“Come on, boy,” Sawyer called to Buster, making his way through the living room toward his bedroom. Without missing a beat, Sawyer went right to the bathtub and turned on the water. While the tub filled, he glanced over at the door, expecting to see Buster standing there.
He didn’t expect Buster to be merrily wagging his tail because, it was true, his dog didn’t particularly care for baths, but Buster had always eventually given in.
Didn’t look as though that were the case today.
“Buster!” Sawyer yelled, hoping the little dog could hear him in the other room. “Come on, buddy. It’ll take five minutes.”
Sawyer sat on his haunches, waiting for Buster to come running. It’d never taken more than two requests before.
“What’re you doin’ in here?”
Sawyer’s gaze lifted to Kennedy as she stepped into the doorway of the bathroom.
“Tryin’ to get him in the bath, but he’s ignorin’ me.” Raising his voice a little, he called out to Buster again.
Kennedy smiled, but that quickly morphed into a full-fledged laugh.
“What’re you laughin’ at?” Sawyer asked.
“Nothin’,” she said, through bouts of giggling.
“What? Seriously?”
“I just thought your powers of persuasion generally got you whatever you wanted.”
Turning off the water, Sawyer got to his feet, staring down into the half-filled tub before smirking at Kennedy again.
“Are you losin’ your touch, cowboy?”
Sawyer glared at her, fighting a grin.
“Stay there, I’ll get him,” Kennedy said sweetly, a wide smile on her face.
“Good luck,” Sawyer told her. “If he won’t come in here when I call, he ain’t gonna…”
“Good boy,” Kennedy crooned at Buster, who appeared in the doorway beside Kennedy. “Wanna get a bath?”
Sawyer stepped out of the way as Kennedy continued to sweetly convince Buster to follow her into the bathroom.
“You’ll have to put him in there yours—”
“Jump in,” Kennedy instructed and sure as shit, Buster jumped right up onto the edge of the tub and then into the water, splashing Kennedy and making her laugh.
Sawyer stared blankly at the scene before him. “How’d you do that?”
Kneeling on the floor beside the tub, Kennedy glanced up at him over her shoulder, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Looks like you’re better with the ladies, Sawyer. I suggest you don’t give up your day job.”
Kennedy moved closer, dropping to his knees behind her, nuzzling his mouth to her ear. “For the record, I’m good with one lady. And how do you know I didn’t do this on purpose, just so I didn’t have to give him a bath?”
“Because I know you,” she whispered. “You’re not that good.”
Oh, he was that good.
And in a few minutes, once they were alone, without the inquisitive brown eyes of his dog peering up at them, he’d show her.
