Chapter Two
Ryder woke just before his alarm the next morning at a few minutes to five. He didn’t know why he even bothered to set the bloody thing. His body clock was a finely-honed machine after eighteen years of being a farm kid. Rising with the sun and getting a dozen chores done before setting off for school.
He may not have lived at home for eight years, but some things were ingrained.
And even if that hadn’t woken him, his regular-as-clockwork, five-in-the-morning stiffy would have. He stretched as he wrapped his fingers around it, thinking about the lovely Juliet. Her flushed face and blue eyes. The soap suds on her cheeks. The way she’d looked at him like he was Tiny’s problem not the other way round.
The way she’d laughed.
He wondered what she looked like in a bikini. It was obvious she spent a lot of time on the beach. Her hair had the distinctive yellow gold streaks that resulted from constant exposure to salt water and sunshine and her skin was kissed a gorgeous golden brown.
The original Aussie beach bum.
He slid his hand up and down his cock, picturing her in a sexy little two piece, her full breasts barely contained by two patches of fabric. Did she sunbake topless so there’d be none of those annoying strap marks? Or would there be two white triangles on her breasts when he finally got her naked because god knew, he wanted that.
He groaned at the thought, his balls aching, the muscles deep in his ass stirring. Unfortunately remembering Juliet meant remembering Tiny and, as if on cue, a bump from outside preceded a heavy thud.
His Achilles twinged. He shouldn’t have been able to feel it at all today. He wouldn’t have had he not been dragged around Coogee by a possessed puppy. He sighed, removed his hand from his deflating cock, and rolled out of bed. He needed to eat, shower, take Tiny for his morning constitution, and head to Henley, the Sydney Smoke home ground, for training.
Griff didn’t tolerate tardiness and Ryder had no desire to have his balls handed to him today. With any luck he’d get to use them tonight after puppy preschool if Juliet was open to having a bit of extracurricular fun.
But first he needed to investigate that thud.
Ryder stepped into the hallway to discover Tiny sitting in the middle, his tail wagging in greeting and what looked like a goofy smile on his face. Despite Tiny’s size, his behaviour, and the sheer impracticality of having him here, Ryder felt stupidly happy to see his big, dumb face.
For about two seconds. Until he saw the offering at Tiny’s feet. A steaming mountain of crap right in the middle of the hall runner.
Ryder blinked. He’d never seen so much dog doo in his life. What the hell had they been feeding him?
Bricks?
But he was impressed despite himself at the solid, symmetrical swirl. Like the turd emoji. Or like a Mr Whippy truck had backed in and dumped a load of chocolate.
Ryder looked from Tiny to Turd Mountain and back to Tiny again. His smile got bigger and Ryder shoved his hands on his hips. “That’s your good-morning-here’s-a-pile-of-crap-I-left-you-in-the-hallway look?” Tiny didn’t seem to have an opinion on the matter. “You couldn’t have at least done it on the floor boards?”
Ryder sighed and stepped around the giant offering, heading to the kitchen for a plastic bag but pulling up short as he rounded the corner into the lounge room. Tiny pulled up beside him and sat once again.
Together they surveyed the carnage. Ryder glanced at the dog. “What the hell?”
He looked at Ryder with an everything just suddenly exploded, I swear expression.
The place looked like a mini cyclone had been through. His ochre-coloured one-seater was completely destroyed—fabric and stuffing strewn from one end of the room to the other. The throw cushions, which he admittedly hated but his mother bought him every year for Christmas in an attempt to pretty things up, had also been gutted.
His pile of sports mags had been chewed and munched and strewn all over, several pairs of his shoes had been gnawed, the Elephant palm that some chick had bought him for feng shui—or some bullshit like that—had been upended and shredded like a plague of locusts had swept through.
His school sporting ribbons were like colourful flags amidst the detritus. The collection of trophies he’d earned over the years lay like fallen monuments on the ground. His mother had brought them with her, two at a time, until he had them all.
He picked up the one nearest his foot. It was an under-fourteen trophy for best and fairest. It was cheap and tacky—nothing compared to the chunks of silver he played for at an elite level, but his mother was as proud of it as she had been of last year’s premiership trophy.
Ryder noticed the figure on top was missing. He stared at Tiny. Oh hell to the no…
“Please tell me you did not swallow this?”
The dog stared back for long moments, before opening his mouth, ducking his head and dropping something to the wooden floorboards. Ryder crouched and picked it up. The fake gold plastic dude was covered in teeth marks and slobber but completely intact.
“Is this because I wouldn’t let you sleep with me last night?”
The dog had been lying on his bed when Ryder had switched off the game tape he’d been watching and headed to his room. It wasn’t the first time Ryder had slept with a dog—practically every night of his life on the farm, one cattle dog or another would warm his feet. But Tiny took up a hell of a lot more space.
Ryder had ordered him out. When that hadn’t worked, he’d dragged him out and shut the door.
“You have a perfectly good basket. In the laundry.” No wonder it’d looked pristine as Ryder had passed by if the bloody dog had spent its night redecorating instead of sleeping.
Ryder changed tack. “What do you think Juliet is going to say when I tell her about what a bad dog you’ve been?”
Tiny ears lowered and he hung his head. Bloody dog was a flirt. Ryder sighed, eyeing the destruction one more time.
“Any other turds amongst this mess I need to worry about?”
Tiny barked. Ryder had no idea if that meant yes or no, but he didn’t have time to go looking right now. One thing was for sure, there was no way he was leaving Destructo Dog alone in the apartment. Not if he wanted one to come back to.
Tiny was coming to training.
Ryder made it to Henley with five minutes to spare. Tiny made quite the entrance, loping into the locker room before being properly announced, startling four of the Smoke’s top players as they sat on the central bench, strapping up their boots.
Bodie Webb, Ryder’s best mate and known to all as Spidey, jumped onto the bench, adopting a ninja stance. “Jeeesus.” He glared at the dog then at Ryder. “What the ever lovin’ fuck is that?”
“New girlfriend,” Lincoln Quinn joked. Linc may have finally succumbed to monogamy, but his smart mouth hadn’t changed any.
Everyone laughed, but Ryder was not in the mood. “He’s a boy, douchebag.”
“Hey.” Linc shrugged. “That’s cool. New boyfriend, whatevs.”
There was more sniggering. Bodie climbed down from the seat. “Where the hell did you find that monster?”
“Val conned me.” There was a collective groan. Nobody had ever been able to say no to the coach’s daughter.
Tanner Stone, the team captain, folded his arms and stared at Tiny who was sitting calmly, tongue lolling. “Why in hell did you bring it to training?”
“Because I’m worried he’ll eat my entire apartment if I leave him alone and trust me, cleaning up one turd pile today is more than enough. I’ll tie him up in the shade at the northern end. It’s just for a few days. Until she can find someone else.”
Donovan Bane approached, letting Tiny sniff his hand before he caressed the dog’s head. At six four he was the only one who truly dwarfed Tiny. “I hope he’s not a digger or Ray’s gonna be pissed.”
Dono’s gift for understatement was a beautiful thing. Ray was the chief groundsman and nothing came between him and the perfect pitch come game day. Ryder had no idea whether Tiny was a digger. He hadn’t sat still long enough yesterday to test the theory. It seemed zigzag running and unleashing general carnage were his main attributes.
In which case he probably was.
“I better not stand in any dog crap out there,” Dexter Blake grouched.
“Harper still disinfecting everything?” Tanner asked.
Dexter nodded. “And it’s still two more months before the baby’s born. She’s like a crazy woman.”
John Trimble, father of three, clapped Dex on the back. “It’ll pass, trust me,” he advised sympathetically. “As long as she’s not asking you to dip your cock in bleach before you do the deed, just smile and nod.”
There was a collective wince as every man in the room appeared to be considering the prospect of a caustic agent near their junk. Even Tiny seemed to wince.
“I think we’re forgetting who’s going to be the most pissed off,” Bodie said after he’d unwinced his face.
Ryder hadn’t forgotten and he didn’t need Spidey to remind him that Griff was his biggest obstacle. And not just because of the distraction from his training routine. No. He’d be epically pissed over Ryder fraternising with Valerie.
The coach, whose relationship with his daughter was strained to say the least, had never approved of Val socialising with the team. Unfortunately for Griffin King, his daughter lived, breathed, and slept the Sydney Smoke and she was just as stubborn as him.
“Ten bucks Coach makes you run some extra laps.”
Linc of course. But the others soon joined in. Tiny’s head angled from side to side, apparently trying to keep up with the growing pool which quickly climbed to a hundred bucks.
“What makes you think he’s even going to know?” Ryder demanded, which cracked up the entire locker room. The coach knew everything. “Seriously, if I go out now and get Tiny settled down at the north end, how’s he going to find out? We never go down that end.”
As long as Tiny didn’t bloody bark. Or crap too much. Ray could smell dog shit from a mile away.
The room suddenly went quiet, the laughter evaporating as the hairs on the back of Ryder’s neck stood to attention.
“He’s behind me, isn’t he?” Tiny barked and Ryder shut his eyes.
“Did someone forget to tell me this was bring your dog to work day, Davis?”
Ryder turned. Griffin King was a huge lion of a man. Tall and fit and strong, his grizzled face surrounded by a great woolly mane. He’d been a brilliant rugby player in his day and an even better coach. One of the best damn rugby coaches in the world.
He was one of those old school, tough-love coaches, but he got results. As Griff said, if they wanted hugs and hand holding, they could go back to their mummies.
Ryder swallowed. “No, Coach.”
“Is that your animal?”
“Temporarily, yes.” No way would he rat out Val.
“Is there a reason why it’s here?”
“It’s kinda a long story.”
“Good. You can recite it to yourself when you’re doing an extra ten laps.”
Ryder’s Achilles twinged. “Yes, Coach.”
Griff’s gaze shifted beyond Ryder’s shoulder. “Well, come on you lot. We haven’t got all day.”
And he turned on his heel and left.
The sun was getting lower as Ryder let Tiny drag him up to the off-leash park on the headland. There was no Achilles pain this afternoon despite the incline, so icing it yesterday had definitely worked.
The air was still warm, but the stiff breeze had cooled as the day faded. The view over Coogee Bay and the ocean was breathtaking, the horizon emblazoned with layers of pink and orange and gold. But Ryder only had eyes for the woman with sun-streaked hair and a golden tan.
She was in some kind of clingy active gear. Black tights that came to just below her knee, a form-fitting bright yellow tank top that squeezed, hugged and lifted her breasts like breasts deserved to be squeezed, hugged, and lifted, and a bright orange pair of sneakers.
A black bum bag was clipped around her waist, the pouch sitting snug between her hip bones. The wind was doing its level best to whip her hair from its pony tail, strand by strand.
She was laughing with an older couple as they all gazed down at a black Labrador puppy currently attacking her fluorescent pink shoe laces. She crouched to pet him and the dog rolled onto its back, splaying its legs and exposing its fat little belly for a rub, which Juliet did without hesitation.
It seemed like the lovely Juliet had that effect on all males and Ryder took a moment to enjoy the view of her tights stretching across her ass. For as long as Tiny let him anyway. The Great Dane had also spied Juliet and was barking his joy as he tore off in her direction.
“Tiny!” He used the tone of voice that would normally freeze a cattle dog to the spot but had zero effect on the Great Dane. “Sit!” he called to no avail.
Several of the class participants grabbed their cute little balls of fluff out of the way as Ryder resisted the pull, trying to slow the dog’s trajectory. Unfortunately one of them recognised him, calling out, “Hey Ryder, good game on the weekend,” as Ryder skidded by.
He waved and smiled. It had been a good game. He’d scored two tries. But that was the last thing on his mind.
“Tiny.” Juliet’s firm voice brought the dog to an abrupt halt, much to Ryder’s immense relief. “Sit.”
The damn dog sat and Ryder threw a dark look in Tiny’s direction until he realised the dog’s head was level with Juliet’s chest. No wonder he’d been so eager to obey.
The dog wasn’t a flirt. He was a pervert.
“Good puppy,” she crooned, cradling his head again, squishing his jowls, Tiny’s wet nose smooshed into her breasts.
Fuck’s sake! The dog was getting more action than he was.
She unzipped the bum bag, reached into the pouch and pulled out what looked like a small doggy treat, offering it to Tiny with a, “Who’s a good boy?” Tiny’s big pink tongue swiped it up in one long lick and she kissed his snout.
Ryder cocked an eyebrow. “So that’s how you get men to do your bidding.”
She laughed, still looking into Tiny’s eyes. “By calling them good boy and offering them treats?”
Ryder smiled. Her laugh made him happy. Hell, just looking at the woman made him happy. “Works for me.”
She flicked her gaze to him, strands of her hair whipping across her face as she dropped her hands from Tiny’s face. “You turned up.”
Her eyes seemed the deeper blue of the afternoon ocean now and her gaze was open and honest. No artifice, no walls, no agenda. And so clearly pleased to see him Ryder lost his breath for a beat or two. “I said I would.”
“You did.”
“See, you have me well trained and you didn’t even have to feed me.” Or scratch his belly. “Tiny, on the other hand, has been a very bad dog.”
Tiny’s ears had pricked up at his name but flattened again at mention of his misdemeanours, his head bowing. If ever there was an example of a hang dog expression, Tiny was wearing it.
“Oh no.” Her voice was light with humour as she anchored some loose hair behind her ear. “What did you do, Tiny?”
The dog glanced up briefly before casting his eyes down again in a very good impression of remorse. “He destroyed my lounge room last night.” Tiny whined as if he couldn’t bear to have his crimes repeated. “It took me three hours to clean up the mess this arvo.” Another apologetic whine. “And he crapped in my hallway.”
Juliet’s face broke into a big smile which she bit back as she frowned at the guilty party. “Oh no, Tiny.” Any degree of reprimand in her voice was totally counteracted by the way she was stroking the dog’s ears. “Such a bad, bad boy.”
Tiny, clearly not remotely chastised, angled his head for more, his hind leg trembling in ecstasy. Ryder’s wasn’t far behind, his brain filling with images of a naked Juliet, telling him he was a bad, bad boy, pulling at his ears as he went down on her.
His dick twitched. “You can scold me like that any day.”
She shot him a secretive smile before returning her attention to Tiny. “Whatever are we going to do with you?”
“Maybe we need a…private lesson?” Hell yeah. Awesome idea. Sometimes Ryder’s brilliance stunned even himself. “Do you do those?”
“I could be persuaded.” Her cheeks pinked up and damn if that didn’t turn him on, too. “Probably only need the one,” she said, glancing at him.
Ryder wasn’t sure if that was some kind of chick code for a one night stand or if she was actually talking about the dog. He was up for either.
“Tiny’s attention-seeking behaviour is an easy fix,” she said as if to explain. “It could be worse.”
“Worse than destroying my lounge room?”
“At least he hasn’t tried to hump anyone yet.”
Juliet cocked her head in the direction of a German Shepherd who was currently getting cosy with someone’s leg while its apparent owner tried to pry him away.
Ryder glanced at Tiny, who hadn’t taken his eyes off the lovely Juliet. Given the amount of times his head had ended up in her cleavage, why bother with humping?
Why be so obvious when he could use stealth?
“He’s a repeat customer,” she whispered, a smile in her voice. “This is his third time. Horniness is much harder to cure.”
Ryder laughed. “Amen to that.” He cringed as the German Shepherd went back for more. “I think what he needs is a sex addict class, not a preschool.”
“God…can you imagine? It’d be like herding cats as they all tried to out hump each other.” She laughed, obviously picturing it in her head. “But I’m totally suggesting it to the boss.”
He laughed, too, and it suddenly felt like they were the only two people on the headland with just the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks far below. But then someone called her name and the spell was broken as she checked the time.
“Time to start.” She petted Tiny’s head, smooshing his face into her cleavage again. “Show him how it’s done, big guy.”
Tiny looked at Ryder as she walked away, his smug smile saying it all. That was how it was done.
Ryder enjoyed the half hour on the headland as Juliet put all her charges and their owners through their paces. She was a gilded flash of energy as she flitted about in front of the setting sun.
There were worse ways to spend an afternoon.
Tiny—of course—was on his best behaviour, performing all the commands asked of him without fuss or hesitation. He was the best-behaved dog in the group, drawing praise from all the humans, doggie treats from Juliet, and an attempted humping from Rufus the randy German Shepherd.
But Ryder wasn’t fooled. He’d seen the destructive force of Tiny’s split personality up close.
So had his living room.
Twilight had fallen by the end of the class, the first stars twinkling in the velvety purple dome, the sea a dark, shifting mass below. The participants moved off relatively quickly after Juliet called it a night, everyone except Ryder.
She smiled as she approached him, her top and shoes glowing in the fast-fading light. “I think your dog is faking it.” She glanced at an obedient Tiny still sitting at Ryder’s feet as she stopped in front of him. “Being bad, that is.” She pulled off some strands of hair that had stuck to her lips and tucked them behind her ear.
Ryder knew damn well Tiny was faking it. Faking being good.
“He’s obviously very well trained. He’s probably just confused about being handed around a bit and is acting out.”
Ryder didn’t think Tiny was confused at all. That dog was smart as hell. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was enjoying putting Ryder through the ringer then acting all butter-wouldn’t-melt whenever a chick walked by in case he got to lick a cleavage or two.
He was evil. An evil fucking genius.
“I think it’s you he has an issue with.”
Ryder’s laughter was whipped away by the stiffening breeze. “Oh I know it is.”
“And why’s that, do you think?”
She folded her arms under her breasts, which did interesting things to them in his peripheral vision. It took all his willpower not to drop his gaze. Not to step right up to her and cup them. Not to drag her top off and watch the breeze chill her nipples.
“Because I’m missing certain…attributes.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Patience?”
He shook his head slowly, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on her face. “Breasts.”
She seemed taken aback for a moment, but then burst out laughing. “He is a bit of a flirt, isn’t he?”
“A bit?” Ryder scoffed at the understatement before finally succumbing to the urge to check out her chest. Her nipples were two hard points dead centre of each breast. His mouth watered as he dragged his attention north again. “Still…can’t fault his taste.”
A smile flitted across her mouth. “I don’t think he’s the only flirt here tonight.”
Ryder shrugged, completely unabashed. “Is it working?”
“It might be.”
The smile touched the corners of her mouth and Ryder wanted to see it some more. “You want to call into the pub for a drink?”
Her eyes danced at his invitation. “I’m pretty sure not even the pub would admit this great lug.”
Ryder glanced down at butter-wouldn’t-melt Tiny, still on his best behaviour. The pub was one of those casual beachside places that had maintained its laidback atmosphere despite the massive gentrification of the area. A person could wear their togs into the beer garden and nobody would notice.
But they might notice a horse.
“True.” Ryder figured he could take Tiny back to his apartment and meet her at the pub, but he didn’t want to come back to a steaming dump in his bed, either. “I have beer in my fridge. If you…wanna come back to my place?”
Ryder was surprised to hear the words slip out. He never asked women back to his place. Not until things got serious anyway. It wasn’t any secret that he lived at Coogee Beach and local residents no doubt knew his building, but, whether he liked it or not, he did have some celebrity status and had learned to protect his privacy.
That all went out the window with Juliet smiling at him. He should have been panicking, trying to retract, but he really wanted her to say yes. So did Tiny—his tail thumping enthusiastically. He held up three fingers in a close approximation of the Boy Scout salute. “I promise to be the perfect gentleman.”
“Well…” She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, as if she was giving the invitation serious thought, but her eyes were sparkling. “I have always been a sucker for a gentleman.”
Ryder’s dick twitched. “That a yes?”
She smiled. “That’s a yes.”