I still felt him.
By the time I showered, changed, lost my keys, found them in my hoodie pocket, and made it to the players’ parking lot, my nerves were scraped raw. The afternoon sun bounced off windshields. My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Vanessa had sent a photo oftwo ties and a question mark. Harper had sent a meme about student debt followed by, do NOT send money, weirdo, which meant she definitely needed money. My dad had left a voicemail.
Too much.
All of it pressed in at once until the edges of everything felt too bright.
I stopped beside my car and shut my eyes.
In. Out.
I was fine. I was always fine. That was the whole job. Be fast, be charming, be worth the money, don’t make your mess visible.
“Holloway.”
My eyes opened.
Declan Reid stood a few spaces over beside a black SUV. He had changed into dark jeans and a black jacket, and somehow looked more intimidating out of team gear. He held a leash in one hand. At the end of it sat the biggest dog I had ever seen.
The bull mastiff stared at me with drooping jowls, soulful eyes, and the general build of a refrigerator.
I pointed at him. “That’s not a dog. That’s a security deposit with legs.”
Reid looked down at the beast. “Tiny.”
The dog’s tail thumped once against the pavement.
I blinked. “You named that Tiny?”
“He came with an attitude problem. I didn’t want to encourage him.”
Before I could stop myself, I laughed.
Tiny took that as an invitation. He rose, lumbered forward, and shoved his massive head directly into my stomach.
“Oof.” I grabbed his collar on instinct as he leaned his full body weight into me. “Okay. Hi. Wow. You are dense.”
“He doesn’t usually do that,” Reid said.
I scratched behind Tiny’s ear. The dog’s eyes half closed in bliss. “Because he has taste?”
“Because he has manners.”
“Debatable.”
Reid watched me with that same unreadable focus from the meeting. Up close, his eyes were worse. Not because they were cold. Because they weren’t. There was intelligence there, patience, and something else I didn’t know how to name.
It made me want to move. Talk. Joke. Escape. Stay.
All at once.
“You have a problem with direction?” he asked.
There it was.
I straightened, Tiny still pressed against my thigh like we’d survived war together. “Generally or specifically?”
“Specifically mine.”
