19. Bruce
CHAPTER 19
brUCE
Between “sit” and the gushing feedback from my staff about how “friendly” Colossus was when they saw him today, my chest fills with pride. I also feel kind of dumb because this is my dog learning basic dog niceties, not my son graduating cum laude.
Realizing I’m still petting the dog in front of Lilly and that she might disapprove of that for some dog trainer reason, I rise to my feet.
Hmm. She is looking at me strangely, but I don’t know if that’s condemnation or something else.
“Would you like to take a break?” I ask.
She cocks her head, a mannerism she no doubt learned from one of her fluffy students. “From what?”
“From him.” I point down.
Her eyebrows come alive and meet in the middle of her forehead. “Why?”
I suppress another wave of irritation. First, she’s been pretending like that out-of-this-world kiss never happened, and now she’s questioning my attempt to be cordial.
“I’ll be videogaming,” I grit out. “Colossus likes to sit on my lap when I do that. Or at least he does when I read. I figured?—”
“The proper verb for playing video games is gaming,” she chimes in. “That’s what us ‘kids’ are calling it nowadays.”
I turn my back to her. “I’m going to go do that, and my dog is coming with me.”
“He’ll need to get walked soon.”
She sounds disapproving of being given time off—and they call me a workaholic.
“I’ll do it,” I say and feel my cock stirring as I recall how she taught me the dog-walking technique.
She huffs in grudging agreement.
As I stride away, for a second, I wonder if Colossus might choose to stay with her instead of go with me. She’s fed him a lot, and as it turns out, his affection is easily bought.
But no.
I hear that signature clickety-clack of tiny nails on hardwood floors.
Wait.
I look down.
Yep.
The sea of pads has been removed. I guess Mrs. Campbell trusts him now—or trusts Lilly to do her job. Either way, a deal is a deal, so I take out my phone and make sure Lilly gets that bonus I mentioned to her.
When I enter the media room, I don’t even get a chance to pick up the console before a videocall from my mother appears on my phone.
Setting Colossus on my lap, I accept the call. “Hi, Mom.”
Mom’s face looks eerily like Angela’s—or is it more accurate to say it’s the other way around? Biology obviously plays a small part in their likeness, but the larger and stranger resemblance came about after my sister convinced Mom to use her plastic surgeon. Or was that the other way around?
“Brucey, sweetie, how are you?” she asks, and though she hasn’t smoked in forty years, she sounds like she never quit.
“I’m well. How about you?” I angle the phone to show Colossus on my lap, and predictably, instead of answering my question, my mother gushes about how cute “her grandson” is for what feels like an hour.
“My break will be over soon.” I tap the watch on my wrist. “Was there any specific reason for your call?”
What I don’t add is that usually, there is.
“Can’t I call my son whenever I wish?”
I’m not sure if this one is biology or a plastic surgeon’s doing, but the way Mom purses her lips is identical to the way my sister does it.
I sigh. “Obviously, you can .”
“Good,” she says. “Though it just so happens that I did want to talk to you about something.”
Called it.
She smiles mischievously. “Or should I say… someone?”
Some people can’t keep their fucking mouths shut. “What did Angela tell you?”
“That you got yourself a very pretty dog nanny,” Mom says. “And that Angela disapproves of her already.”
I scoff. “I’m not sure there’s a woman in the world Angela would approve of.”
Mom nods sagely. “I trust your judgment of character, so if you like this woman, I will too.” I can hear the unsaid bit— especially if that means grandchildren .
“Lilly is just an employee,” I say firmly.
“‘Lilly,’” Mom says with an eyebrow waggle that I didn’t think possible given all that Botox. “As in, not Ms. What-ever-her-last-name-is?”
This is how rumors start, so I’d better nip it in the bud. “She insists on being insultingly informal.”
“And you go along with it?” Mom waggles her eyebrows again. “When is the wedding?”
“I’ve got to go,” I say and reach for the hang-up button.
“Wait,” Mom says. “Did I mention that we’re coming over?”
My right eye twitches. “You’re what?”
“Your father and I haven’t seen you and Angela in ages,” she says in a tone too accusatory, considering that “ages” is really two months in my case. “Since the two of you are going to be in the same place for once, we decided it was the perfect time to visit.”
Since I’m rendered speechless, I simply nod as Mom tells me their itinerary—my acceptance a foregone conclusion.
“Are you excited?” she asks when she’s done.
“I am,” I say with a sigh. “But I’d better get back to work. There’s a project I’m very passionate about that?—”
“You’re always passionate about your work,” Mom says disapprovingly. “What is it this time?”
I explain to her how a cryptocurrency of my own making will help us bring banking to parts of the world where it is otherwise difficult—and she gives me her thoughts on this as a philanthropist herself.
“Thanks,” I tell her when she’s done. “But don’t get me wrong. I intend to make money from this in the end.”
“If your making money enriches people’s lives, why not?” she asks.
I smile. “Exactly.”
“I’d better let you go,” she says. “But do make an effort to reply to my emails.”
“Sure,” I say. I’ll have to delegate said task to someone besides my assistant because he is squeamish. Maybe his assistant? More than ninety percent of the videos my mom sends to people are grisly clips of someone getting their pimples popped. In fact, she is so obsessed with this disgusting activity that she went to medical school and became a dermatologist specializing in that one specific “treatment.”
“Don’t forget to spoil my grandson,” she says with a grin. “See you soon.”
With that, she hangs up.
I take Colossus outside using the leash techniques Lilly taught me—the ones that will be giving me wet dreams for years to come.
I’m not sure if it’s the new skills, or the dog’s training so far, but the walk goes smoother than in the past.
When I get back, I set the puppy on the floor and meet his gaze. “Ready to go back to Lilly?”
He becomes excited, which strongly suggests that what he heard was, “Want a snack?”
I let him follow as I seek Lilly out, but she’s nowhere to be found.
“You’re a dog,” I say when I’m close to giving up. “Find Lilly.”
Tail wagging, Colossus runs forward. I follow, but I’m pretty sure he’ll lead me to his favorite place—the kitchen.
But no. We pass the kitchen, the media room, and the library before heading down a corridor into the gym—a place he’s rarely, if ever, been.
Curious.
I enter the room.
Oh, fuck.
Lilly is here—and she is doing yoga. Specifically, downward dog. Or to put it another way, she’s bent over at the waist like she’s ready for a hard fucking.
My breath hitches.
Her firm ass looks mind-bogglingly good in those tight yoga pants. Unbidden, a pornographic movie plays out in my mind’s eye, one where I go into caveman mode and rip those yoga pants into shreds.
And there it is. A hard-on to rule them all. I’ve never taken Viagra, but I bet this is what an overdose of it would feel like.
As if taunting me, Lilly transitions into a yoga squat—or what she’d look like in reverse cow girl if she was bouncing on my cock.
Enough. I’m being a perv. It’s best to back out of here before she notices me, so I can run straight into a cold shower.
I take a step backward, but it’s too late. Tail wagging, the dog rushes over to Lilly’s yoga mat. In an eyeblink, he’s on his back in front of her, begging for a belly rub.
Lilly stands straight, then scans the nearby mirror until she spots my reflection. She then kneels (causing another cock twitch) and scratches Colossus’s belly. “Where did you ditch Bruce?”
“I know you saw me,” I growl.
“What’s that?” She puts her ear next to Colossus’s maw, like she’s listening to him whisper something—and gets her ear licked for her trouble. “Ah, yes. He can be a real grouch.”
“Very funny,” I grit out.
Finally, she turns to me. “What are you doing here?”
I’m about to tell her that the dog led me here when I realize that may sound like a made-up excuse for being a peeping perv.
No. I should think of a better reason to be here.
And then it hits me.
I’m in the gym, so I might as well burn off some of this energy flowing through my veins. True, it might not be as effective as a cold shower, but it’s better than nothing—and either way, I’m going to be late for my meeting.
Thus decided, I announce, “I’m here to box.”
Lilly’s eyebrows seem to dance a little jig—like two cute caterpillars that are on their way to turning into the most beautiful butterflies in the world. “Prudence mentioned that you box.”
“She did?” I walk up to the nearby stand and grab my boxing gloves. “Does everyone here think nondisclosure agreements are just polite suggestions?”
Lilly winces. “I was obviously joking. She didn’t tell me a thing. I read about your boxing online.”
“Nice try.” I take out my phone and tell Johnny to move the meeting I’m almost late to as is. The one good thing about running my own company is that, unlike everyone else, I don’t have to show up to meetings unless I wish to. Of course, usually, I do wish to.
“Well,” Lilly says. “You do your thing, and I’ll try puppy yoga.”
“Puppy yoga?” I ask. “Is that related to the puppy pose?”
“No,” she says. “It’s exactly as it sounds: doing yoga while there are puppies around. They get very curious and cuddly, and for obvious reasons, such yoga can be really soothing.”
She gets into the cobra pose—chest out, back arched, arms in a push-up position, and lower body on the mat.
Predictably, Colossus thinks what she’s doing is all about him, so he jumps on her lower back and sniffs her butt.
I can’t help but smile. “Do puppy yoga classes incorporate the dogs into the poses?”
“They do, and so will I,” she says, still staying in her position. “When I do the corpse pose, I’ll encourage him to get on my chest, and during lotus pose, he can be on my lap.”
Lucky dog. “I’m okay with this so long as Colossus is happy—and he’s obviously having a blast.”
“Great,” she says. “I can do this daily if you’d like.”
“Just tell me when,” I say firmly—so I can avoid coming here at those times going forward, obviously.
“Will do,” she says. “Now go do your boxing.”
Ah. Right. Except I have a problem. I don’t have my usual tank top on. Or shorts.
Then again, she doesn’t know what I wear for this. I have boxers under these slacks that can pass for shorts, and lots of folks exercise shirtless.
There. Lilly goes into child’s pose, which means she can’t see me. Quickly undressing, I put on the gloves and get into my stance in front of the punching bag.
As I start the warm-up part of the workout, I realize that my ending up here in the gym was actually fortuitous. Between the kiss that I wish to forget and the family visit that is looming on the horizon, I’ve got a lot of pent-up energy—and this is a great way to burn it.
In the corner of my eye, I spot Lilly transitioning into the bridge pose.
Fuck. How can a move out of an ancient spiritual practice look so much like a scene from Showgirls ?
I rip my gaze away from my dog’s trainer and place it firmly on the punching bag. Inhaling sharply, I let the air out with a hissing sound and smash my fist into the bag.