Page 14 of Daddy's Naughty Dog Trainer

"He's not a menace! He's a puppy who played with a kid for thirty seconds! God, do you hear yourself? You sound like?—"

"Like what?" His eyes narrow dangerously.

"Like someone who needs to get the stick out of his ass and learn to go with the flow once in a while," I snap, too angry to filter myself.

Something shifts in Sean's expression, a darkening, a hardening. "Go with the flow," he repeats, each word precise and clipped. "Is that your professional advice, Ms. Wright? Just... let chaos reign? No rules, no structure, no consequences?"

"There's a difference between rules and rigidity," I say, taking a step toward him. "Structure doesn't have to mean control."

"Doesn't it?" He takes a step closer too, his voice dropping lower. "Tell me, what happens in your training methods when a dog doesn't listen? When he breaks the rules repeatedly? Is there no correction? No consequence?"

We're standing too close now, close enough that I can see the flecks of darker blue in his irises, can smell the clean, masculine scent of his cologne.

"Of course there are consequences," I say, my voice softer now but no less intense. "But they're proportional. They're fair. They're about teaching, not punishing."

"And who decides what's proportional? What's fair? You?" His eyes search mine, challenging. "The same person who's been deliberately pushing my buttons for weeks? Who called me 'Daddy' just to see how I'd react?"

Heat floods my face. "That was an accident..."

"Don't deny it," he cuts me off. "We both know exactly what you've been doing."

I should apologize.

I should back away, maintain professional distance, and reestablish boundaries. But something in his tone, in the intensity of his gaze, makes me reckless.

"Fine," I say, lifting my chin defiantly. "I have been pushing your buttons. And you know why? Because you're wound so tight it's a miracle you don't snap in half. Because you need someone to challenge you, to shake up your perfect little ordered world."

"What I need," he says, his voice dangerously soft, "is not your concern."

"No? Then why do you keep rising to the bait? Why not just fire me and find another trainer? One who'll follow your rules and stroke your ego and never, ever call you Daddy?"

Lucky whines, sensing the tension between us. Sean glances down at him, then back at me, something shifting in his expression.

"Let's move somewhere more private," he says abruptly, gesturing toward a stand of trees off the main path. "This isn't a conversation to be had in the middle of a public park."

My heart speeds up, but I follow him, curiosity overriding caution. The secluded area he leads us to is still visible from the main path but far enough away that our conversation won't be overheard. Dappled sunlight filters through the leaves overhead, creating a strangely intimate setting for what's clearly about to be a dressing-down.

Sean secures Lucky's leash to a nearby bench, ensuring he can't get loose again, then turns to face me.

"You think I don't know what you've been doing?" he says quietly. "You think I can't tell when someone's deliberately provoking me?"

I cross my arms defensively. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do. Lying is a punishable offense.” He steps closer, and suddenly my back is against a tree trunk. "You know exactly what you’ve been doing. The lateness. The phone. The constant challenge of my authority. The 'Daddy' comment. You're testing me, pushing to see how far you can go before I snap."

My breathing quickens, but I refuse to look away. "And what if I am? Are you not attracted to me? What are you going to do about it?" Is he going to fire me now? Tell me I’m a young, stupid girl playing dangerous games? Is he going to kiss me? Spank me? Reject me? I hold my breath, waiting to see what happens next.

His eyes darken. "That's the question, isn't it? What do you want me to do about it, Jessica?"

The air between us crackles with tension. I should back down. I should laugh it off. I should maintain professional boundaries.

Instead, I hear myself say, "Maybe I want to see what happens when Mr. Perfect Control Freak finally loses it."

"Is that what you want?" His voice is dangerously soft. "To see me lose control?"

"Maybe." My voice is barely a whisper now.

"You have no idea what you're asking for."

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