Page 39 of Daddy's Naughty Dog Trainer

I prop myself up on one elbow to look at him, his features barely visible in the dim light filtering through the blinds. "Sean, it's going to be fine. Lucky's ready. You're ready. The only one who needs sleep right now is you."

He sighs, drawing me back down against his chest. "You're right. I know you're right."

"First time for everything," I quip, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

His chuckle rumbles beneath my ear. "Cheeky girl."

"Your cheeky girl," I correct sleepily.

His arms tighten around me. "Yes," he agrees, voice dropping to a possessive growl that sends a delicious shiver through me even in my drowsy state. "Mine."

As I drift off to sleep, safe in the circle of his arms, I can't help marveling at how thoroughly this man and his dog have woven themselves into the fabric of my life. Me, Jessica Wright, notorious commitment-phobe and boundary-keeper, practically living with a client, helping him prepare for a dog showcase like we're some kind of... family.

The thought should terrify me. Instead, it feels right in a way I never expected.

The morning of the showcase dawns bright and clear, perfect weather for an outdoor event. You never can tell with Charlotte. We get hit with a false spring just to have the weather turn on us the following week. We arrive at the county fairgrounds an hour early, per Sean's meticulous schedule, giving Lucky plenty of time to acclimate to the unfamiliar surroundings.

The venue is already bustling with activity, volunteers setting up the various competition rings, vendors arranging theirdisplays of dog products, and other competitors walking their dogs around the perimeter to burn off nervous energy.

"Registration is in the main building," I say, consulting the map we were sent. "Then we need to check in at the obedience ring by nine-thirty."

Sean nods, adjusting Lucky's show collar, a dark leather one we purchased specifically for today. "Let's get him accustomed to the environment first. Walk him around, let him see and smell everything."

I smile at his calm, methodical approach. "Look at you, sounding like a professional trainer."

"I had a good teacher," he replies, his eyes warm as they meet mine.

We spend the next forty-five minutes walking Lucky around the grounds, letting him observe the other dogs and people without interacting directly. He's alert but relaxed, staying close to Sean's side with perfect leash manners.

After registering and receiving our participant number, we head to the warm-up area near the obedience ring. Several other dogs and handlers are already there, practicing basic commands before their turn in the competition.

"Nervous?" I ask Sean, noticing the slight tension in his shoulders.

"Focused," he corrects, but the small smile he gives me acknowledges the truth. "Lucky seems calm, at least."

"That's because dogs pick up on our energy," I explain, reaching down to scratch behind Lucky's ears. "He trusts you. Just stay confident and he will too."

We watch a few competitors before Sean's turn, assessing the judging criteria. The obedience showcase is straightforward. Each dog must demonstrate a series of basic commands; sit, stay, come, down, heel, while maintaining focus despite distractions.

"Contestant number forty-seven, Sean Ferguson with Lucky," the announcer calls.

Sean takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and gives me a look that's equal parts determination and vulnerability. "Wish us luck."

"You don't need luck," I tell him firmly. "You've got Lucky." I giggle at the play on words.

He nods once, then leads Lucky into the ring, the epitome of controlled confidence. I move to the spectator area, heart fluttering with a mixture of pride and nervousness that surprises me with its intensity.

The judge, a stern-looking woman with silver hair pulled back in a tight bun, greets Sean and explains the course. Then she steps back, clipboard in hand, and nods for him to begin.

What happens next is nothing short of magical. Sean and Lucky move through the obedience routine with flawless precision, each command executed perfectly, each transition smooth and confident. Lucky's focus never wavers, his golden eyes fixed adoringly on Sean as if there's no one else in the world. I’m shocked that this is the same dog I met a couple months ago. A naughty puppy chewing on expensive leather shoes. He’s made a complete transition.

When they finish the final command, a recall from across the ring with a perfect front position, the audience breaks into spontaneous applause. The judge herself looks impressed, making rapid notes on her clipboard.

I find myself clapping so hard my palms sting, a ridiculous grin plastered across my face. Sean catches my eye as he and Lucky exit the ring, and the pride and joy in his expression makes my heart swell almost painfully.

"That was incredible!" I exclaim when they reach me, dropping to my knees to ruffle Lucky's fur. "You were perfect, Lucky! What a good boy!”

"He didn't hesitate once," Sean says, the wonder in his voice making him sound younger somehow, less controlled. "Even with all these people and dogs around."

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