I peeked sideways as I pushed the elevator call button. “Yes. And a certified canine behavior specialist.”
A grin crept over Brody’s face.
No! My mouth fell open. Not long ago, Brody had made the news when his dog bit a pet sitter. “Are you... Erica?”
“Yep.” His smile was enormous. “Well, she’s one of my neighbors, but yeah. My publicist made the appointment for me. I had no idea it would be you. She always gives my neighbor’s name and address to make sure I don’t get psycho fans knocking on the door.”
No. This cannot be happening. The elevator opened, and we stepped in. Not no, but hell no. I needed to get through his dog’s evaluation and recommend another trainer for Brody to work with. Given my body’s reaction, Brody’s reputation with women, and his affiliation with the Dallas Bulldogs, this was a really bad idea.
Really. Bad. Idea.
Chapter Two
Everything happens for a reason.
Sometimes the reason is that you’re stupid and make bad decisions.
Brody
After pushing the button for three, I leaned against the adjacent wall and watched as Lily pinched the bridge of her nose and repeatedly mumbled the word no under her breath. Goddamn, she was cute as hell. She smelled a little bit like pee—I’m guessing dog. Her glossy black hair was in complete disarray, and she had dried drool on a green polo shirt that said The Unruly Dog Training Center, along with some kind of stain on her pants.
That road rage of hers, too...when she flipped me off, it cracked me right the fuck up. I didn’t know it was her in the little SUV. She’d been weaving in and out of traffic, running up on people’s bumpers or slamming on her brakes. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was letting her over in front of me. When she realized it was me, the expression on her face had been fucking priceless.
Lily Costello was a tough nut to crack. Gorgeous—I’d always thought that—and her ass was something to behold, all round hips and cheeks with a softness that I really, really wanted to squeeze. Not that I would without her permission. Texas gentleman, born and bred. Besides, with Lil, it would for sure get me nutted. I always seemed to seek her out at team functions—even after I’d learned she was the GM’s stepkid. I knew I shouldn’t. Not smart to have the hots for the GM’s stepdaughter. But she was something to behold.
The first time I’d met her, she hadn’t smelled like pee. Instead, she’d smelled like some exotic flower that drove me insane. It wasn’t until I smelled it on another woman that I asked and found out it was jasmine. On Lily, the scent was darker, headier, sexy as hell. As far as I was concerned, the scent was Lily’s alone. I couldn’t smell it without thinking of her. She’d had on a deep purple dress that night. With silver studs. It left her soft, strong arms bare. Thighs of the same composition peeked out of her hemline. Again, with that ass in the form-fitting dress, and I could see the outline of a small belly under the fabric.
She had a wicked sense of humor, not an ounce of pretension, and she rarely bit her tongue with me. I’d gone home with some completely forgettable jersey chaser that first night. I had to. To try to rid myself of the scent, the sound, the sight that was Lily.
Something she’d called me on the second time I ran into her. The thought made me smile. We were at a team fundraiser, expected to mingle with the guests in order to give them their money’s worth. Instead, I’d spent half the night trying to find her face in the crowd. When I finally did, she’d playfully busted my balls about asking for her phone number and then going home with someone else before we’d talked a bit about her dad’s playing days and the structural superiority of waffles to pancakes.
Things flowed so easy for us. It didn’t matter what we talked about; we fell into a rhythm. She was never nervous or forced, she didn’t stroke my ego or tell me what she thought I wanted to hear, and she sure as hell wasn’t starstruck. More like the other way around.
She was real, unrehearsed, and I was in awe.
Yeah, I was for damn sure attracted to Lily Costello, but my brain was on board, too.
She was my magnet. “Am I really so bad, Lil?”
Her dark blue gaze snapped to mine as she tucked loose hair behind her ear. “No. Sorry. I’ve had a bad day is all. Is this the dog that made the news?”
“Yeah. I’ve only had her a couple weeks. She was wandering outside the practice facility, limping, skinny as hell, and skittish. Got her to a vet and they had to muzzle her to clean her up.” The wound on her foot had been badly infected, and she’d had two clusters of ticks attached to the skin above her tail. But the wound on her neck had nearly sent me into a rage. She’d been knifed. Like somebody tried to slit her throat. The vet had bathed her, removed the ticks, and put her under to clean and stitch the wounds. She was so damn scared in the vet’s kennel it broke my heart, yet the warning in her eyes was all you don’t wanna fuck with me, buddy.
I understood that look on a gut level.
Hiring the pet sitter was a stupid idea. I absolutely blame myself for that. When I couldn’t get the dog to go outside to pee or poop, I should have hired a pro trainer right then. Instead, a friend told me to try a dog sitter when I wasn’t home for the day to clean up after my girl. I paid the guy’s hospital costs—which were as extensive as antiseptic, Band-Aids, and a precautionary round of antibiotics—as well as offering him five large because I felt bad. Hell, he returned to work the same day. Then he realized who I was, and the scratch on his forearm became a traumatic event.
Now he wanted a seven-figure settlement.
The elevator door slid open on my floor, and I motioned for Lily to go first, wondering what kind of panties she had on under those pants. What would that ass look like bent over my couch?
My dick twitched. Fuck, don’t go there. I was already on thin ice with the Bulldogs, and my no-trade clause was contingent upon my conduct. I was sure after all the shit I’d stepped in lately that banging the GM’s stepdaughter would be crossing the line.
The fantasy suite scandal had been an epic clusterfuck that was still in the news. I’d been in the downtown Dallas hotel that night, but when my teammates started getting naked with those chicks, I took off.
My reputation with women wasn’t great, I freely admitted it, but I didn’t screw around anymore. I hadn’t in a while. Boring Brody didn’t sell magazines, and the girl from the fantasy suite who’d tried to blackmail us had doctored the pictures, inserting me into the thick of things. I owned that I’d been there, but I left before shit went sideways. The fact that the news broke only a couple months after I slept with someone who turned out to be the team owner’s granddaughter didn’t exactly help matters with the organization.
She never told me who she was, and it was a one night thing when I’d needed to blow off some steam.