Gracious. I know the feeling, bud.
“Who names them if they don’t?” I ask, pushing away that thought.
“I don’t know,” he mutters. Bruno slowly walks to him, and Maverick doesn’t rush the dog. He just waits patiently there on his knees, sitting back on his feet, holding out a gentle hand.
If only he had the sort of patience for people that he seems to have for animals.
Bruno closes the gap, and when he gets close enough, he sniffs Maverick. The tail wagging picks up a bit, and Maverickshifts his hand slowly to scratch the dog under his chin. The wagging picks up even more, and then Bruno moves closer to Maverick, nuzzling his neck. Maverick doesn’t crack a smile. I don’t think he eversmilesorlaughsor feels any sense of joy whatsoever, but I see something change as the dog snuggles into him.
He seems somehow lighter. The storm cloud that seems to follow above him lifts. The clouds part, if only for a moment. I see a different side to him as he strokes the animal’s fur, a softer, sweeter side that he keeps hidden away.
“That’s a good girl,” he croons.
My thighs clench at his soft words. My stomach clenches, too. I’m pretty sure my vagina even clenches.
I imagine him saying those same words as he slides into me. It’s just a flash of an image, one I immediately push out of my head, but my good God, what in the hell is this man doing to me right now?
“Bruno’s a girl?” I ask, my voice too loud in the small room as I try to pull myself together, and both the dog and the man jump a little, startled, as if they forgot I was in the room with them.
He lifts a shoulder. “Someone named her Brunhilda, and the staff took to calling her Bruno for short.”
So Bruno the girl is apparently a good girl, Maverick Jennings has a soft side, and I’m supposed to try to work with this man and whip him into shape when my usual badass self is suddenly turned all the way on as I see him cuddle a poor animal down on its luck. Great. Right. Okay.
I force the ridiculous thoughts away and pull that badass cape a little tighter.
“How long has Bruno been here?” I ask.
“A few months. She was found walking by the road. No chip, no tags. Nobody knows where she came from or whatshe went through, but she’s quiet and sweet. Everybody wants pups. It’s harder to find a forever home for these older dogs.”
I kneel down beside them, staying far enough away so as not to disrupt their moment. “How do you not take them all home?”
“It’s hard, to be honest. But then I think of my lifestyle, in and out, gone for long stretches, and I know I’m not the right fit. Someday I’ll figure out some way to connect these animals with their forever homes, but for now, I’m giving what I can.”
“A little bit of time goes a long way, I’m sure,” I say softly. “You’re doing a good thing here, Maverick.”
He grimaces a little. “Yeah, well, don’t tell anybody. Wouldn’t want to ruin my reputation.”
I chuckle a bit at that. He tosses a ball a few times for Bruno, and then we head toward our next assignment with the two big boys brought in this week—two mastiffs that weigh more than I do. I’m a little afraid of mine, to be honest, but Maverick walks in front of me, and I have the gentler of the two on a leash behind.
He mutters to his dog, little phrases I can’t quite catch from up here, but one thing is clear.
There’s more to Maverick Jennings than I first thought, and I’m ready to figure out how I can use this other side of his to my advantage.
CHAPTER 17: Everleigh Bradley
Freight Train
Nearly a week after our shelter visit, Dr. Baker clears him for full practice, which means he’s also cleared to start bonding with his teammates—a fact I point out on the way to the weight room where he plans to start today.
In the last six days, he’s been adamantly against me tellinganybodyabout his work at the shelter. It’s a closely guarded secret, but I can’t really figure outwhyhe wouldn’t want to use it to his advantage. Still, I respect his wishes—even if I keep pressing it.
“Find at least one other guy you can talk to during workouts today,” I suggest. “We need to start building bonds for you to become the kind of leader Jack is looking for, and that begins with at least coming off as semi-approachable.”
He looks at me like I’m stupid. “Workouts are individualized to each player, and Adrian is meetingwith me to amend the personalized plan he created for me coming off an injury.”
“Yeah, but don’t you, like, I don’t know…shoot the shit with the other players while you’re in there? You know, invite someone to the shelter?” I ask.
“Do I seem like the kind of guy who shoots the shit with anybody? And the shelter is a hard no. That’s mine.”
