Page 70 of Ruff and Tumble

“After seeing all the trouble Garrett has gone through to tame that giant beast you saddled him with, you can hardly expect me to open my arms and my home.”

Hailey couldn’t help but laugh. “Cleopatra is a bit of a handful. I hope he’s not too upset with me.”

“He’s not. I was over at his house a couple of nights ago, and he was training the animal to run on his treadmill. I couldn’t tell which of them was enjoying it more.”

Hailey’s interest perked. She didn’t know this woman well and knew Garrett Smith even less, but something about the casual mention of being at his house struck her. She was struggling to come up with the most tactful way to ask about their exact relationship when Julian told them both to quiet down.

“Those puppies of yours are on the TV,” he said, pointing. Sure enough, he’d turned on the pregame show, where scenes from the Lumberjacks locker room showed Philip and Cleopatra sitting alongside their temporary masters. Philip’s teal bow tie was askew, as it almost always was, and Cleopatra was tugging on the hem of Garrett’s jersey, but the image was a powerful one.

“There are a lot of these little guys waiting for good homes,” Cole said as he lifted Philip to his cheek. As if aware that he was being watched by millions of people around the world, Philip lolled out his tongue and gave Cole a shameless kiss. “Not just the puppies appearing at the Puppy Cup in a few short weeks but in shelters across the country. Even if you can’t open your home to one of them, you can open your wallet. Every little bit helps.”

Hailey felt every part of her heart swell. Cole was plugging her puppies on live television. Cole was plugging her puppies on live television without being asked.

And oh, he looked good doing it—smiling and slightly disheveled, his uniform stretching tight across his thighs. It was bizarre to think that she’d had those thighs intertwined with her own, more bizarre still to accept that she was sitting in his parents’ house and getting ready to watch him play.

“Well,” Paula said, summing up Hailey’s feelings. “If that doesn’t get you a place for every puppy in the country, dear, I don’t know what else will.”

* * *

It was, without a doubt, the greatest game Cole Bennett had ever played.

That was the consensus of the room where Hailey watched, anyway, and it could be argued that she was sitting among the country’s leading experts. She’d always had a critical eye where he was concerned, but it was nothing compared to the running dialogue his dad made the entire time.

Every play was analyzed from start to finish. Every decision was run through an internal checklist. Even the smallest feint was ranked according to ones made in the twenty-odd years that Cole had been training.

“Did you see that, Hailey?” Julian demanded when Cole performed a seven-step drop back that resulted in a forty-yard gain. “Not a single stumble. Not a moment’s hesitation.”

“Yes, I saw,” Hailey soothed. It had only taken her a few minutes to realize that her role today was to calmly agree with everything Julian said. Shecouldhave argued with several of his points, especially the ones regarding Cole’s tendency to resort to an unbalanced T-spread under pressure, but she kept her lips sealed. She’d promised to do her best to keep this man relaxed and alive, and she intended to uphold her end of the bargain.

After what Cole had done for the Puppy Cup—and for her career—it was the least she could do. There were no fewer than fifteen excited texts on her phone from Jasmine and the rest of the office. Apparently, the phones were ringing off the hook.

“You did this,” Julian said, turning to her with a beaming smile. Nala had long since fallen asleep on his lap, and despite his occasional outburst and jerk of excitement, she seemed content to remain there. “You and the puppy. You andallthe puppies.”

“We’re only up by three points,” Hailey pointed out. “And it’s not even halftime yet. Let’s just wait and see how things roll out, shall we?”

“Why?” Julian asked sharply. “What do you know? What do you see?”

Across the room, Regina caught Hailey’s gaze and rolled her eyes. Sometime in the hour since kickoff, both of Cole’s parents had decided that Hailey’s supposed luck extended to clairvoyance. They kept peppering her with questions about the game’s outcome. No matter how many times she disclaimed such a power, they remained steadfast in their beliefs.

“I don’t see anything,” Hailey said. “But I don’t like the way the referee is so quick to call an interception.”

“Yes, that’s true. Isn’t it true, Julian?”

“I never liked that guy. I don’t trust his face.”

Confident that she’d bought Cole—and his dad—a little wiggle room, Hailey sat back in her chair and fixed her eyes on the screen. She’d never admit it to anyone in this family, but she was watching Cole’s movements much more keenly than she had in games past. Now that she knew the exact scope of his shoulder problems, she could see it in every move he made and every play he called. To outward appearances, he was as much in control of himself as he always was—precise and powerful, making the most of his team and their cohesiveness.

But there was a hesitation to his movements that she hadn’t noticed before. He guarded his right side with more care than usual. It was a feeling she knew well. He was protecting himself.

“Take the opening, boy!” Julian jumped up from his chair as one of the offensive tackles from the other team stumbled and left a huge gap. “This is your chance!”

Hailey also leapt up, but only so she could catch Nala, who was understandably alarmed by this sudden movement. Her attention was so taken up with making sure the puppy didn’t fall to the floor that she missed the crash.

She heard it, though. Not the literal blow but the effect it had on all those who were watching. Julian, Paula, Regina…even the announcers on the television audibly winced. Hailey couldn’t bring herself to look at the screen, so she looked at the faces of Cole’s loved ones instead.

It was a mistake. Bodily impact was a physical thing—a tangible thing. Hailey had spent far too many years watching football to be squeamish about a blow or two. The things those men went through on the field were sometimes akin to battle, but she was inured to it by now. The expressions of mingled dismay and despair, the way Mia’s face scrunched up and tears—lots of them—began to fall, was a much more difficult thing to witness.

“Is Uncle Cole okay?” the girl asked, her voice small but unmistakable in the horrified silence of the room. “How come he’s not getting up?”