18. Lance
eighteen
Lance
Present
Being covered in water, soap, and the smell of wet dog was not on my bingo card today.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have a choice. Gwen really signed me up for the Evaders’ adopt-a-pet project. I assumed it was just a cover to tell her boss, but I was wrong.
Gwen absolutely put my name down to torture me.
Now I’m stuck here, bathing dogs and puppies of all sizes, while she gets to walk around, chatting with everyone and snapping photos of the players volunteering and the animals that need good homes.
But fuck if I don’t love watching her work. Gwen is confident and friendly, and she doesn’t get mad when my boneheaded teammates ask dumb questions. She just smiles and repeats what’s needed from the volunteers.
And the way she is with the animals? It’s fucking adorable.
That happy, beaming smile of hers hasn’t left her face since this morning.
This is how I like to see her. Not huddled on the floor of the conference room, crying.
Seeing her upset brought out this protective side in me, and I was ten seconds away from marching into her father’s office and clocking his chin for disrespecting his daughter.
Gwen squats down to rub the belly of a big, brown-chocolate Labrador and coos, “You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?”
The dog wags its tail, and its tongue flops out the side of its mouth, preening at her attention.
Lucky bastard.
Never in my life have I been jealous of a dog until now. I wish she would bend over and rub my belly. Or maybe something lower. My cock jerks in my jeans in agreement.
Down, boy!
The dog in front of me barks, reminding me I’m supposed to be giving him my attention and not thinking about Gwen’s ass or her touching my dick.
I squeeze the nozzle and guide it over the pup, rinsing the shampoo out of the furry guy’s coat.
After a good cleaning, the dogs are posed—alone and with the players—and then Gwen uploads their pictures to our social media, hoping one of our fans comes in and adopts a dog.
The goal is to find each puppy a good home.
The rescue shelter vets potential owners, and if a fan comes in and adopts, they receive a pair of Evaders tickets.
I never realized the Evaders’ organization was so involved in the community or how expansive its charity outreach was. Don’t know why I was reluctant to volunteer before; this charity is pretty cool, and the work isn’t half bad.
Don’t get me wrong. Washing dogs isn’t easy. My back and hands hurt, and my feet are soaking wet, but it beats putting on a tux and kissing rich people’s asses any day of the week.
Speaking of asses …
My eyes find Gwen’s as she bends over, maneuvers the dog into the position she wants, and snaps a few pictures.
“You’re staring at her again.” Blake elbows me hard in the ribs.
The water hose in my hand slips, spraying a stream across the floor and the back of the moody old man in front of me.
He turns around with a scowl on his wrinkly face. He waves his rubber-gloved hand at me. “Watch what you’re doing, buster.”
Blake stifles a laugh.
“Sorry, the hose slipped.” I reach for the pit-bull–mixed pup in front of me and smile, hoping the old guy cuts me some slack.
“Slipped, my ass. You better watch it, or the only thing you’ll be winning this year is a punch in the nose,” he grumbles under his breath and returns to bathing the dingy white poodle at his station.
“What the fuck, Blake?” I hiss.
“Hey, I didn’t know you were going to lose control of the hose.” Blake roars with laughter. The dickhead.
Sometimes I wonder if this guy has a serious bone in his body.
“Yeah, well, I’m going to spray you with water if you elbow me again.” I hold up the hose.
“Go ahead,” Blake says, waving his arms down his soaking wet and soapy body.
“What happened to you?”
He rolls his eyes and points at the rat-looking terrier in front of him. “This damn fur ball keeps shaking all the soap and water off. I’m over this shit. When can we go?”
When I realized Gwen had signed me up for this event—back before we came to our truce—I added Blake’s name to the list. I didn’t want to suffer alone.
Now I wish I hadn’t. Not only is he annoying me, but he’s … cockblocking me? Talk-blocking me? Whatever you want to call it. I haven’t been able to speak to Gwen without Blake’s whiny ass glued to my side.
“I thought you liked dogs.” Blake mentioned having a pet, and I just assumed it was a dog.
“Fuck no. I’m a cat daddy,” he says proudly, as though I’m supposed to know what the hell that means. “Cats are independent, and I don’t give my cat a bath.”
Fair enough. Cats seem like the easier pet.
“Just dry that dog and you can head out. I’ll cover for you.” I sigh.
“Are you sure?”
I look over at Gwen, who is still petting and snapping pictures of the chocolate lab. “I’m sure.”
“I see how it is,” he says with a chuckle.
I turn to find my friend grinning like a Cheshire cat. Maybe the cat daddy moniker fits him after all. “Fuck off. It’s not like that.”
He puts his hands in the air. “No judgement. Just be sure.”
Blake doesn’t say another word as he finishes drying his hairy client and hands the pup over to Gwen. He chats with her as she snaps a few pictures of him with the dog. He says something funny, and she throws her head back and laughs. Then the bastard leans in and gives her a hug.
Irrational jealousy rips through me, and I’m tempted to fill a bag with dog shit and hide it under the driver’s seat in his car. As if he can hear my thoughts, Blake glances at me over Gwen’s shoulder and winks.
I flip him the bird as he releases Gwen. She’s oblivious to it all as she picks up the terrier and pets his head. Blake blows me a kiss and walks out of the shelter laughing his ass off.
Trying my best to ignore the sense of rejection swirling in my stomach, I take my time drying my new doggy friend.
What is wrong with me?
I’m acting like a sad sack because the girl I like hasn’t talked to me.
Pathetic.
“You would talk to me, wouldn’t you, girl?” I ask my furry friend, scratching her behind the ears. In response, her long tongue falls out the side of her mouth. “Great, now I’m talking to a dog,” I grumble.
“Dogs are good listeners,” Gwen says, surprising me.
I lift my head to find her standing across from me, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, her aquamarine eyes sparkling like gemstones.
My heart stutter-steps behind my ribs, making it ache. “Are they now?”
“Yup,” she murmurs, petting the dog. I watch her, wondering what she’s thinking as she bestows her loving attention on the animal between us.
“When I was a teenager, I used to volunteer here. I’d wash dogs and clean kennels.
Sometimes I’d take the dogs on walks, but my favorite thing to do is just to sit and talk to them.
Dogs never try to fix my problems. They just listen, and all they ask for is some good scratches and lots of cuddles. ”
“So, no dog yet?” I ask, recalling how she loves dogs.
Gwen looks up at me, and the balloon in my chest expands; I’m ecstatic to have her eyes on me. To have her undivided attention. “I can’t believe you remember that. But no. Someday. When I have a house with a yard.”
“Probably for the best. Unless you like small dogs. Or cats,” I add.
Gwen scrunches her nose in disgust. She’s so fucking cute. “Cat? No, thanks.”
“Don’t like cats?”
“They’re okay, I guess. But I feel like every cat I’ve met only wants you when they want you. If my experience volunteering here taught me anything, it’s that if I’m feeling blue, a dog will sense it and try to comfort me. I like that.”
“Man’s best friend.”
“Exactly. Mutual comfort provided.”
“Don’t tell Blake you’re not a cat person. He calls himself a cat daddy. Don’t know what the hell that means, but it sounds ridiculous.”
“I think he means he’s a hot guy who owns a cat.” Gwen chuckles.
“Definitely ridiculous.” I groan.
Gwen throws her head back and laughs. The sweet sound penetrates my skin, her magical claws sinking into my psyche and trapping me in her spell.
The dog licks my hand. “Looks like this hairy lady wants to get down.” I lift her off the table and place her on the floor, gripping the leash in my hand and giving the dog another scratch behind her ears.
“What’s next?” I ask.
Gwen doesn’t answer. I look up to find her staring at the dog licking my hand, and I bite back a smile.
“Gwen?”
Her eyes snap to mine.
“What?” she asks. Her aqua depths darken to a deep blue-green and swirl with an all-too-familiar emotion.
My dick swells as I picture those eyes on me while I bury my face between her legs, devouring her pussy until she comes screaming my name.
“What’s next?” I repeat, my voice rough from my illicit thoughts.
She shakes her head and clears her throat. “Pictures, and then you’re done. Follow me.”
I let her walk ahead of me as I adjust myself. Don’t think I will ever stop getting hard when she’s around.
Gwen stops at the Evaders backdrop she has set up. Her professional side comes out as she instructs me to squat beside the dog and smile. I follow her instructions as she snaps photos.
“This feels awkward as fuck.” I groan as the dog licks my face.
Gwen chuckles. “It’s cute.”
“I look like an idiot.” I wipe the slobber off my cheek.
“No, you look like a person who loves dogs and wants them to have a good forever home. And that’s hot.”
I can’t help grinning at her. “You think I’m hot?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “You know you’re good-looking. All the women on the internet agree.”
“I don’t care about them.” The only woman whose attention I want is standing in front of me. The one whose pretty eyes I dream about every time I close my eyes.
“What do you care about?” Gwen asks. She looks away as if appalled by her own question. A pink flush paints her cheeks.
I don’t know how to answer her question without confusing the situation we are stuck in further.
Do I want Gwen? Like you wouldn’t fucking believe.
But can I have her? I don’t know.
Our situation is complicated. She works for the Evaders. Her father is the damn owner. We would be risking our careers by diving into something we weren’t sure about.
But I can’t deny there is something between us. It was there then, and it’s here now, drawing me in and tempting me to take the risk.
In three strides, I close the gap between us, tucking my finger under her chin and forcing her to look me in the eye.
“I care about you,” I admit, landing on the answer closest to the truth without crossing the line.
“I care about you too, Lance,” she whispers.
After treating her so terribly when she waltzed back into my life, I don’t deserve her words, but I eat them up like a starved man anyway.
The energy in the air shifts as I stare down at her. She tilts her head back, presenting her lips to me like a gift.
Kissing her is a bad idea.
And yet, I slide my hand to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, our chests touching. She’s a lot shorter without her sexy six-inch heels on her feet, so I bend my knees, lowering myself so we’re nose to nose. Lips millimeters apart. I can practically taste her sweet breath on my lips.
The dog beside us barks, and Gwen rears back, breaking the spell we’re both under.
So close.
One of the employees of the shelter enters the room, and Gwen places her hands on my chest and steps back, putting space between us.
Without skipping a beat, she switches into business mode and lets the employee know we are done. The worker takes hold of our kiss-blocking furry friend and disappears down the corridor to return the dog to its cage.
We both turn to face one another in awkward silence, neither of us sure what to say.
Gwen tucks her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Thank you for, uh, coming today.”
“Didn’t really have a choice. Someone put my name down without my knowledge.” I raise my brow at her, trying to lighten the mood.
Gwen grins. “You knew.”
“I thought you were bluffing.”
“I never bluff, Mr. Taylor.”
“Duly noted,” I grind out, fighting back a groan. Turns out, her calling me Mr. Taylor with that sultry voice of hers makes me hard.
Gwen reaches for the backdrop, but I stop her.
“Let me take care of this while you pack up the cameras.”
“Thanks.”
As we gather the equipment, Gwen and I make light conversation.
I listen as she fills me in on the Easter event she hosted for children at the local Boys and Girls Club, where Lucas almost puked in the giant bunny costume he was asked to wear. He was so whiny about the costume’s smell; Gwen said he made the toddlers look well-mannered.
I grin at the thought of Snell shooting himself in the foot where Gwen is concerned.
Good. I didn’t want him anywhere near her to begin with.
When I ask about the will, she tells me that both her mother and grandmother are on her side with the whole will thing and how her mom stopped cooking meals for her father. I like knowing that the women in her family have her back. It’s her father who needs to get his head out of his ass.
Not only are the stipulations sexist as hell, but anyone with eyes can see how amazing Gwen is at her job. How passionate she is about what she does.
How absolutely fucking perfect she is in every way imaginable.
And as usual when I go to bed, it’s her face I imagine before I fall asleep. It’s her body I want lying beside mine.
I’m so screwed.