Temptation On Ice (Gods Of The Ice #2)

Chapter 1

One

Tucker

I'm not wearing a tight-ass T-shirt and posing with puppies just to chase clicks and comments.

I don’t care if my sister swears it’s the only way to keep our business alive. I also don't want to give in to the latest fucking scheme she’s telling me about, like it’s God’s gift to us country folk who just want to do an honest day’s work.

“I don't want to do it,” I tell my sister.

“I don’t give a shit, Tucker. As your marketing manager, this is social media gold, and we’re going to mine it like the Seven Dwarfs,” Cami snaps.

“The hell we are,” I say, depositing another scoopful of dog shit into the closest trash bin.

Ten dogs make a fuck ton of shit to pick up.

This is the least glamorous of my tasks for a job that is already so menial in so many ways I shouldn't even bat an eye, and I usually don't, but it’s been harder lately as the bills pile up. I look around the play yard and make sure I’ve found all the latest land mines before returning the pooper scooper to its spot against the barn and heading inside the building, Cami on my heels like a fucking herding dog.

“We won't ever be able to truly get this business off the ground and make money unless we get our name out there. This is how we’re gonna do it. So put on that shirt and smile for my camera, or so help me God, I will feed all these dogs bacon grease and they’ll be shitting their brains out everywhere for you to clean up. ”

She holds up a shirt two sizes too small, which has “HOT DOG TRAINER” printed in large block letters with a cartoon wiener dog licking a hot dog.

It’s phallic and way too sexual, which is Cami’s point.

She wants to sexualize me to bring in the views, to hopefully result in business, and I want no part in this.

I bet Callum had something to do with picking out the shirt.

Blinking in surprise at her egregious threat to the dogs’ digestion and my sanity, I scowl down at the blonde nightmare glaring back at me.

Losing the stare-off, I'm forced to look away to save myself the hideous outcome. Despite looking like a typical Southern belle who could never do such a thing to the dogs or me, I know she’s more than capable of following through with her threat.

Today, she’s in a cropped tee with a dog on it, a pink pleated tennis skirt, and white sneakers she knows will just get dirty out here on my property.

She waves the shirt at me.

I shake my head at her.

My little sister is something else. She’s Dolly Parton mixed with Cardi B, and unlike most people who see my six-foot, large as fuck country boy frame, she’s not afraid of me, despite me being bigger and three years older than her.

No, I have to reason with her since I can’t intimidate her into leaving me alone.

I hate social media, and she knows it, which is why she handles all of that bullshit for my business and the nonprofit I’ve created.

I can’t be bothered to pick up a phone and snap photos of our training progress, the success stories of veterans paired with service dogs, or the other services we offer to the general public.

But Cami is a whiz with all that and keeps the business flowing in, thankfully.

Still, I don't like this latest idea she’s on.

She wants me to prance around for her photos and say yes to some too-good-to-be-true offer that will just take our focus off training.

“Combat Companions is about matching service dogs with veterans battling emotional and physical traumas. I don't need to wear a dumb shirt to get clicks, and we shouldn’t be joining fucking hockey teams as their pet project for some special event that won’t even go anywhere.

This isn’t a good match for the business and doesn’t align with my goals.

I’m serious about our cause, and that shit will make a joke of my work,” I say, unlatching the gate to the kennels as Cami continues to follow me like the shadow she’s always been.

“You obtuse idiot.” She scoffs. “You obviously weren't listening to me when I told you they not only want to partner with us for military appreciation night, which is huge in itself, but they also want to sponsor a service dog for the season as their team dog. That’s steady money for the next eight months, and you need it.” She pokes me between the shoulder blades with her talon-like nails.

“It aligns with your goals because it gets our name out there for donations. You need those to keep this business afloat, remember? Besides, teaming up with the Hydras makes you a more desirable trainer, so you’ll have business coming in that will keep Combat Companions operational.

Without that income flow, you can’t afford to train these service dogs for vets, so there won’t be any Combat Companions for you to worry about. ”

My shoulders bunch as I listen to her assassinate my defenses.

I decide to ignore her as I nod at Rowan, one of the trainers who works for me, as he exits a kennel with Atlas, a Belgian Malinois service dog in training, at his side.

Nodding back, he looks at Cami with his cheeks growing red.

He has a crush on my sister, but he’s been too shy to do anything about it.

I’m not worried about him hurting her because he’s a good guy.

I’ve been waiting for him to grow a pair and make his move while she stays oblivious to his interest. It’s hilarious.

“Hi, Miss Cami, good to see ya,” he says, pulling up on the lead he has on Atlas, halting their progress so we can walk past.

Cami pauses, yanking on my shirt to turn me around.

“Rowan, please tell my stubborn ass of a brother that partnering with the new Atlanta professional hockey team is good for business,” she says, her voice as sweet as Mama’s peach pie.

She’s laying her Georgia accent on thick and batting dark lashes over blue eyes that match mine.

This is a tactic I’ve seen many times before when she wanted to get her way.

Great. Now she’s turning my employees against me.

“The Hydras want to partner with us? That’s amazing.

How’d we get that opportunity?” Rowan directs his question to Cami, clearly understanding she’s the driver of this whole thing.

I make a face at him as Atlas looks up between us and begins pulling on his leash.

I give him a look and the sign for sit, and he instantly complies, settling back at Rowan’s side, licking his lips.

“Thanks for your enthusiasm, Rowan. It’s good to know someone here understands the significance of this offer,” Cami says, jabbing me in the ribs.

“Ow, fuck, keep your stabby fingers to yourself, you damn menace.” I swat at her hand to dislodge her nail from my ribcage. Why did God decide to dump the world’s most annoying little sister on me? It could have been anyone, but I got her.

“The Hydras’ PR department saw our social media, which is brilliant, thanks to me,” she says, not even feigning humility as she smiles widely.

“They love our model and want to partner with our organization for military appreciation night, as well as sponsor a service dog for the season as their team dog. It’s an incredible offer that will not only bring in donations during the special event night and pay for all the costs of training the puppy, but will raise awareness for our cause all season long whenever the dog is at games or on their socials, which will be a lot.

” Her excitement is palpable as she leans toward Rowan and clasps her hands together.

“Hot damn, do we get to go to a game?” Rowan asks, catching her excitement.

Atlas is picking up on his emotions and panting, his head swiveling around as he loses focus.

He’s a sketchy dog who’s only recently entered our program from a local dog rescue and becomes snappy when overstimulated.

The last thing I need is Cami or Rowan getting bitten because they’re excited about something.

I snap my fingers, getting the attention of all three. “Rowan, watch the dog. You’re freaking him out.”

Rowan quickly corrects his hold on the lead and refocuses on Atlas, giving him a heel and then a good before feeding him a treat for following the commands. He looks at me sheepishly.

“Sorry, Tuck. I just think Cami’s onto something here.

We could use a win like this. I know it’s been lean times, and we’re trying to do the Lord’s work out here training up these service dogs, but how long can we do that if there’s not enough money flowing in from regular training or donations?

You can’t just hide away back here in the woods and expect it to happen on its own.

You gotta get out there and do the work for it. ”

“Finally, someone with some common sense!” Cami says, throwing her hands up.

“Rowan, I could kiss you for that bit of rationality.” Rowan’s ears go bright red, and he looks down at his shoes as Cami continues.

“That settles it. Even Rowan sees the good in this. I’ll call Ms. Kresley back and tell her we’re on board and you’re going to be nice about this,” she says, pointing at me as she pulls her phone out of some hidden pocket of the shorts beneath her skirt.

Rowan’s eyes flit down to her legs and then away as she does it, his cheeks growing red again.

“I don’t get a say in what my organization does?” I ask, shooing Rowan away so he can get on with his training activities, and I can finish this conversation with Cami without her having backup. He quickly continues out of the barn toward the training yard with a guilty look.