Page 3 of If You Need Me

“You’re the one who pulled me in,” I point out. Again. It takes everything in me not to arch an eyebrow at him. I swear he’ll be the reason I need Botox before I’m thirty.

“Look, I have to pee.” Dallas runs a hand through his hair, making a delicious mess of it. “I swear I’ll only be a minute. I won’t even lock the door.”

I say nothing, just stare at him.

His lip twitches. “Please don’t get mad at me. I’ll just end up with another anxiety boner, and then we’ll have to go through this whole thing again.” He motions between us. “I’m not opposed, but I think you might be.”

“If you’re more than a minute, I will come back in here and drag you out.” Before he can say anything, I exit the bathroom.

Standing just down the hallway is Claudia the shelter director, Benita for makeup, the photographer, the cameraman, and two shelter volunteers. I smile and head for the group.

“Everything okay?” Benita asks through a practiced smile. She’s attended many a promo op and knows what Dallas is like.

“Everything is fine,” I assure her. I turn my attention to Claudia, dropping my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Dallas sometimes gets a little nervous before he’s in front of the camera, but once things get rolling, he loosens right up.”

Thankfully, Dallas appears in the hall. He peeks up at the group through his ridiculously long eyelashes and adopts a smile reminiscent of his last name. All the women, including Benita, also duck their heads and echo his smile. Dallas evokes the same reaction from pretty much everyone. It’s exceedingly challenging not to roll my eyes.

“I’m sorry I kept you all waiting.” Dallas tucks his hand in his pocket.

“It’s totally fine,” Claudia assures him. “We really appreciate your support.”

“I wish I could have a dog, but my travel schedule makes that impossible. It would be one thing if I had a partner who could be there, but, uh, I’m still waiting for the right person to realize I’m the one,” Dallas says as he falls into step with Claudia.

I choke on a cough. Dallas has never had a girlfriend as long as I’ve been with the team, so there being a someone is news to me. Especially since he’s such a relentless flirt.

He glances over his shoulder and grins at me.

I drag my middle finger along my eyebrow.

“Is there someone special?” Claudia asks.

“Yeah, but she’s not ready for me yet. She’ll come around eventually.”

His ego is ridiculous. Of course he believes he can charm anyone he wants into falling for him because it happens all the time at the bar. Whenever our crew goes out, he flirts his face off, giving some poor woman false hope, because he always walks away at the end of the night.

I check my messages while Benita tackles Dallas’s hair and makeup. My date is still on. Conversation over the dating app has gone relatively well, so I’m hopeful this guy could be my date to this high school reunion.

Claudia and the photographer give Dallas a quick rundown. The only uncontrolled variable are the dogs. I know exactly how Dallas will act behind the camera, but puppies and rescue dogs can sometimes be skittish.

Claudia returns with the first dog, George. He’s a cross between a Chihuahua and a cairn terrier. The result is a scraggly little thing with one tooth that pokes out of his mouth at an odd angle. He’s adorably awkward. The second Dallas picks him up, he pees on him.

Dallas strips out of his shirt, putting his defined chest, abs, and arms on display. He’s stupidly cut, and he knows it. Thephotographer snaps several pictures while the shelter volunteers bring him a wet, soapy washcloth and towel. Everyone fawns all over Dallas, and Claudia apologizes several times.

“I don’t mind being peed on,” Dallas says, probably to be reassuring.

Benita and Claudia side-eye each other.

“I mean, it’s not a big deal. Not that I actually want—” George bites Dallas’s ear like his favorite chew toy.

Claudia brings out the second dog as Dallas puts on a shelter shirt provided by one of the staff. Bernardo is a huge St. Bernard. He’s so enthusiastic, he knocks Dallas to the floor, which is saying something since Dallas is six foot four and more than two hundred pounds of hockey player. Bernardo plants a huge paw on either shoulder and bathes Dallas’s face with his tongue, covering him in drool.

“I love men who love dogs,” Benita sighs.

“Especially hot, hockey-playing men who love dogs,” Claudia adds.

I stand by and watch gleefully as Dallas tries to escape the tongue and slobber. “I hope you’re getting this,” I say to our photographer.

“Oh hell yeah. This right here is gold.” He snaps away on his camera.

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