Only to open them and find him frozen in place again with a sultry look that said she’d struck a nerve. A nerve that was probably located somewhere a fanny pack would cover. Except he wasn’t wearing one.
He shifted uncomfortably and glowered.
She smiled and washed down ten thousand calories or so with a drink of coffee. “Put your hand flat against his haunches and press down.”
It took him a second to refocus on the dog. Finally, palm down, he smoothed a hand along Oscar’s back. When Elliott got almost to the tail, he hesitated.
She discarded her food onto the stump and retrieved her notepad and pencil. “That’s it. Now slowly apply pressure to see how much he can withstand.”
“What’s the purpose?” Elliott asked.
“Oscar’s big and strong. He might be a good match for a veteran who has lost a limb or is disabled physically. We need to make sure Oscar can handle pressure from body weight.” She twirled an index finger as if to say proceed.
“If you say so.” Elliott pressed down on Oscar, and the dog didn’t budge.
“Excellent!” She picked up two sticks, found a comfy spot under the trees, and sat cross-legged. Rem and Bogart flanked her. “Now, hold the treats in your fist, and keep your fist at your chest. Say ‘look’ and just stand still, looking straight at him until his attention is firmly on you and nothing else.”
It took less than ten seconds for the dog to look up at Elliott and still like he was in the zone.
“Good,” she said gently. “I’m going to beat these sticks together. Don’t look at me, and don’t move. Stay exactly like you are now.” She pounded them together like drumsticks.
Neither the dog nor Elliott moved, and their attention didn’t waver.
Rem, on the other hand, skittered away and hid behind the stump.
“Good. Oscar doesn’t get distracted when he’s working.” She put the sticks down. “Now, tell him to sit with a firm tone—”
“Sit,” Elliott growled before she could finish explaining the proper way to issue a command.
The dog’s ears folded back like he’d been scolded.
Rebel slowly blinked. “I said be firm, not sound like Attila the Hun.”
Elliott scrubbed his knuckles across his five-o’clock shadow, the stubble just visible enough to look sexy.
Meow.
“My tone is authoritative,” he said.
“You just keep telling yourself that,” she countered, forcing her thoughts back to the dog. “Try it again, and the second he obeys give him an enthusiastic yes, then hand him a treat.”
Elliott blew out his cheeks like she’d asked him to disprove Einstein’s theory of relativity. He was probably smart enough to do just that, which made it even more hilarious that a guy who had both brains and brawn couldn’t manage a dog who was already trained with the basics.
She was about to give up on the training tutorial, but he issued the command. When Oscar plopped onto his haunches, Elliott looked stunned.
“Yes,” she mouthed.
“Yes,” Elliott repeated, and gave Oscar a treat and a pat on the head. “That’s amazing. I can’t believe I’m training a dog.”
“Actually, you’re not.” She stood with her pad and brushed the grass off her bottom. “His handler already trained him with the essentials.” She gave Rem the command to follow her, and he finally eased out from behind the stump. “My job is mostly about training humans.” She joined Elliott with Rem and Bogart at her side. “Once the human is trained, the dog follows suit.”
“Huh.” Elliott processed that. “If you were training me, where’s my reward?”
“I thought you got plenty?” She moved on. “Let’s try the touch command next. It can eventually transition into turning on light switches and such for a disabled companion.”
“Really?” Elliott asked, all wide-eyed and wonder.
“Yes, really.” She led him through the basic commands, making notes about Oscar.
When they were done, she said, “He’s going to make a great service dog.”
“Hiya.” Jax sauntered out of the garage carrying a bundle.
She felt another eye roll coming on when Elliott stiffened.
“I found someone’s pillow and blanket in the garage,” Jax said. “Mind if I hang out on it later and read when the furry bros are eating in their crates?”
Oh God. She did not want Elliott to know about the damn pillow and blanket. She should’ve left them in her room and slept on the concrete floor with nothing but a big plush dog toy as a pillow. She’d certainly endured worse when she was a homeless teen.
“He can read?” Elliott whispered.
She glared at him. “Be nice.”
“Jax, what are you reading?” Elliott asked.
“Graphic novels,” Jax said.
Elliott lifted a brow.
At least the bedroll hadn’t sparked any questions.
“Jax, can you take Oscar? And they need a potty break when they’re done drinking. Elliott and I are going to try to reach the sponsor again.”
Jax nodded and took Oscar away.
“He’s very obedient,” Elliott said with a cocky smile. “So is the dog.”
“I’d hire Jax in an instant when I get my own facility.” She clamped her mouth shut. The less Elliott knew about her life, the easier it would be to keep their time together about business.
A wrinkle appeared between his eyes. “You don’t already have your own place?”
Dammit. “I work freelance.” She didn’t want to talk about her business plan. Not only could it give him more food for thought, but also because it still seemed too good to be true. It was like the abandoned property had been waiting just for her, a perfect ready-built solution offered at a bargain-basement price to finally make her dream come true.
A dream that would allow her to give back after all her mother had taken away.
The camp brought that impossible dream closer, but it wouldn’t be a done deal until she could make an official offer.
“So.” She changed the subject. “How about we call the sponsor again, then test the rest of the dogs. Maybe you can try out some of what you’ve learned on Bogart.”
“You want me to train a dog who could qualify for a handicap sticker himself?” Elliott huffed.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she shot back. “I’ll be doing most of the training. It’ll be more like practice for you.”
Ten minutes later, they were sitting in Elliott’s office. He’d claimed the chair behind his desk and dialed the phone, while she got comfortable in the armchair across from him. The call must’ve gone to voice mail again because Elliott all but growled. “Mr. Collins, this is Elliott Remington again. I’ve called. I’ve left messages. And I’ve called more. It’s time we conduct business like professionals, or we’ll have a problem on our hands. Aren’t there interviews lined up? Lots of eyes on this event in both the community and the press?”
He didn’t use the same flowery tone Lily wielded like a weapon. Elliott’s was different but just as convincing in an I’m a formidable businessman who you don’t want to mess with kind of way. “Call me back by the end of the day.” He hung up, leaving off an “or else” that was oh so apparent in his voice.
She blew out a breath. “Hopefully, they’ll get back to us soon.”
“If I have to go to their office and beat down the door, we’ll speak to them.” He leaned forward with his elbows propped on the desk. “I may not know anything about dogs, but I know plenty about business. You have my word, they will answer your questions.”
Not only did she believe him, but his take-no-prisoners attitude made a tingle start way too far south of the border.
She crossed her legs and clenched again. Good Lord, she was going to have buns of steel by the time the camp was over. “Thank you.” She examined a cuticle. “This evening, we can compare my notes with the veterans’ profiles. Maybe pick three or four potential matches for each vet.”
“Over dinner.” He used the same self-confident, take-charge tone.
Her head popped up. Having dinner with him was not a good idea. Not at all. “I don’t—”
“Hey there,” a strong masculine voice said from the doorway behind her.
“Hi, Dad.” Elliott’s chair creaked as he leaned back.
She cringed. Drew in a deep breath and pushed out of her chair to face Elliott’s father for the first time since she’d arrived. “Hello, Lawrence.” Besides the white hair and a small spare tire around the middle, age hadn’t changed him that much. “It’s so good to see you.” And it was. He’d been like the father she’d never known.
“I heard we had an expert dog trainer in the house who was an old friend.” His voice was cautious, but his eyes sparkled with affection. “Why am I just now seeing you, Rebel?”
Because she’d been busy. Places to go. People not to see.
“I’m sorry.” She had a hard time meeting his gaze. “Taking the job was so sudden, and I’ve been playing catch-up since I got here because I didn’t have time to prepare ahead of time.” Sounded legit. Even if it was a load of dog poo.
He took her in, his posture relaxing. “Time doesn’t stop, does it? You’re all grown up now, just like my boys. Right, son?”
Elliott didn’t respond. Instead, his gaze coasted over her.
Her cheeks must’ve gone up in flames because the room suddenly grew so hot she wanted to fan herself.
“I always wanted a daughter just like you. Give me a hug.” Lawrence held out his arms.
When she stepped into his fatherly embrace, her eyes grew wet.
“I heard the service dogs arrive,” Lawrence said as he let her go.
Elliott’s head bobbed. “Trace flew them in yesterday.”
Lawrence cupped a hand around his ear. “I mean I actually heard them when I was in the main lodge last night. So did our guests.”
“I checked on the dogs pretty late, and they were worked up,” Rebel said. “Probably separation anxiety because they’ve been taken away from their training handlers.”
“A dog spends two years with a trainer, and then it’s taken away?” Lawrence asked. “That’s cruel.”
“It’s definitely an emotional experience.” Which was why she was going to do things differently when she opened her own facility. “The anxiety will get better once the dogs are matched. Once I got them calmed last night”—she picked at a nail—“I figured out a way for them to stay settled so they wouldn’t keep everyone up all night.”
Elliott frowned. “How?”
She would not let on that she’d spent the night in the garage. “Oh, you know.” She flashed a brilliant smile at them both. “I worked my magic.” She used Elliott’s own words to deflect.
“I called your room to see if I could help you somehow with the noise,” Lawrence said. “But there was no answer.”
Well, poo.
Elliott folded his arms across his chest and pushed farther into the back of his chair.
“Would you like to see our setup in the garage?” She took a step toward the door. “I can show you right now.”
“No.” Elliott’s tone had her stopping in her tracks. “We’re waiting on a really important call from the sponsor. You can show Dad later.”
“How’s the camp coming along?” Lawrence asked.
She couldn’t lie to him. “Well, it isn’t—”
“It’s great,” Elliott said at the same time.
Okaaaay. Mr. Glass Half-Empty wasn’t being honest with his father. But why would he lie?
“This is a really good thing you’re doing for people who’ve served our country.” Lawrence scratched his temple. “When I came home from ’Nam, there was no counseling or service dog programs. We had to deal as best we could on our own.” He leaned against the doorframe. “Some adjusted to civilian life again. Some didn’t.”
She could relate. During the year she’d had nowhere to live, she’d visited her share of homeless shelters and soup kitchens. While they were a huge help, they didn’t solve the bigger problem of getting lives back on track. She’d encountered a lot of different folks in those homeless hangouts, and many had been veterans. Some people found their way to a better life, like she had. Some were still holding signs on a street corner somewhere unknown.
Either way, the stigma of once being homeless clung to a person like a disease, and they were never able to completely shake it.
“Dad, can I catch up with you later? Rebel and I are swamped, and the veterans will be here tomorrow.”
“Sure thing.” He pushed off the doorframe. “Let me know if I can help.”
As soon as Lawrence left, she tried to put on a bright face and said, “Ready to get back to work?”
“Shut the door.” There went that authoritative voice again.
This time she didn’t find it quite as admirable. Or sexy.
When she pushed the door shut, she turned and leaned against it.
He rested a hand against his jaw and tapped his forefinger on his temple.
Maybe his brilliant mind hadn’t connected the dots between the pillow, the blanket, and her admission that she’d found a way to quiet the dogs all night long. Maybe his steel-trap memory had failed and he’d forgotten all about the pillow and blanket Jax found in the garage.
Maybe snowballs existed in hell.
“Want to explain why you slept in a cold garage last night with a bunch of dogs?” He pointed to the ceiling. “When you have a perfectly nice room inside.”
Rebel sighed. It was going to be one hell of a month. “How I handle the dogs”—she put a hand on the doorknob and turned it—“is my decision. I’m the trainer. You just take care of the sponsor.” She tugged the door open. “I’m going back to the garage to do what you hired me to do. Meet me there if you want. Or not.” She stepped through the doorway. “It’s your choice.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she closed the door in her wake and got the hell out of there.
Chapter Nine
#MANNERSMAKETHEMAN
After they finished testing the rest of the dogs, Elliott marched to the game room to blow off steam. Steam was putting it mildly. The sponsor still hadn’t returned his calls; Rebel had been evasive about her questionable sleeping arrangements; she’d refused to discuss the potential matches over dinner, claiming she wasn’t hungry; and he’d misled his dad about the event.
What good would it have done to alarm his father before Elliott had a chance to resolve the problems with Down Home Dog Food? If he could just get them on the phone, he’d straighten things out. Or die trying. Which he just might because his blood pressure had reached stroke level.
Once he’d discovered Rebel had slept in the garage with the dogs, he’d been simmering like a volcano ready to erupt.
Who did that? And why hadn’t she asked for help? Better yet, why had she gotten so defensive when he’d questioned her about it?
When he reached the game room, he grabbed the doorknob but stopped. Turned to take in the colorful sunset.
Sunsets, playing pool with his brothers, seeing his dad, his nephew, and his cousin and her daughter had allowed contentment to bud in him for the first time since he went off to college. He was going to miss them when he left the island.
What he wouldn’t miss were the constant reminders of his mother and his part in her absence. She was everywhere. He saw her in the paintings that hung in the family den, the way the kitchen was designed, and the shrubs she’d planted on the grounds when he was a kid.
Thank God he had a kick-ass job in Cali to go back to that kept his brain focused on the future instead of the past.
He threw open the door and stepped inside. “Whose ass am I kicking at pool today?”
With several balls left on the table, his brothers were obviously in the middle of a game.
Spence sank a shot. “In your dreams, asshat.”
If his little brother only knew. Pool wasn’t what Elliott had b
een dreaming about. Lately his dreams had been about flowing red hair across his pillow, plump lips, and moaning. Lots and lots of moaning.
Fuck.
“Thing One,” Trace greeted him. “Where are your sidekicks? Lily mentioned something about a skittish Lab and a three-legged dog.”
Huh. Elliott didn’t think Lily had noticed Bogart’s odd number of limbs. Then again, Lily didn’t miss much, even if she didn’t let on to it.
Elliott went to the dartboard and picked the darts from the cork. “They’re with their master. She’s taking a break in her room. We’ve been at it all day.” Plus, she was probably exhausted from sleeping on the floor of the garage like a homeless person.
Something prickled down his spine, and he paused. He shook it off.
Pacing off roughly nine feet, he turned and hammered a dart dead-ass center. It hit the red circle with a thud that made the wall shudder and shake.
From the corner of his eye, he didn’t miss the look his brothers exchanged. They came to his end of the room and slid onto the edge of the pool table to watch him chuck the next dart. Which he did with enough force that it could’ve landed on the mainland if the board hadn’t been in the way. It stuck a pinprick away from the first dart.
“Soooo,” Trace drawled. “I take it the camp isn’t going well? Or are you in such a cheery mood because of having to work with your ex-girlfriend?”
“My mood is fine.” Dart number three struck just outside the red center with a thwack. His overactive imagination was the problem. It kept forming images of velvety red hair against creamy naked skin that tickled his bare chest and his—
Not even the thought of old wrinkly guys in Speedos was working.
“Right.” Spence wrapped both hands around his stick and leaned forward, bracing his weight against it. “Then why’re you throwing so hard those darts could drill a hole through the wall?”
“I’m tired of these childish dares.” Elliott stalked to the board to retrieve the darts.
“They’re fun,” Trace said. “That’s how I found Lily.”
“They’re stupid.” Elliott hoofed it back to the other side of the room. “And you’d have met her anyway.” Another dart plunged into the cork just outside the red bull’s-eye. “Since she works here and all.”
Dare Me Again Page 11
