’t deterred me one bit. It smells like flowers, and that always gets a chuckle out of Sandy. Heids just shakes her head. I read the gift as a dare, and there is no way I’m backing down from it, especially since it puts a smile on the crew’s faces.
The unisex bathroom is comprised of six shower cubicles. We have four half baths in the house. Two on the other side of the lockers, and two downstairs. Someone else walks into the showers, snapping the partition door closed in the cubicle beside me.
The water starts and the soft thuds of clothes hitting tiles and items being moved around are just audible over the stream of water I send my head back into.
A soft moan, a sound I’ve never heard before, comes from the stall by mine.
It’s not Heids—she’d either be singing badly or talking my ear off by now. My towel hangs over my door; she’d recognize it.
Tennison wouldn’t.
The water is all of a sudden too hot.
Another little moan slips from the space beside my cubicle. I clear my throat.
“Um, hello?” she says softly.
Fuck, that’s worse.
I swallow, racking my brain for something to say that’s not awkward as hell when we’re both naked and she’s moaning like she’s—
Christ.
And now I’m hard.
I slam my eyes shut.
“Okay, don’t talk to me. Same old story, Hammond.”
My eyes fly open.
“This where you have all your conversations, Tennison?”
She huffs a laugh. “Not usually, no.”
A little of the tension defuses.
Then she sighs, and the sound goes straight to my cock.
Fucking hell.
I rinse off and dress quicker than a man ever has before. Without a word, I stalk for my room, leaving Tennison to shower by herself.
Like I should.
I lay down to catch a few hours before the next shift takes over. But after tossing and turning with an erection that won’t let up, I give in and pad downstairs to the gym.
Pushing through the door, I find Sandy on the shoulder press and Heids on the rowing machine.
“Can’t sleep, Cap?” Heids says.
“Never saw the point, actually,” Sandy says. “Only to wake up and go home to bed.” Despite his words, he looks exhausted. We all do. The last few hours of a twenty-hour shift are brutal. Things will be a little easier when the sun comes up in . . . two hours. Until then, I’ll occupy myself.
Anything is better than a boner over a probie.
On that inappropriate thought, I up the weights on the leg machine before dropping into the seat.
I pump the plate up with a vengeance, hoping the more reps I do, the further it will push London Tennison from my goddamn head.
Before long, I’m drenched in sweat again.
So much for my damn shower.
The second I cross the threshold, a furry, trembling mass flies at me.
I drop my bag to the floor and squat. “Hey, girl. How was your first night alone?”
I may have started off tentative about this new relationship, but after Tennison’s meltdown over my poor pup-parenting abilities, I’m determined to make this wor—
Ah, shit.
Literally.
The second the smell registers, I scan the room, finding not one little—well, not so little—surprise, but two.
“You couldn’t wait, hey?” I stand and head for the kitchen. To the paper towel and disinfectant spray.
A few minutes later, I’m holding a bag at arm’s length, a leash in the other as we make our way to the dumpster behind the building before heading to the playground across the street from my apartment block.
The morning is bustling with small kids playing on the equipment, running across the grassy area, and moms pushing strollers back and forth, chatting away or scrolling on their phones.
Petal trots toward them like they’re her damn people. I have to redirect her to the grassy area away from the strollers.
She’s probably craving some female attention after being in the shelter with Tennison and her buddies.
“Sorry, girl. Bit of a boys’ club in my world.”
She ignores me, sniffing the trunk of a tree before dropping her quarters.
“Again? How much can one pup put out?” I say to Petal, who has shuffled to find the best spot, apparently, flat-out ignoring me.
An older lady walks past in her Lycra and windbreaker, glasses sitting on the headband that holds her mass of wiry grey hair at bay. She winks at me.
I smile back with a small wave. People are always friendly in this city. More than I ever thought they would be, growing up here.
Petal finishes up, and I shorten the leash and turn to head home.
“You’re going to pick that up, right?” one of the moms sitting on the closest bench says, her face dead serious.
Hell.
I run a hand behind my neck. I didn’t think to bring a baggie.
“Yeah, I don’t have a bag . . .” I utter, sweeping Petal up into my arms.
The woman stands, her friend taking her coffee from her as she does.
She rummages through her tote and hands me a sandwich bag with what looks like the remnants of the sandwich it was once holding.
“Use this.” She holds it out. “The bin is on the other side of the park. You might remember that for next time.”
I take the bag from her, and she gives me a forced smile before going back to her seat, her coffee, and her friend.
Christ.
I pad back to the tree and contemplate all the ways I don’t want to handle pup poop.
“Put your hand in and grab it up,” the woman calls, cupping her hands to make the sound travel better.
Geez.
I’m the most useless dog parent on the planet. Maybe Tennison has a point.
Putting Petal down, I slide my hand into the bag, bend, and pluck up the poop. Now what?
“Invert the bag!” the woman calls, laughter lining the last few syllables.
Gagging, I do as she says.
Good lord, who thinks pet ownership is fun?
They’re mad.
Inverting the bag, I twist it closed and shake my head at Petal. She shrinks down and ducks her head.
Instantly, I feel like shit. Shaming her for a basic fucking need.
Time to do better, Hammond.
“Come on, girl.” We cross the park without further incident and make a deposit in the round bin.
Doing the loop of the park, we stop every other step so Petal can smell the things she finds. Everything seems to be fascinating to this girl. It’s kind of endearing. The innocence she has about the world. The complete trust she has in me already.
The timid, terrified pup I held the day we met is gone. If anything, she has become boisterous and unconcerned about my personal space. What’s mine is hers. I guess it’s nice to see the change.
The older woman in Lycra slows, panting as she glances to Petal. “First time?”
I chuckle. “That obvious, hey?”
“You’ll get the hang of it. Not much different to your girlfriend, I’d say. Lots of love and affection and the feeling of safety. She’ll be yours for life.”
My brows rise toward my hairline. “It’s that easy?”
She winks at me. “Possibly. Don’t overthink it. If you ask me, you’re overfeeding her.”
I stop in my tracks.
“I see everything, young man. You at the dumpster behind her apartment and then her needing to go again, too much food. One cup a day of dry kibble and maybe a chicken, rice, and veggies meal each morning. Like I said, don’t overthink it.”
“You have dogs?” I ask, as we start walking the path.
“You could say that.” She smiles, patting my shoulder. “See you round, Petal.”
I stop dead.
But the old lady is back to her run, waving as she races ahead and out of sight. Who said New York was a big place? Seems to me it’s more like a small world kind of vibe.
She must work at the shelter? Be a friend of Tennison’s?
Whatever the case, I’m grateful for the advice.
The wind whips up, and I feel revitalized in a way I’ve never been after a shift before. Maybe it’s the interaction with the older lady. Maybe it’s my new companion. “You wanna run, Petal? Stretch your legs, girl?”
I take off at a slow jog to see if she’ll move alongside me. As she falls into a steady trot, I pick up the pace, and she lopes along.
Maybe this will work out, after all.
Thirty minutes and another pit stop for Petal later, by the bin this time, I’ve leaned on the kindness of strangers once more for a baggie. A young couple walking a pair of poodles were kind enough to lend a hopeless dog dad a spare.
We walk home, me feeling more confident, and Petal happy as a pig in mud as she wags her tail, her tongue lolling in her head with every pant.
A shower and a rest sound like a good reward. A couple hours’ sleep always peps me up enough to return to the daytime routine normal people of the city live by.
We trot into the building, taking the stairs. Sliding the key into the door, I unlock it, and we walk in. Petal pulls out of my hold and jumps onto the sofa.
“That your spot, is it?” I say, raising a brow. She simply stares back at me with those brown eyes that remind me of the dark hues of someone else’s gaze.
With that thought, I tug my shirt from my back and pad to the bathroom.
The shower bursts to life, and I strip down.
Making quick work of washing up, I slide grey sweatpants up and run a hand through my hair to tame the damp locks before trudging to my bed.
My California king that’s like sleeping on a damn cloud cost a small fortune, but a man needs his sleep.
Especially when he has to run into burning buildings for a living.
I flop onto the mattress and groan when my weary body sinks into its heavenly softness.
“Fuck a man sideways, this is . . .”
My eyes fall closed before I can finish the thought.
Something wet slides over my cheek, pulling me from a deep sleep ever so slowly.
Again.
And again.
I crack one eye to find Petal standing on the bed beside me. Her wet nose pushes against my cheek. Her tongue travels the length of my jaw before I raise a hand and pat her head.
“Yeah, I’m awake. I’m awake.”
I sit up and drag myself to the edge of the bed.
“You need to go out again?”
She doesn’t move.
“Come on, Petal. There’ll be hell to pay if you have an accident on my bed. Down. Now.”
She blinks, not moving.
I know you understand me. Cheeky girl.
With a sigh, I drop back on the bed.
“You can’t sleep in the bed, Petal. Down,” I say, rubbing her head before pointing a finger at the door.
She bunts my hand with her nose when I remove my touch.
Her shaggy coat flings outward as she shakes and settles down on the bed.
“Hell, if I end up with fleas in my bed, kiddo . . . ”
I lay down on my side and slide my hand under my head on the pillow. She nudges my ribs with her cool wet nose, before dropping onto the duvet and curling up against my side. I turn my head to check the time.
13:16
“Too early for this, girl.” A yawn slips.
My stare is stuck on the ceiling as I mull over my newfound responsibility. Petal was not someone I expected to have in my life.
I’m career driven. Focused to the point my social life is the three guys I catch up with once a week and my crew. That’s it.
No plans for a relationship—with a puppy or otherwise.
Then again, we all know what happens to best-laid plans.
But now is not the time to be distracted. Hell will freeze over before I let Schmiddy end up the captain of 53. The house would be shut down in weeks if he ended up in charge.
I roll over, laying an arm over Petal’s small body. She tilts her head back, licking my throat. I wipe the dampness away, letting sleep drag me back under. The rhythmic presses of her body breathing, her coat against my chest, fades.
How quickly I gave in.