“Fuck off,” I growl, trying to keep the grin from my face.
Entering the building, I immediately spot the security cameras and alternate exits before getting to the reception desk; on the way I catch the eye of a man in the waiting area and from the look on his face, he knows exactly how I served my country without being told.
We exchange a nod, a brief moment of understanding.
“What kind of dog are you getting?” Keith asks me.
“A Lab, I think. I doubt I get a choice.”
“Owen Bannon?”
My head whips around at the sound of a melodic voice calling out my name. The woman who called it is looking hopefully at the older guy I had exchanged a nod with when I entered, looking crestfallen when he points her in my direction and her body language pisses me off.
“That’s me,” I growl out harsher than necessary and she seems to shrink further into herself.
“Mr. Bannon, I’m Lucy and I’ll handle your final evaluations and transition training.” Her voice becomes almost monotone as her eyes study my chin and she takes a deep breath. “Follow me, please.”
“Can my friend join us?” I ask, trying to get her to look back at us.
“I’m sorry, is he a domestic partner?” she asks, looking down at the paperwork instead of back to us.
Keith lets out a bark of laughter that immediately reddens her cheeks.
“No, sweetheart, he’s missing all my favorite parts,” he tells her. That gets her to look at me before she looks around mortified and I groan, knowing he was going for sexual innuendo and failing miserably.
“Dude.” I turn to him. “Wrong fucking place to joke about that shit.”
“Oh, fuck . . .” Keith’s eyes dart between our faces. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“Let’s go back to my office, please,” Lucy states a second time, but this time her eyes are locked on mine and I feel my rush of frustration at her initial reaction to me fade.
I nod and lift my hand in a silent indicator for her to lead the way; her spine stiffens as her eyes follow my hand, and it suddenly occurs to me that I’m not the only one who’s a bit damaged.
“This center has been open for nearly three years now.” Lucy’s voice relaxes back into the tones I heard when she first called my name, as she recites her obviously memorized speech about the foundation, but I’m more concerned with studying her figure and reaction to others we pass.
The girl has curves and maybe a bit more weight on her than would usually catch my eye. While her jeans fit her just right, I can’t figure out what the fuck is going on with her top, it’s a size or two bigger than she needs and looks like something my grandma would have worn; oddly clashing with her blonde hair that turns purple near the ends.
It’s her responses to people that tell me more—she seems to dart around some of the men we pass on the way to her office and I slowly realize that it was my build that must have triggered her in the lobby.
Hearing Keith click his tongue, I slow down to walk beside him.
“Don’t crowd her,” he says quietly.
Making the next turn, we’re abruptly in her office area.
“Please have a seat,” Lucy says right before I would have run into her. “Now, your application says you live in a single-family home. Are you Keith? He has that name down as a reference, missing the last name.”
“That’s me. We served together and I live about an hour from his cabin.” He shrugs, eyeing the folding chair warily before leaning against the wall.
“Cabin? Is there a dedicated outdoor area for D . . . um, for the potential service dog?”
“Yes, oh, sorry, you don’t want to hear from me,” Keith awkwardly answers the question I had no idea about.
The interview goes on for another ten minutes before I cut in.
“Do I get to choose my service animal?” I ask. Eager to get on to the next stage.
“I do that. I’m pretty sure I know who I’ll pair you up with, but I do need to complete the home inspection before I tell you anything else,” Lucy carefully responds, again, looking anywhere but at me.
“Great, let’s get going,” Keith vocalizes what I’m thinking.
“What? Today? I have to set a time, and . . .”
“Do you have your own pet to get back to?” I ask when her eyes slide down to her watch.
“No, I mean, I guess we could. It’s just supposed to be more random. So it doesn’t look like you’re staging a visit.”
“Why don’t you have a dog?” I ask, leaning forward and putting my hands on my knees.
“I . . . I foster these dogs from time to time, when they’re puppies and it’s time to start their early training,” she answers, not only making eye contact with me again but allowing a flash of annoyance to show. “I do have the afternoon free, so I suppose I could get my things together and make the visit.”
“Great. I’ve got the big, black RAM in the parking lot, pull up behind me when you’re ready,” I say, standing up and walking to the door, leaving both her and Keith with gaping mouths behind me.
Chapter Two
Owen
“Hey! Wait up,” Keith calls out to me as I’m crossing the parking lot. “Not sure how we should play this. Duncan worked his magic but maybe you should do the home inspection yourself?”
“Huh? No, I don’t know where shit is around the place; let alone how to get there if the GPS craps out,” I answer, looking back at him. “Have you heard back from Carlos?”
Just as I’m opening the door to my truck, Keith reaches out and slams it shut.
“Let’s get somethings fucking straight, brother. One: I’m not your errand boy. Two: Stop growling at that woman unless you want to fuck up this chance, cause we both know you need something to get you back into the world again. Thirdly: I only asked since you were eye-fucking her from the moment she called your name. If you seal the deal with her, you gotta keep her around until that dog is yours.”
Letting out a deep breath, I turn to him and confess some of the thoughts that have been racing through my head the last half hour.
“Something’s up with her, I don’t know, maybe she’s more damaged than I am but I’m not in any position to start anything with anyone,” I reply, covering the easier part of what I need to say. “I shouldn’t have gotten short with you—you and Duncan have had my back since day one and I do appreciate it.”
“Now that we have that straight, here comes Lucy,” Keith says, pulling sunglasses out of his pocket as he continues to the passenger side and reaches for the door. Like me, he’s tall enough that the lack of a running board is a non-issue as he folds his body inside the vehicle.
“Just follow me,” I call out to her and start up the truck.
“What’s so funny?” Keith asks me and I realize I’m smiling.
“She and her car are so small I can barely see her in the rear-view mirror.”
“Christ, brother. You and Duncan. Single-fucking-minded when you see the woman you want,” Keith says, chuckling under his breath.
“Not in the market. What’s up with Duncan? And why the hell did he move to the middle of . . . I mean where’s the closest international airport?”
Keith just shakes his head and indicates the different turn-offs I need to take, until I pull up the driveway and am shocked by the cabin that they arranged for me. Typical Duncan—the man doesn’t do anything halfway.
“Carlos is in the barn where he parked my car, we’ll hang out in case you need anything but he stocked the fridge and pantry.”
“Keith . . .” I can’t find the words to thank him. I know this will make all the difference.
“Don’t fucking thank me again.”
Lucy
For the love of God.
I groan in the confines of my car as Owen slides out of his truck. I almost had a heart attack when I saw my last appointment for the day looked like, well, sex. Tall, built, tattoos creeping up his neck and the kind of man that looks at you dead
on, assessing you with a glance.
His build is similar to my ex’s and after that shitshow, I’m taking a break from dating. Actually, I’m taking a break from people but I have to go through the motions at work because I enjoy having a roof over my head.
A few years back, when I realized that there was no way I could afford to go to vet school, I lucked into a job as a receptionist with a similar organization that I work at today. This gives me plenty of time with dogs while I work to help our nation’s veterans find a way back from despair.
Owen knocks on the hood of my car and I realize that I zoned out again.
“Sorry!” I say, quickly opening the door but looking around to get my iPad and discreetly shove my taser into my pocket. “What a beautiful home.”
“Yeah, um, come check it out,” he replies.
Looking around for his friend, I see Keith walking toward a barn off to the side and am a little relieved that it will just be the two of us inside. Since the event that kicked off my break-up and subsequent restraining order fiasco with my ex, I would have been nervous with both men inside the house.
The moment Owen opens the door, I have to hold back the sigh I let out. What I wouldn’t give to come home to a place like this.
“Wow,” I finally say when he looks back over his shoulder at me, his eyes darkening. I sidestep him, even though I feel like a moth to the flame, wanting to step into his body.
Down, Lucy! I think to myself. Fuck, I don’t even have the figure I used to, it’s not like he’d be into me. I currently have a standing threesome with Ben and Jerry once a week and that ice cream may have rounded out my hips and ass a bit more than is fashionable but I love me some Half-Baked.
“Alright, one resident, right? Any frequent guests?” I ask, looking down at my iPad and cringing at the question I just asked but also hoping he’s single.
“Hmf,” he kinda grunts out. “Not in the right headspace to be around others right now. I know my form said consultant and a buddy of mine has hired me on, but I’m really just going to therapy and doing some research online. That’s alright, isn’t it?”
“He sounds like a good friend, Mr. Bannon . . .”
“Call me Owen. And he is. Duncan served also, got majorly fucked up along the way but, well, I think he processes things differently,” he says, and I’m relieved to see how much more relaxed he is since we’ve walked through the door but there’s something off.
“Is this your first time here?” I ask quietly, looking up at his face for his reaction. He nods his head, keeping his eyes on mine. “But you will be living here, correct?”
“Yes, Lucy. I know there are a lot of people who served that need a companion, and fuck, maybe they deserve it more than I do. It’s just that it’s fucking hard for me to be around people somedays but I need, I don’t know how to say it.”
“Trust me, I understand.” The words slip out of my mouth as I’m thinking them and I’m mortified. “Um, okay. I need to walk around here a little bit to ensure The Duck will be safe and then see the fenced in area.”
“The Duke?”
“No, The Duck. His littermate is The Duke but that one’s already in transition to his permanent home. The Duck was the runt of the litter and wasn’t expected to survive,” I explain, knowing that any man would prefer to have a dog named for John Wayne over a bird, but what can I do? “He’s a sweetheart, I take him home every other weekend, and can assure you he is very sensitive to human emotions but took to his training really well.”
“Do your list thing, then let’s talk some more about what happens next,” Owen says before heading further inside to the kitchen area. “Want something to drink?”
“No, thanks,” I answer before walking in the opposite direction.
Fifteen minutes later I’m pretty sure I know more about the cabin and surrounding area than he does. Circling back, I find him lying down on the couch with his eyes closed and his arms crossed over his chest; I clear my throat to let him know I’m ready to finish our discussion.
“Any lead paint or hazmat items I need to get fixed up before I pass the test?”
Thankfully, his eyes remain closed so I can soak in the sight of him a few minutes longer.
“It’s perfect here,” I tell him. “The fence was recently installed and will provide a safe space for The Duck. I do want to talk to you a little more about the work you’ll be doing. You mentioned consulting, will there be much traveling?”
“No. Look, it’s not that I have anything keeping me in this area, but I wouldn’t take on a service animal without thinking of its well-being and happiness. I may be moving on but I will make sure that The Duck has a similar space and, really, I just want a place I can put down roots myself.”
Flipping back through the pages of his application and what I’ve observed, I know I’m fast-tracking this but it’s not without merit. Plus, my boss already told me Mr. Bannon, dammit, Owen, was getting a service dog due to a huge donation made in his name. At this point, I know it was made by the man he’ll be working for, the one who went to the effort to put a mini-dog park out back.
“Alright, I’ll bring The Duck by on Saturday,” I tell him. “It’s just for a visit. On Monday, we’ll start your transition training.”
“My training?” he asks as I abruptly stand up and head toward the front door.
“The Duck’s already been trained. Your shirt is on inside out,” I call over my shoulder.
“Can you find your way back?” he asks, quickly following behind me.
“Yes, my grandparents used to live nearby.”
“Text me that you got back safely,” he says, pulling the door open for me.
“This isn’t a date, Owen. I’m good.”
“Fine, then I’ll text you in thirty minutes and every five until you respond.”
Looking up, I see Keith and another man exiting the barn and throw them a wave before I get into my car. Heading back to town, I decide to sign The Duck out tonight rather than wait until tomorrow. I’m going to miss that little sweetheart, so I might as well spend another day with him before he goes on to fulfill his purpose.
Chapter Three
Owen
I keep my face guarded as Keith and Carlos join me, only giving them a nod to let them know I’ll be getting the service dog.
“What are you going to name him? Maybe after a battle or MMA fighter?” Carlos’ rapid-fire questions are par for the course with him.
“He’s got a name. He’s The Duck.”
Carlos pauses to see if I’m kidding before busting out with, “Well, that’s lame.”
“I looked into her for you,” Keith says, cutting to the chase. “Her ex was abusive. She made an excuse the first time he put her in the hospital. The second time, she filed a police report and got a restraining order. Lucy left Atlanta right after he violated his parole and the protective order by breaking into her place, he’s still in jail for another month.”
The three of us exchange glances, all thinking the same thing.
“I’ll keep an eye out, as long as I’m here.”
“I’ll check with our contacts in Georgia and keep eyes on him when he’s released,” Carlos contributes.
“Time we left you. Check in with me daily, otherwise I’ll be moving in,” Keith tells me, clapping my shoulder before turning back to the barn.
“Come back for waffles anytime,” I call out and his shoulders relax with his laughter. Of the many topics we covered when we served together, one of the more important ones was breakfast food. Pancakes or waffles almost became a free for all fight one day.
I spend the next day at the pet store buying up everything on the list that Lucy left me. And about a dozen things that I think Duckie might want. Every time I thought of The Duck, my mind would wander to fucking Lucy.
Literally fucking her on every surface in this cabin. Duckie isn’t that big of a name change but most importantly, it doesn’t rhyme with fuck.
When I ran out of thi
ngs to prepare for my service animal, I jumped online and read up on Lucy’s backstory. But then I had more time, so I flipped through all of her social media. That was especially frustrating because it virtually stopped a couple months after she started dating her ex.
I get that she was young, barely twenty-one, but no woman should have to fear a man slapping her around. Shaking my head at the position she was in, I remind myself not to get involved. As my therapist keeps saying, I need to heal before I can be responsible for anyone else.
“Hey, we’ll be there in ten minutes.” Lucy’s voice is light and bubbly this morning, is my first thought when I pick up her call. “Remember to hang back a bit, I’ll keep him on his leash and let him snoop around.”
“Got it, I’ll be out back, so come around when he’s comfortable,” I tell her, looking around at the pile of wood I’ve been chopping the past hour then down to the axe. Probably best to not freak Duckie out by swinging this thing around.
Putting that away, I’m stacking up the wood when I hear her car coming up the drive and can’t believe the nervousness I’m feeling. It’s a therapy dog, it’s basically trained to like crazy people, I think, grinning to myself as I continue my chore.
The gate screeches its displeasure when Lucy opens it and I have no problem staying focused on her and not the beautiful chocolate Lab that bounds into this fenced in yard. Her brown hair is loose today and it suits her face better than the bun she had it in the other day, I just wish to hell she wasn’t wearing sunglasses.
I have to bite back my grin when her eyes land on me and her jaw drops. What can I say? Of course I took my shirt off when I was cutting wood. Trying to look innocent and not like I’m showing off for her, I stride over to the post that’s holding my T and I pull it over my head as she’s mumbling something.
“What’s that?” I ask, arching a brow in her direction.
“Hi.”
“Oh, I thought you said something else?” I push her further, standing completely still as Duckie comes to investigate me.
No Man Left Behind: A Veteran Inspired Charity Anthology Page 5
