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And just as he’d suspected, they were models of empathy.

Best continued to hoot, his tall frame bent over, and his shaved blond head the only thing Oliver could see.

Sparks at least had the decency to cover his laugh with a cough. Where Best had the California surfer look, Sparks had eyes as dark as flint and a thick, muscular body to Best’s leaner one.

Sparks recovered first. “So, when is your new keeper supposed to be here?”

Oliver looked up at the clock. “Eleven, so I’ve got about fifteen minutes to kill. You mentioned you could use me, Best. For what?”

“I need another military dog trainer today,” Best said. “Sparks is going to work with the search-and-rescue dogs, and he’s got about five kids he’s training. I have my hands full with eight of my own.”

“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be able to give. It all depends on what this publicist has for me. The last thing I need is for them to report back that I’m not pulling my weight.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, man. They’re going to realize that they picked the wrong guy for this gig, and they’ll probably do most of the work themselves, anyway,” Sparks said.

“And how much do you really think goes into a charity event? Couple of phone calls and boom, you’ll be done, bored, and looking for something to do,” Best said.

Before Oliver could answer, a knock sounded on Sparks’s office door. Best reached out and opened it, his eyes widening a bit.

And then, the sexiest woman Oliver had ever seen glided in, smiling as her gaze landed on each of them in turn.

Then those green eyes met his, and he forgot how to breathe.

“Hello, I’m Evelyn Reynolds, the publicist hired to organize Alpha Dog’s upcoming charity event.” She held her hand out to him, and Oliver took it, the soft press of her palm warm against his. Oliver’s skin suddenly prickled with heat all the way up his arm. “I am so happy to be handling this project. If there is one thing that the world loves, it’s saving animals.”

Oliver nodded, barely listening. He hadn’t exactly known what to expect of his new boss, but it definitely wasn’t a woman who looked like a ’50s pinup model in a polka-dot pencil skirt and black framed glasses. His abuela loved old movies, and he’d watched them with her enough to know what he liked: curvy women with class.

And damn if this woman didn’t fit the bill.

Her dark hair was swept back in some kind of updo—the fact that he even knew that just proved how much having two little sisters had warped his brain. She wore a short sweater over a red top that hugged a set of breasts that would have made a saint stare.

Oliver grinned. He’d never been in the running for sainthood anyway.

“Are you okay?” she asked.


“I was just wondering if you were going to let me have my hand back.” Her tone was brimming with amusement, and one of her dark brows was arched.

Oliver lost his smile and heard Best laugh again. Releasing her, he ran his hand over the back of his neck, knowing he was probably blushing like an idiot.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he muttered.

“I’m Sergeant Sparks, program director.” Sparks had come around the desk, drawing the attention away from Oliver for a second, giving him a chance to get a grip. She was just a woman. Sure, an extremely hot woman, but that didn’t mean he needed to act like an idiot.

“It’s good to meet you,” Evelyn said to Sparks.

“And I’m Sergeant Best.” Best had come up alongside her, and when he took her hand, Oliver saw the wink he gave her. “But you can call me Tyler.”

Oliver caught a growl in his throat. Best flirted with all women, Oliver knew that, but watching him do it with Evelyn twisted his guts up, and it was ridiculous. He had just met her and hadn’t exactly given a great first impression.

“And you can call me Ms. Reynolds, Sergeant Best.”

Oliver scoffed, happy that she hadn’t fallen for Best’s act. And then something struck him.

Reynolds? As in General Reynolds?

“And the slow one is Sergeant Martinez,” Best said helpfully.

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