“No kidding,” he laughed. “I guess I’ll hop on it quickernext time. Which leads me to the reason I wanted to move to something bigger.”He cleared his throat. “I need a dog.”
Just then, Katie appeared in the doorway and stopped in hertracks. Both women looked at him expectantly. “Need a dog?” they chantedtogether.
He held up his hands in surrender. “Long story.”
Paige pointed at Katie. “Katie’s your go-to dog expert.”
Katie plopped behind a desk. “I’m a dog lover from a longline of dog lovers.” Her eyes bounced between T.J. and Paige as a proud smilespread across her face.
Just as T.J. was contemplating for the millionth time what abad idea this was, something wet nudged his hand and flipped it on top of afurry head, startling him. When T.J. looked down, Hugo stood beside him, actingfor all the world as if he wanted in on thisconversation. The dog seemed to smile before bumping his hand again.
T.J. obliged him with a head scratch. He’d always likeddogs. Had always wanted a dog, even after his dad had killed the firstand only one T.J. had ever had. A steely stab, sharp and deep, assailed hischest, sucking air from his lungs. With one clearing breath, he recovered andlocked the painful memory back in the dungeon where he’d buried it so long ago. “Hugo comes to work with you?” he said,his voice a little croaky.
Katie nodded. “Yep. A perk of working for Anderson Homes.”
“I don’t suppose you lend him out?”
She shot him a quizzical look. “Lend him out?”
“Never mind.”
Her puzzled expression quickly morphed into skeptical. “Sowhat kind of dog do you need, and why?”
“I need a Lab mix. Male. For a friend.”
Paige lifted her head and joined Katie in peering at him,questions etched on their faces.
“Can you help me?” he asked.
Katie seemed to appraise him, thensurrendered a sigh. “Virtual shelter time.”
He must’ve looked as flummoxed as he felt because shefollowed this up with, “Shelters have pictures and descriptions of theiranimals online. Let’s see who’s got what so you can figure out where to go.Although, if you’re as big a softie as you seem, you’ll only make it to oneshelter.”
The comment completely threw him. “Softie? Me?”
Hand on her mouse, eyes focused on hercomputer screen, Katie nodded. “Um, yeah.Right, Paige?”
“Yeah,” Paige echoed. “You might be a big, tough hockeyplayer, but we,” she waved her index finger between Katie and herself, “have superpowers that cut through that crustyouter layer and expose your gooey marshmallow center.”
Despite his efforts to hold it in, T.J. let out a laugh thatmorphed into a snort. “And judging from the guy who used to be BeckettMiller, you also possess the power to turn that marshmallow center inside out,am I right?” And that guy is definitely not me.So why the hell am I getting a dog again? He pushed the pesky questionaside.
Katie, whose glasses mirrored an eerie computer-blue glow,craned toward her screen. “Only Paige has the power to turn the mighty Millerinto goo. Speaking of goo, look at this cute guy!”
T.J. rose quickly, ducked around Katie’s desk, and stood beside her, staring at the screen. She was pointing at agoofy-looking black-and-white dog with one ear up and the other at half-mast.
“That’s a Lab?” T.J. frowned at the furry face. “No way.”His attention slid to the right and landed on an all-black face with crossedcopper-colored eyes. He pointed. “What about that one?”
Katie read aloud, “Buddy Boo. Labrador Retriever mix, male,sixty-three pounds, two years old. High-energy guy who needs a walking buddy.”She twisted her head and looked T.J. up and down. “Do you walk?”
“Seriously?” he chuffed. “Can this dog do wind sprints? Heavy rope training? Weight lifting?”
Seemingly ignoring him, Katie turned her gaze to Paige.“Permission to abandon ship this afternoon for a dog rescue mission at the DumbFriends League, boss.”
Paige cupped an ear. “Don’t I hear ledgers screaming forattention?”
Katie shot T.J. a dejected look. “We’re drowning inbookkeeping. I suck at it, and boss lady is even worse. We’ve been looking forsomeone who knows what the actual hell they’re doing, but no luck so far. Whichmeans I need to stay put.”
An idea winked on like a five thousand-lumens flashlight inT.J.’s brain. “I know a bookkeeper. I’ll text you her contact info.” Two sets ofeyes locked on him. “She’s a CPA, and bookkeeping’s what she does. Well, one ofthe things she does. She also dog-sits.” He could barely contain a fist pump;he’d found another way to help Natalie.
“Why don’t you enlist her help to get a dog, thenbring her by here?” Paige posed logically. “That way she and I can chat andfind out if there’s a fit.”
T.J. began backpedaling. “I’m not sure she’s the right oneto help with the dog.”
“Why not?” Katie asked. “Surely a dog-sitter would be onboard for this very important animalatarianundertaking. Unless …”
“Unless what?”
Katie pulled her glasses down her nose and scrutinized him.“Unless you’re just getting this dog as a ploy to meet women at the dog park.”
T.J. swallowed a chuckle. Don’t need a dog, or a park, tomeet women. But to help Natalie out? Definitely.“Dog park? Is that a thing?”
“Have you ever had a dog before?”
An unbidden memory of a dog’s whimpered cries rushed at him,and he pulled in another deep breath to counteract the twisting in his gut. “Weweren’t allowed pets growing up.”
Paige chimed in. “Why get one now?”
“Being suspended means I’ll be around. Seems like the righttime.” He glanced between their suspicious gazes. “I really do like dogs.”
Katie took over the tag-teaming.“What happens when you’re back on the road?”
The third degree. Jesus, hedidn’t like being on the defensive. “Other hockey players have dogs,” he tossedout. “Besides, I’ve got that covered.”
Paige arched an eyebrow. “The bookkeeping dog-sitter?”
“Her name’s Natalie Foster.” He glanced at the ceiling,marshaling his thoughts. “She’s … I owe her. You can’t let her know I’m behindthis. In fact,” he paused a beat, “I need a promise from both of you.”
The women waited expectantly.
“She knows me as Tyler Johnson, and I’d like to keep it thatway.”
They narrowed their eyes.
“T.J. stands for Tyler Johnson,” he offered.
Paige said, “Which still doesn’t explain—”
T.J. threw up his
