Page 7 of The Game Changer (Knights of Passion #3)

He padded down the stairs barefoot, shoulders heavy with exhaustion, every step dragging. The kitchen lights glared harshly against his sleep-deprived eyes.

There, in the middle of the kitchen, sat the gray dog—her face tilted toward the ceiling, throat arched, voice raised in a plaintive, keening wail.

“Enough,” he muttered, trying for stern but landing somewhere between tired and pathetic.

She paused, ears twitching, then spotted him. Her tail began to wag, whole butt swaying in rhythm as she skidded across the tile to reach him, paws slapping the floor like overexcited drumbeats.

He squatted, rubbing his eyes before reaching out. “I can’t keep calling you dog,” he murmured, echoing Savannah’s earlier rebuke. “She’d give me hell.”

The dog cocked her head, eyes sharp with interest.

He ran his hand over her sleek fur. “How about Ruth? One of the greatest hitters of all time. Big name to live up to.”

She blinked.

Not impressed.

“Okay… Jackie? Mickey? Yogi?”

Still nothing. She sighed and flopped dramatically onto his lap, laying her chin on his thigh with a long-suffering groan.

He chuckled despite himself. “No baseball, huh?”

He leaned back against the cabinets, the cold tile pressing against his spine, and stared at her—really stared. There was something too knowing in her gaze. Too much soul in those eyes.

His sister’s voice floated up from a dusty corner of his mind. You’ll know the right name when it hits you. Just like we did with Bandit.

He shook his head. Nope. Not doing that.

Naming her made it real. Naming her made her his.

And he didn’t do his anymore.

If he named her, he’d get attached. And eventually, he’d disappoint her—just like he’d disappointed everyone else in his life. Just like he’d failed the first dog he’d ever had. Just like he’d failed his sister. Just like he was failing the Knights right now.

The guilt sat heavy on his chest.

But the dog looked up at him again, those liquid brown eyes full of something dangerously close to hope. And the word slipped out before he could stop it.

“Sadie.”

The sound was barely a whisper, but her head snapped up, ears perked, tail sweeping the tile like a metronome.

Dylan sighed, his shoulders sagging.

“Sadie, it is,” he whispered. She responded with a happy grunt and nosed into his side.

He reached out, letting his hand settle on her head again, rubbing small circles between her ears.

“Just don’t break my heart, darlin’,” he murmured. “Like your namesake did.”

T he morning sun streamed through the windows like it had something to prove, and a loud, guttural snore yanked Dylan out of sleep. He startled, momentarily disoriented. He hadn’t shared a room on the road since the minor leagues. What the hell?

He cracked one eye open.

A wet gray nose and a set of jowls flapping with every snore greeted him at eye level.

“Oh, hell no,” he muttered, rolling onto his back.

Sadie gave a sleepy grunt and sprawled more fully across the bed, unconcerned by his disapproval.

“So much for that expensive orthopedic dog bed,” he grumbled, nudging her with his foot. She groaned in protest, flopping dramatically like he’d wounded her. “If you want to sleep with me, don’t wreck the house next time.”

He rolled out of bed and headed for the shower, determined to shake off the strange mix of exhaustion and irritation—and something else he didn’t want to name.

An hour later, freshly showered and dressed, he sat at the kitchen table sipping coffee, reviewing a three-page checklist he’d made to keep his pristine house from turning into a canine disaster zone.

When the doorbell rang, Sadie barked—sharp, anxious—and immediately cowered, ears flat, ducking like she expected punishment.

Dylan’s throat tightened. He swallowed the urge to shout no and instead walked calmly to the front door and opened it.

Savannah stood on the stoop, flushed from the heat, hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, and a T-shirt stretched across her chest that read I Work Hard So My Dog Can Live Like Royalty.

Her Suburban idled in the driveway, windows slightly cracked, but that didn't stop the four dogs inside from barking their heads off, pawing at the glass like prisoners demanding parole.

“I can’t stay long,” she said, already sounding frazzled. “It’s too hot to leave them in the car.”

Dylan frowned. “We agreed on nine.”

“I know. But my transport’s early, and if these guys don’t make it, I can’t rescue the three from yesterday.”

Her hands landed on her hips—an automatic defense stance—and he couldn’t help noticing how her T-shirt tugged tighter when she did that.

“If you had a fenced yard, I could turn them loose for a few minutes.”

“They’re not coming in this house.”

She scowled. “I didn’t ask to bring them into your showroom house, Dylan. I’m explaining why I can’t stay.”

He muttered under his breath, glancing at his watch.

Below the table, Sadie nudged his leg and peeked her head around to see Savannah. The moment she appeared, Savannah knelt and cooed softly, stroking Sadie’s face like they were old friends. The dog all but melted into her hands.

Dylan groaned—and then cursed silently when she glanced up, right at his groin level. He subtly shifted to the left and prayed she hadn’t noticed.

“What are you going to do about Sadie?”

“Sadie? Oh, you named her! That’s perfect. I love it.” Sadie licked her face, tail wagging so hard her whole body rocked.

Dylan sighed. “Look, I have lists—lots of them. Alarms. Locks. Codes. I’m not comfortable with all of this, and I don’t have time to show you everything.”

Savannah stood and snatched the papers from his hand. “Three pages? Wow, you are thorough. Most of my clients barely remember to leave dog food.” She smiled a little. “Look, Dylan. I’ve got this. I do this for a living. Sadie will be just fine.”

“I’m not worried about Sadie. I’m worried about this house. I need it intact so I can sell it when the season ends.”

Her smile faded. She glanced down the hallway, eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re moving? The place barely looks lived in. Shouldn’t be too hard to sell.”

“My contract’s up. I doubt the Knights are re-signing me. So yeah, I’ll be moving.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But I can’t afford another couch incident. That furniture was here from the model home. Just… please, keep the damage to a minimum.”

She gave him a dramatic salute. “Aye-aye, sir. Sadie and I will be on our best behavior.”

He turned to head inside, not completely reassured, but out of time to argue.

Then her voice stopped him again. “Oh, one more thing. I might need to bring my other dog here.”

He turned slowly.

“I don’t have anyone to watch him,” she continued quickly, the words rushing out like a dam had broken. “And he’s really good with other dogs. I think he’d help Sadie. He’s kind of a calming influence.”

His eyes narrowed. “More dogs? Did you miss the part where I said no chewing, pooping, or peeing in the house? What do you do on other jobs?”

She gave a sheepish shrug. “Most of my clients already know Carl. He’s a sweetheart. I never bring him if there’s a risk. But right now, all my fosters are full and I don’t have anywhere else to put him. It’s just one dog.”

Dylan closed his eyes and started counting.

Ten. Still furious.

Twenty. Gritting his teeth.

Fifty. Breathing through his nose like a yoga instructor with anger issues.

When he opened them again, she was glaring, foot tapping impatiently.

She was irritated?

“When were you planning to tell me about your other house guest?” His voice came out low, clipped, but steady.

Her expression faltered. “I was. I just… hadn’t found the right time.”

“Right.”

He turned and ran his fingers through his hair. The whole situation was unraveling, and fast.

“I don’t think this is going to work out.”

Sadie let out a mournful whine and curled across his feet like she could anchor him in place with her body. Damn dog.

Savannah took a tentative step closer. “What are you going to do? You can’t drop her off at the shelter. You sure as hell can’t leave her alone. And let’s be honest, you’re not going to find another dog sitter on this short of notice.”

Her hand came to rest on his arm—warm, steady, sincere. “Look, I screwed up. I should’ve told you sooner. But I’m good at what I do. I won’t put Sadie or your house at risk. I’ll give you references if you want. I may not be the best with people, but with dogs? I know what I’m doing.”

He stared at her, really looked at her.

Not many people would drag themselves out of bed in the middle of the night to help a stranger with a dog. But she had. No questions asked. No lectures. No judgment. Just calm, capable care—and somehow, kindness, too.

She’d dropped everything for a creature that wasn’t even hers.

His jaw clenched.

“Damn it.”

Her smile bloomed instantly, lighting up the hallway like someone had flipped on the sun. “You won’t regret it. Now let’s get Sadie situated so I can get my guys loaded up. I’ll be back in one hour. Promise. Say goodbye to Daddy!”

“I’m not Daddy.”

“Did she sleep in your bed last night?”

He didn’t answer.

Her grin widened. “Yup. You’re Daddy. Give her a kiss and say bye-bye! And don’t forget to call!”

Moments later, he found himself behind the wheel, heading toward the stadium, running on fumes and not nearly enough coffee.

That woman could charm a snake and convince it that it needed a leash.

If she was half as good at running her rescue as she was at running circles around him, there wouldn’t be a homeless dog in the damn county. Too bad she could barely manage her own chaos.

And too bad he wasn’t smart enough to walk away.