Page 31 of Daddy's Naughty Dog Trainer

My heart squeezes painfully. "I've missed you too."

He leans down, pressing a soft, almost chaste kiss to my forehead. "Saturday."

"Saturday," I echo, and slip out the door before I can change my mind and throw myself into his arms.

I spend the next three days in a state of nervous anticipation. We've cleared the air, somewhat, but things still feel fragile between us. We’ve been texting and spoke on the phone a few times as if nothing had ever happened. We’d decided on a power exchange relationship but not twenty-four hours a day. What if he absolutely needs that? I am not the girl for him if he does.

I've changed outfits four times before settling on a simple sundress, feminine but not overtly sexy, with just enough pink in the floral pattern to feel like me. My hair is down, freshly washed and styled, the pink vibrant against my pale skin.

When I arrive at The Barking Bean, Sean and Lucky are already waiting at our usual corner table. Something in me eases at the sight of them, Sean in casual weekend clothes, Lucky contentedly settled at his feet.

"Hey," I say, sliding into the chair opposite him.

"Hey yourself." His eyes warm as they take me in. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks." I feel suddenly shy, like we're on a first date. In some ways, maybe we are, starting fresh, with new understanding.

"I ordered your usual," he says, sliding a caramel latte toward me. "Hope that's okay."

"Perfect." I wrap my hands around the mug, grateful for something to do. "How's work been?"

A shadow crosses his face. "Intense. We're tracking a potential breach in one of our defense systems. The kind of thing that keeps me up at night."

"That sounds stressful."

"It is." He sighs, rubbing his temples. "I don't mean to use it as an excuse for how I behaved, but... it's hard to switch gears sometimes. To leave work at work."

"I understand that," I say, and I do. "We all have our professional masks that can be hard to take off."

"What's yours?" he asks, genuine curiosity in his eyes.

I consider the question. "The competent, no-nonsense trainer who always knows exactly what to do with any dog, no matter how challenging."

"That's not a mask," he says. "That's who you are."

"Not always." I take a sip of my latte. "Sometimes I'm totally winging it, hoping the dog owner doesn't realize I'm making it up as I go."

He laughs, the sound warming me from the inside. "You had me fooled."

"Good," I grin. "That's the point."

We fall into easier conversation after that, and it feels good, normal, relaxed, the tension from earlier in the week gradually dissolving.

When we've finished our coffee, we take Lucky for a walk around the little park beside the café, just as we've done every Saturday for weeks now. As we stroll side by side, our hands occasionally brushing, I feel the connection between us rebuilding, strengthening.

"I've been thinking," Sean says as we circle the duck pond, "about what you said. About control and structure."

"Oh?" I keep my tone casual, though my heart rate picks up.

"You were right. I do try to control everything around me. It's... a coping mechanism, I suppose. If everything is ordered and predictable, nothing can surprise me. Nothing can hurt me."

The vulnerability in his admission takes my breath away. "And how's that working out for you?"

A rueful smile touches his lips. "Not great, evidently. Since the most unpredictable, uncontrollable person I've ever met managed to completely upend my life in the span of a few weeks."

"Me?" I press a hand to my chest in mock innocence. "I'm perfectly predictable."

"Please." He rolls his eyes, but there's fondness there. "From the moment you showed up with your pink hair and refusal to follow simple instructions, you've been a chaos agent in my perfectly ordered world."

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