A crease formed between her eyes. “You didn’t come home for visits?”
He shook his head. “Not that often. A firm in San Francisco recruited me right out of college, and I worked most of the time. My brothers had all moved away, and Dad came to see us as much as he could.” Elliott hadn’t wanted to come back. When he was on the island, he couldn’t think of anything else except his mother’s accident and Rebel’s abandonment. At least in San Francisco, work kept his mind from going there, even if his job was so demanding he’d never had time for anything else. “There wasn’t much of a reason for me to come back.”
That miniscule quiver was back, but this time her gaze darted away. Then she nibbled her bottom lip.
Which caused the dull throb in his thumb to spread to other parts of his anatomy.
“And now you’re back on the island.” Her voice was distant, like she was talking to herself more than to him. “And living in one of the family cottages. I loved those cottages.”
So did he.
Elliott and his brothers had grown up in the largest of the cottages, located far enough from the main lodge to give the family members privacy. Now Spence lived in one of the smaller cottages, Trace and his son occupied one two doors down, and Lily lived in another up the road.
“They were so quaint and warm and said ‘family,’” she said wistfully.
Her home had been a pigsty, her mother letting her latest boyfriend and crazy friends mess it up every time Rebel had cleaned it. Eventually, she’d started spending most of her time at the Remington. If she wasn’t working, she was goofing around with the family.
Or escaping into a remote spot on the grounds or vacant cottages for alone time with him.
He gave a half nod, half shrug. “I’m staying with Spence.” Because I never planned to be on the island long enough to move in to one of the vacant cottages and make it my own. His mind raced to find a change of topic. “What’s with your dog?” He stared down at the furry guy. “He likes me.”
She chuckled. “You find that surprising?”
He raised both brows and tilted his head in agreement. “I do, actually. He’s the first dog I’ve ever met that isn’t either scared of me or growling at me.”
She studied both Elliott and the dog. “He’s trained to identify anxiety. That’s why he leans.”
Elliott gave the dog an approving nod. “That’s pretty damn smart.”
“It is. Unfortunately, he responds to whoever is most stressed in the room, instead of only to his companion. Because of it, he was released from a previous service dog program and dumped in a shelter. I found him right before his time was up. He may never be a great service dog. So I’ll keep him instead of pairing him with someone else.”
Elliott couldn’t help but frown. “It’s strange he didn’t respond to my nephew out on the lawn earlier today. Ben has functioning autism, and his anxiety usually runs high.”
“Ah, that explains the therapy duck.” A glimmer of approval lit her stunning hazel eyes.
Dammit. The churning sound in his ears must be his man card circling the bowl because guys did not use words like stunning. Especially when describing the eyes of a woman they had zero interest in beyond a working relationship. And he was trying like hell to get out of the working part.
“The source of the anxiety doesn’t matter to the dog, whether it comes from autism or PTSD or any other cause. They can start to identify triggers for their companions, but it’s the anxiety itself the dog focuses on and how to help their companion get past each episode.”
Elliott stopped to listen. Amazing how the confidence in her voice skyrocketed when she talked about dog training. He had to respect someone so obviously dedicated to her profession. He also had to wonder why she’d decided on a career as a dog whisperer.
“Could be Re—” She shoved both hands in her pockets. “Maybe Ben’s anxiety level wasn’t as high as yours, so the dog stayed at your side.” Her expression softened. “Or maybe he’s finally found his match.”
“No. Way.” Pets didn’t fit into his lifestyle in San Francisco. From day one, he’d set the pace at his firm for logging more work hours than anyone else. Hell, his laser-sharp focus caused him to crunch numbers and make trades in his dreams most nights. When he finally did finish his leave of absence and return to his old job, he’d have a lot of caching up to do to prove he was still their champion racehorse. “I don’t have time to take care of a dog.” Elliott went back to breaking down boxes.
“It’s more about the service dog taking care of their companion, not the other way around,” Rebel said.
He gathered up the rest of the trash and tossed it onto the pile. “My lifestyle doesn’t lend itself to pets.”
Scratch that. Neither his eighteen-hour workdays nor his penthouse apartment in Pacific Heights, which he was subletting until he moved back to San Francisco, lent itself to pets. He’d spared no expense furnishing his place, which had a view of the bay. It was what his firm had expected from their movers and shakers.
Seemed like a waste, since he’d spent most of his time at the office, chasing after the next brilliant business opportunity for the firm’s clients.
He loved the thrill of it all. And his job left no time for dwelling on regrets from the past.
He retrieved a gigantic square trash bin with wheels from the corner and started filling it with trash. “Dinner’s still being served in the main lodge, if you’re hungry.” They were swerving too far into the personal realm with talk of her mother, his lack of visits to the island, and the possibility of him owning a dog, so he changed the subject.
“I’m starving.” Rebel scooped up an armful of trash and dumped it into the bin. “Haven’t eaten all day.”
“Charley runs the restaurant with a friend of hers,” Elliott said as they tossed in the last of the trash.
“Really? Charley left Seattle and moved here permanently?”
“Yep. She and her daughter, Sophie. The food’s excellent.” He pushed the wheeled bin toward the door. “Get the lights, and I’ll roll this over to the dumpster.”
Rebel grabbed two bowls and a small sack of dog food from the arsenal of supplies, flipped off the lights, and followed him outside.
He stepped over to the control panel attached to the metal garage and punched in the code. “You can get in and out of the garage this way.” As the door slid shut, he said, “The code is zero, four, one, six, enter.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to snatch them back. Why in the hell hadn’t he thought to change the code? The sixteenth day of the fourth month was Rebel’s birthday.
When a sharp intake of breath whistled through her lips, he refused to look at her. If he did, he’d be so busted.
“My dad sets the code,” he blurted. Liar, liar. If the uncomfortable heat welling in his center was any indication, his boxer briefs were probably on fire, because he’d reset the code right after moving back to the island. “Dad resets them every few months for safety reasons.”
His eye twitched.
He hadn’t consciously realized he’d used her birthday as the code until now.
Coincidence. Nothing more.
They stood there, silent.
“Well.” She picked at a cuticle. She finally lifted her gaze to his, and her chin trembled. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. I need to go unpack.”
“You didn’t unpack last night after you got here?” he blurted.
She looked away, the quiver in her chin turning to a quake. “I wasn’t sure if I should stay. It didn’t seem fair to you once I realized you hadn’t been informed that I was the trainer.”
Ah. She’d considered pulling another disappearing act. His gut twisted.
“Well, my suitcase isn’t going to unpack itself.” She turned to go.
His eyes stayed anchored to her back as she headed toward the main lodge with her dog at her side. Long locks of silky red hair swayed with each step.
Right. Unpack. He’d been back on the
island for several months and still had a suitcase full of suits sitting in the spare bedroom of Spence’s cottage he’d never bothered to unpack.
The last several months, he’d used his business sense to help guide the resort into a much better position, but he’d been on sabbatical long enough. It was time to confront Lily and demand she find a stand-in. If the sponsor wasn’t on board without a Remington taking the lead, that was okay.
Hell, who was he kidding? It was anything but okay. But just in case, he’d double his efforts to come up with a brilliant idea that would keep the resort coffers full every season of the year. Then he could get back in the game of high finance. There was a corner office down the coast with his name on it, and he wasn’t about to give up everything he’d worked for.
Now more than ever, there was no reason for him to unpack that bag. No reason at all. And he’d make sure to keep it that way.
Chapter Four
#HANGRY
Juggling a bag of Down Home dog food and two bowls, Rebel hurried over to the main lodge to unpack and feed Rem. She ignored her rumbling tummy and bypassed the delicious aroma coming from the dining room. She and Rem took the stairs to the second floor two at a time.
I’m such a chicken.
After spending a year homeless, she’d never been able to get past the sheepish feeling that came over her when she had to eat in front of people. She preferred to eat alone, for fear of making an uncouth fool of herself.
If that didn’t cause her enough social anxiety, she still hadn’t met up with the rest of the Remington clan. Truth was, facing Elliott for the first time was only half her worries. As uncomfortable as it had been all day while setting up in the garage, at least the initial shock of seeing him again was over. She wasn’t looking forward to facing his family. They’d treated her like family when she was a teen, and she’d repaid them by disappearing without so much as a thank-you.
And everyone on the island knew the Remingtons stuck together. They were good people, but if you crossed one, you crossed them all.
When she reached the landing, she turned right and headed down the long corridor. A middle-aged couple came out of a room on the left and smiled at Rem. Rebel nodded and hurried to the end of the hall. She tucked the bowls and dog food under one arm, swiped the card key across the panel, and let herself into the room. As soon as the door clicked shut, she leaned back against it and closed her eyes.
Her rush to get to her room might’ve been to avoid seeing the rest of the Remingtons, but her racing pulse was because of the garage door code.
Elliott had brushed it off like it was nothing. No show of emotion. No sign that it had been anything more than pure coincidence.
Still, when he’d spoken the numbers out loud, it’d hit her square in the chest and knocked the wind from her lungs.
Rem’s round, furry head came up under her free hand, and she molded her palm to it.
“Thanks, boy.” She’d never really needed a service dog of her own, but she had to admit they were a big comfort when her stress level spiked. Ever since the first stray dog found her sleeping on a park bench in Portland right after her mom died in the hospital, she’d had a dog at her side. Eventually, the comfort and companionship that dog provided had evolved into a career.
Thankful didn’t begin to describe how Rebel felt for her life turning out the way it had despite where she’d started. All because a lonely, abandoned stray had taken a chance and approached her with its tail between its legs.
She didn’t deserve that kind of unconditional love from either a human or an animal after covering up her mother’s atrocity, but that dog’s trust had saved her and given her something to hold on to.
She crouched and gave Rem a tight hug. “Ready to eat?”
He barked.
“I hear ya.” She rubbed her growling tummy as she filled the two bowls with water and food, then set them on the balcony.
Rem watched patiently until she gave him the signal that it was okay to eat. He dug in, devouring the chicken-and-rice-flavored food.
While he ate, Rebel took in the view. The full moon had risen high enough to outline the silhouette of the rocky tips of the mountains that bordered the island to the west.
The night chill bit at her cheeks, and she wandered inside, leaving the sliding glass door cracked for Rem.
She took in the room as she opened her suitcase and pulled out comfortable clothes. She had to hand it to the Remington. The inside of the resort was just as nice as the outside. The place was in great shape and seemed to be thriving.
She took a quick shower, arranged a stack of sweaters in a drawer, then started on the rest of her clothes.
Her stomach growled.
Last night she’d eaten the only protein bar in her purse and had nothing left but a few sticks of gum. Maybe the resort had installed vending machines on each floor like regular hotels, because now she wasn’t just hungry. She’d crossed that threshold and had breached the hangry zone.
Not a pretty sight.
Her mood could scare off a pack of rabid dogs when she went too long without eating.
She dug a few bills from her wallet, grabbed her room key, and went in search of sustenance. When she didn’t find a vending area on her wing, she passed the landing to search the other wing.
Nothing.
She wandered back to the landing and stared down the stairs where they bent and descended in the other direction. If she ventured downstairs, the likelihood of running into at least one Remington was better than good. She wasn’t ready for that after spending her first day on the job working with Elliott.
She crossed her arms and tapped a foot.
Her kingdom for a Twinkie. Or any other food that spit out of a machine with just the input of a little money and a punch of a few buttons. Soon she’d be desperate enough to eat the packaging too.
Oh, for God’s sake. She was being stupid.
She went to the top step and grabbed hold of the thick, old-fashioned banister. The overhead chandeliers glinted off the glossy finish of the dark wood.
Rebel prided herself on being tough. She’d survived a childhood with an addict for a mother and no father. She’d survived as a homeless teen with no one to turn to.
So why was she scared to face the Remington family? They’d probably forgotten her long ago.
She squared her shoulders and forced herself to take the first step. Then another.
See? Piece of cake.
Her confidence increased with each step until she’d almost reached the switchback in the staircase.
“Find someone to replace me.” Elliott’s voice filtered up from the lower level. “As soon as possible.”
Rebel stopped, her fingers tightening around the banister.
“I’m sorry,” Lily said. “Trace said you had some history with Ms. Tate, but no one else in the family will do it. It has to be you.”
So the entire Remington family did hate Rebel.
How nice.
Wasn’t their little reunion going to be cozy?
“This isn’t a request.” Elliott’s tone was stony. “I’m not working with her.”
“You agreed.” Lily’s voice was calm and encouraging. “I’ve already told the sponsor we’ll be ready. The service dogs arrive at the end of the week, and the veterans will be here a few days after that. They’re coming from all over Oregon and Washington.”
“Lily, I know you’re thinking of the resort, but this crosses a line. Whether you know it or not, finding a replacement for me is the least of your worries. I hope your trainer actually sticks around and doesn’t disappear after the campers are here.”
Rebel tried to steady her heavy breaths.
“She had a good résumé and even better references,” Lily argued. “I don’t know exactly what happened between you two, but it was a long time ago. She doesn’t seem like the type to just disappear without a good reason.”
Every ounce of air in the building vanished, and scalding heat
crept up Rebel’s neck.
A pang of guilt clawed at her insides.
“If you’re concerned about her reliability, then it’s best if you stay on as the point man for this event,” Lily argued. “You could keep an eye on things.”
“Find a replacement and make the sponsor understand it’s for the best.” Elliott’s voice was controlled but hardened. “Or cancel.”
No. Rebel’s hand went to her mouth. This camp was her chance to earn the money she needed to make an offer on the abandoned shelter before someone else discovered its potential.
“Elliott, the sponsor wants a family member.” Lily’s tone turned desperate. “I don’t have to explain to you what a setback it will be if the resort loses this event.”
It wouldn’t just be a setback for the Remington. It would likely be the death blow to Rebel’s dream. The commercial property she had her eye on would eventually sell, and she’d never have the money to build one from scratch. Offers like the one she’d gotten from Down Home Dog Food didn’t come along every day. They’d been desperate after the previous trainer pulled out so close to the start of the camp and had offered Rebel the moon. She needed the camp to work.
“We’ll find another event to bring in revenue during the off-season.” Elliott stayed firm. “This is something I can’t . . .” He stopped. “Scratch that . . . this is something I won’t do—”
Rebel shifted her weight, and a board in the step creaked.
Elliott and Lily went quiet.
Dammit.
Rebel didn’t think. Didn’t wait for them to walk up a few steps and find her eavesdropping. Instead, she turned and bolted up the stairs.
If Elliott found working with her distasteful enough to cancel such a lucrative event, then his hard feelings went far deeper than she’d imagined.
Her appetite gone, she ran to her room and slammed the door. Rem bounded in from the balcony and immediately pressed into her. She turned and locked the door for the night, shutting out Elliott’s harsh words. Shutting out the Remingtons’ low opinion of her.
Because it hurt. Hurt just as much as it would’ve ten years ago if she’d told them the truth, which was why she’d quietly snuck away. And why she’d leave again as soon as her job was done.
Dare Me Again Page 5
