Page 28 of The Game Changer (Knights of Passion #3)

Chapter

Nineteen

S avannah stepped out of her Suburban and immediately smoothed her hands down the front of her red pencil skirt, flicking at tiny strands of dog hair clinging to the fabric like unwanted reminders of her real world.

Her blazer clung slightly in the humid Georgia morning, the blouse beneath modest but snug.

She tugged at the hem, then checked the black camisole underneath one last time.

No buttons today—those had betrayed her too many times.

No risk of one popping open during a pitch. Not today.

She crouched beside the car and angled her face toward the side mirror, assessing her makeup. Her reflection stared back, lips painted in the bold red Colleen insisted screamed confidence, eyes wide with nerves she tried to blink away. This was as good as it was going to get.

Truth be told, she’d rather be up to her elbows in a kennel cleanup than standing in a boardroom with a forced smile and PowerPoint slides. These meetings never got easier. If the dogs didn’t need her, she’d delegate this kind of thing to Colleen every time.

Colleen’s familiar Kia pulled up beside her, and she stepped out, businesslike and brisk in navy blue. Savannah’s best friend was a natural in this world—married to a contractor, managing his office, effortlessly professional in a way Savannah envied.

Colleen gave her the once-over, then nodded. “You look dynamite in red. Total power suit moment. Most women couldn’t pull that off.”

“I’m sweating in places I didn’t know I could sweat,” Savannah muttered. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Colleen chuckled. “For the dogs.”

Always for the dogs. It was the only thing that got her through days like this.

The only thing that had ever made sense.

When she was a kid being dragged across states by her reckless, chaotic mother, it was the dogs who’d greeted her without judgment.

Dogs didn’t care about hand-me-down jeans or slurred speech at parent-teacher night.

They didn’t ask questions, didn’t leave.

They just loved. That kind of loyalty deserved to be returned, no matter how uncomfortable a business meeting made her.

An hour and a half later, Savannah clenched her jaw while Tom Clark—owner of the largest chain of pet supply stores in Georgia—scrutinized their proposal with the dispassion of a loan officer reviewing a risky application.

Their presentation had been thorough. Their numbers were solid.

Their mission was clear. Still, he looked unimpressed.

“You’ve done good work,” he said, finally setting down the packet. “Better than most new rescues. Your fosters are reliable; your transport routes north are efficient. Your adoption events are well run.”

Colleen smiled politely. “We appreciate that, Mr. Clark. We’ve built a strong foundation.”

Savannah narrowed her gaze. She could already hear the but coming. “But?”

Tom arched a brow. “But?”

She offered a wry smile. “We both know that’s not why we’re here. Words of encouragement don’t build kennels or buy vet care. You’ve read our proposal. We’re asking for a partnership to build something sustainable. You haven’t commented on any of that.”

Tom exhaled and folded his hands, resting them on the table.

“You’re right. What you’ve outlined is admirable.

A no-kill sanctuary, community training programs, service dog initiatives…

It’s ambitious. Noble, even. But it’s not realistic.

Not with your current fundraising levels.

You’ve done some shirts, a few crowd-funding pages, small events.

That’s not enough to support expansion.”

Savannah’s spine stiffened.

Tom continued, “If you had a high-profile sponsor, a spokesperson with reach—someone to vouch for you publicly—you might gain traction. But as it stands… small rescues are everywhere. Yours doesn’t stand out enough for me to risk an investment.”

Savannah leaned forward, heat prickling under her collar. “You could be that partner. You have reach. Resources. Your name carries weight. You could help us build something extraordinary.”

Tom’s lips twitched. “Maybe I don’t think I’m big enough for what you want to build.”

She didn’t blink, holding her breath as silence hung between them.

But he only smiled—sadly, almost kindly—and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’ll continue to let you host adoption events. But until you bring in someone with a national or region-level presence… I can’t commit.”

Savannah stood slowly, purse slung over her shoulder, disappointment crashing over her like a wave. “Right. Because all worthy causes come with celebrity endorsements.”

Tom spread his hands. “It’s just business.”

Colleen jumped to her feet and grabbed Savannah’s arm before she could fire off a response. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Clark. We’ll be in touch.”

But Savannah couldn’t stop herself. She yanked free. “It’s not just business. Not to them. These dogs have no one else. Some of them were left chained in backyards, beaten, abandoned, tossed out like garbage. They don’t care about spreadsheets. All they want is a chance.”

Tom didn’t even look up. “And that’s why your rescue will always be small, Ms. Monroe. Passion without strategy isn’t sustainable.”

Outside, Savannah didn’t stop until she reached her SUV. She leaned against the door, chest heaving, jaw locked tight. “That son of a bitch,” she muttered. “He cares about profits, not animals.”

Colleen laid a hand on her arm. “He’s not wrong, Savannah. He’s a businessman. Investors. Payroll. If he makes one emotional decision and it backfires, people lose their jobs.”

“I know. I know. But it doesn’t make it right.” She let her head fall against the warm car and closed her eyes, disappointment washing over her like a weary blanket.

Colleen hesitated. “What if you asked Dylan?”

Savannah whipped her head around, fixing a hard stare on her friend. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on. He could help us.”

“No.” Savannah’s voice was firm. “Everyone asks him for something. I’m not doing that.”

“But—”

“No.” Her chest ached. “There has to be another way.”

Colleen didn’t argue, but her voice softened. “What if there isn’t? Talk to him. He might want to help.”

“I’m not using him.”

“Even for the dogs?”

That one hit hard.

Savannah sagged against the car. Colleen’s words echoed what Tom had said inside. Business versus emotion. Strategy versus heart. She’d always believed her passion was enough. But maybe it wasn’t anymore.

Colleen gave her one last hug. “Think about it. And text me if you want to borrow that black wrap dress for your date. It hugs your hips in all the right ways.”

When her friend drove off, Savannah slid into her Suburban and stared blankly through the windshield. Across the parking lot, a banner for their weekend adoption event fluttered in the breeze.

So many dogs. So little time. So few resources.

And she had a choice to make.

She braced her forehead on the steering wheel, eyes burning. She hadn’t realized it until this moment, but she was falling—had already fallen—for Dylan Prosser. The man who cooked her breakfast, who made her laugh, who made her feel… safe.

A man who hadn’t said he loved her. Who might be gone in a month if the team traded him or his contract shifted. Could be gone any day, in fact. His world was fluid. Hers was rooted in this town, these dogs, this life.

Asking for his help might crack the fragile thing growing between them. But not asking might doom the rescue she’d built from scratch.

And worse… if he found out she hadn’t asked—out of pride, or fear—would that do even more damage?

She closed her eyes, heart pounding. How do you protect your heart when it’s already slipping out of your control?

And was love worth risking everything else you’d built to survive?

She didn’t know. But she was going to have to decide. Tonight.

S avannah stared at the bed and the growing mound of discarded clothes now half-burying Carl.

The poor dog lay flat on his side, head on his massive paws, his expression long-suffering as he sighed deeply—loudly—then closed his eyes in sheer resignation.

She held a floral maxi dress against herself and turned toward him.

“Well?” she asked.

Carl didn’t even open one eye.

With a groan of frustration, Savannah tossed the dress onto the heap and collapsed beside him with a dramatic wail. “Ugh! This is impossible.”

“Big plans tonight?” drawled Lucy from the doorway, a bottle of beer cradled in her hand, all sarcasm and shadows.

“Dinner with Dylan,” Savannah muttered into the dog. “And I don’t know why I said yes. He’s out of my league. He wants things I don’t have time for.”

“Then don’t go.” Lucy shrugged, unconcerned.

Savannah snapped her head up. “Right. Because life’s so easy for you. You don’t give a damn about anything or anyone, so yeah, must be nice.”

Lucy’s expression shuttered, and she pushed off the frame. “Fine. Don’t expect help from me.” Her voice was low, wounded, and before Savannah could take the words back, Lucy muttered, “Colleen just pulled up,” and disappeared down the hall.

Savannah winced. Dammit. She’d pay for that later. But for now, she had bigger problems—like what the hell to wear on a date that was not supposed to be a date. Even though deep down, she knew she was already lying to herself.

Colleen swept into the room a second later, a bundle of options cradled in her arms. Carl took one look at the incoming fabric and decided it was time to abandon ship. He bolted after Lucy, tail tucked low in retreat. Traitor.

Colleen dumped the armload of clothes on the bed and planted her hands on her hips. “Seriously? This is what you own? You’ve officially spent too much time in mud-covered jeans and dog hair. Where’s he taking you?”

Savannah shrugged. “He didn’t say. Just dinner.”