Page 1 of Evil Hearts

RAW DOGGING

By Latrexa Nova and Vera Valentine

Chapter 1

The yips andwoofs ratcheted up in volume by the furthest corner of the dog park, making Addison wince. Seconds after the din started three—no, four—owners rushed over to tug their dogs out of the fray, and thankfully no one was any worse for wear.

Thiswas why she wanted one-on-one work, rather than the class-teaching positions that were more readily available. One dog she could handle, but several at once, leashes tangling, barking at the top of their lungs? No thank you tothatchaos.

Across the huge fenced-in park, the reason for her dog-less visit leaned casually against the baggie dispenser post, leash lax in his fingers: Connor Lawton. Sitting at the other end of the leash was his impeccably-behaved pup, Fenn, a huge husky mix with a surprisingly calm temperament. But honestly, if anyone could get a husky in line, it was Connor: his dog training school didn’t boast the region’s longest waitlist for nothing.

The Well Heeled Academy didn’t just have an amazing reputation, they also had a robust social media presence. That’s how she knew their lead one-on-one specialist had just pursued another opportunity across the country, leaving the spot wide open for an enterprising trainer to snag. Nerves be damned, Addison wanted tobethat enterprising trainer–even if shelacked experience. She wouldn’t grab the spot by staring at the man like a creeper, so she shifted her gaze to a safer target: Fenn. She’d overheard Connor quietly call out to him a few times and committed the name to memory—just in case she ever managed to have an actual conversation.

But a healthy dose of social anxiety kept her feet firmly anchored in the sandy soil along the edges of the fence, fingers laced through the diamond-shaped lattice of the chainlink as she watched Fenn. If she didn’t know better, she’d think the giant husky was a wolf-dog, but Connor would never risk his Academy keeping an illegal breed. Fenn was just a big-boned mutt, well-groomed and even more well trained. When the dog turned his large, semi-shaggy head towards her, his yellow eyes had an unnerving, decidedly intelligent depth to them. Suddenly Addison felt likeshewas the one being watched.

Annoyingly attuned to the behaviors of his canine companion, Connor looked up as if someone had called his name, glancing directly towards Addison. She sucked in a breath and rapidly glanced downfield, pushing off the fence and striding in the opposite direction, unused prop leash balled in her hand. Slipping behind a giant oak tree nearby, she willed her heart to slow its guilty hammering.

She wasn’t doing anythingwrong, she reminded herself. Okay, maybe it was a little weird to show up empty-handed to a dog park to study her potential future employer, but jobs were hard to come by and her apartment complex didn’t allow dogs. If she could pick up on the vibe of Connor’s preferred training style, it would give her an edge over the other candidates if she made it to the interview stage.

That’s a big if. Blowing out a slow breath, she pushed off the tree, wincing as a stray branch tugged her hair and scraped her ear. Trying for a nonchalant stroll back to the fence line, she discreetly scanned for Connor. He was facing away fromher, thankfully, launching a tennis ball from his fingers for Fenn, who was already mid-gallop. For being so large, the dog moved with surprising grace, eating up yards of patchy grass as he honed in on the ball and captured it with a snap of his jaws. A scrappy little Jack Russell bounced off the larger dog’s substantial chest at the point of contact, but no squabble ensued: Connor’s dog apparently knew better than to embarrass his high-profile human parent.

Addison watched for a few more minutes, making some mental notes about how Connor offered praise and correction, squinting at the high-value treats he kept in a waist pouch. She knew the shape of those treats: she’d pick up a pack at the local pet store and ‘just happen’ to use the same brand when she finallytalkedto Connor. Prep seemed a lot more palatable than trying to yank the leash on her social anxiety at the moment, so she watched for another minute or two before heading back to the car. Driving back home while mentally composing the follow-up email to her Academy application, she let just a smidge of optimism into the car with her.

The teenage girl behind the register at Pampered Paws dragged the small bag and new waist pouch over the scanner, studying the label before tossing it in a shopping bag. “Weird, you’re only like the second person I’ve ever seen buy the sweet potato ones.”

“Oh? Someone else uses these?” Addison tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, reaching for the bag with her other hand in her best attempt at nonchalance.

“Yeah, that um…what’s his name, Carl? Cameron? The training guy.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the glossy Well Heeled Academy poster pinned to the community cork board.

Addison allowed herself an indulgent mental high-five for her sleuthing skills as she smiled. “Cool, guess they must be good then, right?”

The clerk shrugged amicably and nodded. “Guess so. Guy charges a fortune for his classes, he’s gotta know which ones work. Hope your dog likes them!”

Guilt swirled in Addison’s stomach as she nodded and scurried out of the store, worried the clerk could somehow tell she was shopping for a non-existent pet. Her interview at Well Heeled was in 20 minutes—the story would be that she was fresh off a training session with her private client, who also didn’t exist. She didn’t feel great about all this subterfuge, but shereallywanted the job, and her bills were just as eager for the fat paycheck attached to it. Besides, she reasoned, she’d work really hard once she was hired. The little white lie would even out, right?

Addison really liked dogs. Honestly, she liked them way more than people, which is the reason she’d wanted to work in the industry after her corporate job had downsized her out the door last year. But locally, getting a private training gig was a real who-you-know sort of situation, and nearly impossible for freelancers like herself to get a foothold. So, scheming it was.

Tossing the shopping bag on the passenger’s seat, Addison pulled the treat bag out of the packaging and wrapped the belt around her waist, clicking the buckle. Frowning down at the pristine blue-and-purple nylon, she realized what felt off: if she was a seasoned trainer, even a careful one, her bag would show some wear. This one still had the packaging creases in it, for Gods’ sake: hel-loamateur hour.

Tossing the bag on the ground and grinding it under her sneaker a few times helped, but it still looked too new, even with parking lot dirt smeared on the edges. She was on her third round of slamming it in the car door when the chiming bell of the Pampered Paws’ door broke her concentration. Of course,she’d be frizzy-haired, exasperated, and in the middle of what probably looked like a tantrum when the most beautiful man she’d ever seen walked by. Deliciously-bared forearms wrapped around a large brown paper bag, bright hazel eyes giving him a boyish charm. He raised a well-manicured eyebrow in her direction with a devastating grin, eyes flicking to the abused treat bag in her hand.

“Just, uh…you know, breaking it in!” Injecting a brittle confidence into her voice, she swallowed thickly, twisting the nylon back and forth in her hands like she hadany ideawhat the fuck she was doing.

Hot guy shuffled the bag over to one arm, his quizzical expression morphing into confusion as he ran a hand through shoulder-length dirty blonde hair. Addison’s mouth dried up as she tried not to stare. “Breaking in a…training treat bag? You okay?”

Like a deer in headlights, Addison smiled like a maniac, gave him athumbs upfor some goddamn reason, and all but threw herself into the car, hunching down in the driver’s seat with an internal groan. No wonder she was single. She cracked one eye open, mortification easing slightly as the hunk shrugged and ambled off a moment later, and sighed.

Panic reared up again as she glanced at the dashboard clock.Fuck fuck fuck.She was going to have to get creative with a few traffic laws to make the interview on time. She zoomed out of the parking lot, almost-but-not-really cutting off a blue pickup on the way out.Whoopsie.

Heart hammering, she pushed open the door of Well Heeled right on time, a soft digital chime announcing her presence to the empty front counter. Sucking in a deep, cleaning-product-scented breath to steady herself, she patted the abused bag of training treats on her hip for morale.Confidence and common ground, you can do this.

“Anyone home? I’m Addison Greene, I’m here for the two pm trainer interview?”

Secretly glad no one was around to see her rush in flustered, she peered at the door behind the counter, waiting for Connor.

“Shit! Montana! Stay still, damnit. Hey, sorry, there’s been a change of—”

A mouthy husky yap-yapped his agreement. As the door opened, a man emerged, clad in a fur-covered grooming apron he busily dusted off.

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