Page 5 of Bidding on a Second Chance
“Uh-huh.”
“You haven’t forgotten I’m one of the coaches.”
“Assistantcoach.” The hand lowered, and her voice picked up speed and volume as she launched her defense. “But there are a few teams. Statistically, he had greater odds ofnotbeing on your team.”
The roster had landed in Graham’s inbox, but he hadn’t bothered to read the names. He’d never considered Bryce might be among his players. One of the weak reasons Piper had given him for their breakup was that Bryce resented him for arresting his father. Ryan had stolen a car and racked up a list of offenses to fuel a drug addiction—with his son in tow. His subsequent incarceration was the reason Bryce lived with Piper.
While the resentment was no doubt true, Graham believed they could’ve overcome it with enough time and patience. Piper hadn’t given him the opportunity. “Was he assigned to me?”
“He was assigned to Kent Greely.” The way she said the name indicated she already knew Graham was Kent’s second-in-command. “I can’t limit his options for activities just because I have an ex.” Whether it was guilt or a plea for understanding that rounded her eyes, his defenses cracked.
This was his chance to disprove her assumption that he didn’t have the insight to break through to her nephew. Besides, police work was rewarding, but volunteering with the youth basketball league allowed him to develop positive relationships with kids before they ever crossed paths with law enforcement. Bryce was exactly the kind of child Graham wanted to help.
He pulled into Piper’s driveway and helped unload her crutches.
Hunched against them, she pushed back the wispy layers of light-brown hair that framed her face. The pink flush he’d noticed when she’d first spotted him in the waiting room returned. “I’ve got it from here. You’ve gone far enough out of your way.”
He might agree, if only he hadn’t seen the tremor in her fingers. “I’ll see you up the stairs.”
She frowned at the back of her house, where there were no stairs. The ones he meant were just inside the door.
Piper ascended the four steps into her kitchen with only one tenuous moment of wobbling. “Okay. I’m up the stairs.” She held out her hand for the purse again, and this time, he passed it to her. “I’m tired. I’m sore. I just want to—”
A yip sounded in the next room. A small yip. Followed by a little whimper.
“Since when do you have a dog?” The noises drew him into the kitchen. He knelt in front of the crate beside the cabinets. Two dark eyes peered out at him, and a tiny nose pushed against the metal grid that made the kennel’s door. Graham opened it, and a fur ball tumbled into him. The puppy couldn’t be more than two months old. “A labradoodle?”
Piper clipped a leash on the collar. “Come on, Teddy.” She hobbled down the stairs at an impressive speed. Trying to prove something? Whatever the motivation, she’d risked her life, considering the boot and her track record.
Too bad for her the dog remained at the top, peering down as though she’d asked him to jump into a canyon teeming with coyotes.
“You can do it, buddy.” She gave a gentle tug of encouragement.
Teddy’s teeth clamped on the leash. He dedicated each of his fifteen-or-so pounds to yanking the opposite direction.
Piper exhaled her frustration, sending a lock of hair up in a puff.
Graham scooped up the puppy and carried him outside, scrubbing his fingers through the wriggly dog’s fur. “This is why you were concerned about getting home?”
Piper continued to hold the leash as Graham set the pup down. “He was in his kennel a lot longer than I meant him to be, and it’s way past his dinnertime.”
Teddy ambled around, sniffing, his light curls matching the driest blades of the November grass. “When did you get him?”
“Two days ago.”
Graham eyed her brace. When he’d adopted Banjo, caring for, training, and keeping the black lab out of trouble had taken every spare moment for months. “Puppies are a lot of work.”
“I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since we brought him home.”
If she’d been sleep deprived before she’d been hurt, she would have even more trouble now. Back inside, Piper scooped food into Teddy’s bowl while the puppy sat, waiting.
“He looks like a stuffed animal. It’s not right.”
Piper smiled as she lowered the dish, and Teddy started chomping his kibble. “Too adorable for you? Afraid he’ll blow your tough guy cover?”
Maybe. Hewassuppressing an urge to coo at the fluff ball. He fixed his line of sight on Piper but found himself slammed by yet another urge—to take care of her. He gulped. Hadn’t he had enough abandonment to last a lifetime? He took a step toward the exit. Teddy romped in the opposite direction.
“Little stinker.” Piper crutched after the puppy into the living room.
