Avery would stir with a sleepy sound, pressing back into me. I’d kiss her awake, slowly, taking my time as I roll her onto her back. I’d be inside her before either of us was fully conscious.
A sharp whine behind me punctures the fantasy. Reality is this painful, frustrated erection that has nowhere to go.
I rake my fingers through my hair. I don’t fucking get her. The moment we cross into territory that actually matters, she runs.
And that's bullshit.
Last night wasn't just sex. It wasn't just attraction or convenience or whatever excuse she's telling herself right now. What we have is different, and she knows it.
I’ve never felt this way about a woman. Ever. She's possessed me even though I know she thinks I’m a fuck up.
She’s probably right, but she makes me want to prove her wrong.
“Alright, crew,” I announce to the puppies, who are now awake and looking at me expectantly. “It's breakfast time.”
What follows is twenty minutes of chaos. I measure out food portions while six puppies weave between my legs, whining and jumping. Trouble somehow manages to knock over his bowl before I even fill it.
The outside potty break is another adventure. My building's courtyard at 8:30 AM is thankfully empty, but herding sixpuppies on leashes is like trying to conduct a symphony with spaghetti.
They want to go in six different directions, investigate every smell, and generally ignore any concept of bathroom etiquette.
“Come on, we talked about this,” I mutter as one of the pups tries to eat a leaf instead of handling his business. “The sooner you poop, the sooner we can go back inside where it's warm.”
By the time we get back upstairs, I'm exhausted.
Practice is in two hours, and I should be resting. Instead, I'm googling puppy training tips. Twenty minutes later, I give up.
I can’t do this. I need help.
I pull up the contact info from the shelter where I got the puppies and call them.
“Hi, this is Liam. I adopted six golden retriever puppies from you yesterday. I need a recommendation for a reliable dog sitter. Like, immediately.”
The woman on the phone is enthusiastic. “Oh yes. How are they doing? We have a list of excellent pet care professionals. Are you looking for someone to come to your home or daycare?”
“Someone who can come to my home. I have to go out in a couple of hours, and I need someone who can handle them.”
“Let me give you a few names. There's Olivia. She's wonderful with puppies and has experience with multiple dogs. She might be able to come on short notice if she's available.”
I take down Olivia's number and call her immediately. To my relief, she answers on the second ring.
“Olivia, my name is Liam Novak. I got your number from the shelter. I adopted six golden retriever puppies yesterday, and I desperately need help. Any chance you could come by this morning? Like, in the next hour?”
There's a pause. “Six puppies? That's ambitious.”
“Tell me about it. I'm a professional hockey player, and I have practice at ten. I can pay whatever your rate is, plus extra for the short notice.”
There’s a pause before she replies, and I’m bristling with impatience. “I appreciate the call, but six puppies are a significant commitment, especially with the level of care they need at that age.”
My stomach sinks. “I understand, but I'm really in a bind here. What if I paid you five thousand a week?”
There’s a sharp inhale from the other end. “I'm sorry, did you say five thousand?”
“Yes. Five thousand a week. I travel a lot for games, and when I'm home, I have unpredictable hours. I need someone reliable who can be flexible.”
I'm pacing now, two of the puppies following at my heels. “I know it's a lot to ask, but I'm willing to pay for the inconvenience.”
“That’s an incredibly generous offer.”
