Page 17 of Hold Still

Ozzy

AS USUAL, Ifinish my workout by trying to swim the entire length of the pool underwater. When my lungs feel like they’re about to burst, I break the surface, gasping for breath. Hard session. So much so, I almost forgot all about Teresa. Once again, I send praises through the universe to my PR team for burying the story—both its beginning and end.

Swimming over to the side, I place my hands on the deck, heave myself out of the water and stand. A gasp swings my attention toward the side entrance to the backyard. A short, curvy woman with black hair stares back at me. I wipe the water from my eyes.

McKenna?

A slow smile spreads across my face. Instead of grabbing my towel off the back of a nearby chair, I saunter over to where she stands. Her only movement is her hand flying to her mouth.

Stopping feet in front of her, I lick my lips. My exposed cock starts to stir in recognition—swimming in the buff has its benefits.

I raise my eyebrow. “Babes.”

She finds her voice and looks to my left, where Bans has entered the backyard through her doggie door. I was lucky to find a rental with both a pool and easy backdoor access for her. I refocus on the woman in front of me.

“Ozzy. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d be naked. I mean, here. Well, of course I thought you’d be here, but not naked. And you have a dog. A very big, not naked dog. Oh my God. I’m going to shut up now.”

Bans bounds over to me carrying a stick this time, barking and wagging her tail. Some attack dog. But McKenna doesn’t seem to realize this, as she steps back with each advance Bans makes.

“She’s harmless.” I reach down and scratch her ears.

“Oh. Okay.” McKenna wraps her arms around her middle, now refusing to look at either my dog or me. “Would you please put some clothes on?”

I take the stick from Bans’s mouth and toss it over my shoulder. She scampers away in hot pursuit. “I don’t know. I’m pretty comfortable. And I’m at my own house, after all. Maybe you should consider getting a little more comfortable, yourself. I can only assume you’re here to finish what we started last night, although now that we’re back on solid ground, we won’t be able to join the Mile High club. Pity.”

She raises her chin and looks directly into my eyes for the first time. In an even voice, she says, “You must be a Mile High if you think that’s why I chased you down. Let me be very clear, I’m not here forthat.” Her eyes travel down my torso, causing my cock to stir even more, then zoom back to my own. “But you’re correct, I do want to finish what we started last night. I need you to write the songs for the Project, and I’m damn sure going to keep hunting you down until you produce.”

I scratch my two-day stubble. “I’m not sure what you mean. But I do know I can produce,” I look southward. “Well, given a little more—stimulation.”

She exhales and walks around me to the chair and snatches up the towel. Holding it out to me while keeping her head facing away, she orders, “Put this on.”

Bans decides McKenna wants to play a new game. She drops the stick and races for the towel, latching onto it and shaking her head with a growl. McKenna shrieks and drops her end.

Laughing, I say, “Looks like Bans doesn’t agree with you.”

McKenna stomps her sandaled foot. When Bans tries to get her to play again by running at her with the towel in her mouth, she races around the table, the dog hot on her heels. En route, McKenna shouts, “Get her to stop!”

Bans wouldn’t hurt a fly, she just wants to play. But McKenna obviously didn’t get the memo. Deciding to put her out of her misery, I call out, “Bans, come.”

The dog stops on a dime and trots over to me, taking her place at my heel. “Good dog.” To McKenna, I say, “She’s playing.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t come here to play!”

Petting my dog, I repeat, “Then I don’t know why you bothered to come at all.”

“I’m going to go inside and wait for you to get dressed. Then, maybe, we can have a civilized conversation.” She turns on her heel. “And leave theplayfulfurballout here.” She takes a couple of steps. “Please.”

She opens the French doors and enters my rental. Looking down at Bans, I say, “I don’t know what got into her, girl. She used to be a lot more fun.” Walking over to the stick that we were playing with before, I proceed to play fetch with her for a good fifteen minutes, sans clothes. Let McKenna stew. She came to my house.

When Bans flops down in the grass, I know she’s done. I scratch her belly and pick up the discarded towel, shake it and wrap it around my waist. Sighing, I walk into the house.

McKenna stands up from the sofa, a glass of prosecco in hand.

“Help yourself.”

“I did.”

“McKenna, this is my time. You came to my house and ordered me around. You clearly don’t want to go a few more rounds in bed with me, which I still can’t understand, so what gives?”

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