The way she moaned and dug her nails into his back told him she was close. So he reversed his hips and drove into her to the hilt.
She let out a short, sharp scream as her muscles contracted and quivered around him, pulling him over the edge too. Their heartbeats drummed in unison as they floated on the clouds, then slowly descended.
Rem whined from the door.
He smiled against her neck. “I’m surprised he actually runs toward that kind of scream. I bet it rattled windows on the mainland.”
She bit his earlobe.
“Ouch,” he said with a playful laugh. He set her down and turned off the water. “Come on.”
She followed him out of the shower, and they toweled each other off, getting hot and bothered again in the process. She reached for the condom he’d left on the counter.
“Uh-uh.” He grasped her hand and brought it to his lips to feather soft kisses across the inside of her wrist. “I’m hungry. Let’s order room service.” He trailed more kisses over her soft skin. “I’ll even turn away if you don’t feel comfortable eating in front of me.” He placed a soft kiss at the corner of her mouth where she nibbled it when she was nervous. “But I’d rather you let me feed you.”
More pink seeped into her cheeks.
While they waited for their food to arrive, Elliott pulled on his pants and got a fresh terry-cloth robe from the closet with THE REMINGTON stitched onto the front. He lounged against the headboard and patted his lap. “Room service said they’re pretty backed up in the kitchen. It’s going to be a little while before our food gets here.”
Rebel finished brushing out her wet hair, gave Rem and Bogart the command to stay on their mat in the entryway, then climbed onto his lap. She turned onto her side and cuddled against his chest as he circled her in his arms. He placed a gentle kiss in her hair.
“How do you feel about inviting Dan Morgan over soon so we can introduce him to Bogart?” Elliott asked gently, trying to ease into the subject. Following through with her plan to help Dan might help relieve some of the guilt she still carried over her mother’s role in his accident.
Elliott was an expert on the subject of pent-up guilt and self-recrimination.
She tensed from head to toe. “I’m . . . I’m not ready.”
Rem whined from his mat in the entryway.
“Come on.” Elliott called him over.
Rem rocketed onto the bed and nestled next to them. Bogart, unable to jump very high, settled on the floor next to the bed.
Elliott stroked the length of her damp hair. “Don’t we have to pair them soon?”
“I . . .” Her voice went croaky, and she cleared her throat. “Sure. I mean, this is kind of a test case, but it’s ideal if they meet early in the training to see if they bond. And of course we need to speak to Dan’s parents—that is, if he still lives with his parents, since he’s . . . well, you know, but we’ve got so much to do, and the vets will be here tomorrow, finally, and we’re already behind schedule, and I really need this camp to work out, and—”
He framed her face with his hands and tipped her head up. He kissed her long and lovingly until a soft, sexy sound escaped from the back of her throat. When she relaxed against him again, he broke the kiss.
“It might make you feel better,” he said. “Especially since we won’t be on the island forever. Before you know it, we’ll both be going back to our lives.” He wanted to get lost in the fantasy that they both had a lifetime. But that was more than a fantasy. It was an outright lie.
The lamplight glinted off the wetness that filled her beautiful eyes.
“You’re . . .” A tear slid over her creamy cheek, and he kissed it away. She sniffed. “You’re so sweet. You always were.”
He chuckled. “Of all the adjectives used to describe me, sweet has never been one of them.”
“That’s my point.” She curled into him. “To everyone else, you’re a badass. But to me, you’re sweet.”
“I want to help. I want you.” He tightened his embrace so she’d feel safe. He hadn’t been there for her when she lived on the streets, lonely and vulnerable, but he could be there for her now. He wanted her to lean on him. “But I won’t lie to you. I don’t know where we go from here. My life in San Francisco wouldn’t make you happy.” He wished like hell it would, but he knew better. “Most of the partners at my firm have been through more than one divorce because they’re never around for their families.”
But that didn’t mean he and Rebel couldn’t discuss potential solutions to their dilemma.
“I don’t expect forever, Elliott,” she whispered. “I let you go once. I can do it again.”
His heart skipped a few beats.
Not what he expected her to say after the secrets and the intimacy they’d shared. Rebel had always been strong. Tough. Independent. Things he’d admired. Now he wasn’t so sure he liked those traits at all because they were working against him. Apparently, their time together hadn’t meant nearly as much to her as it had meant to him. And probably never had if she was willing to let go so easily. For the second time.
Chapter Seventeen
#MATCHMADEINHEAVEN
The next morning, Rebel hustled around the garage after matching the first four veterans with their new companions.
Besides an unfortunate leg-hiking incident that soiled an ex–Army Ranger’s backpack, it had gone smoothly. That veteran—all six feet four of high-octane testosterone and bad attitude due to a strategically placed roadside bomb—was now on his knees, hugging a black female Lab named Fiona with tears streaking his cheeks.
Rebel flipped through her notes and read the names of four more veterans to Elliott. “Can you escort these out and bring the next group in?” she asked, trying to keep things moving along at a fast clip. It was her only option, since he’d confided his reason for not pursuing an extension for the camp. She’d try her best to make it work, because just as she couldn’t have allowed Elliott to give up his scholarship because of her problems, she wouldn’t ask him to let go of his dream so she could pursue her own. She cared too much for him to be that selfish.
“Sure.” Elliott gave her the same vacant smile he’d had on since he’d told her his life in San Francisco wasn’t suited for long-term relationships.
Probably for the best. As a partner in a prestigious financial firm, he’d need a woman on his arm who fit the part. Immaculately dressed, well educated.
Not someone who wore rubber boots to clean out dog runs and barely finished high school because of her mother’s drinking binges.
It sucked, but no one knew how bad life could suck more than her. She was a big girl, and she’d deal.
“Which dogs should I take out?” Jax asked from behind her.
She jumped, her notepad clattering to the floor.
She scrambled to pick it up, then flipped through them. “Let’s take out Nestlé, Simba, Harley, and Valentine.”
“When’s the little dude coming back to help?” Jax asked.
“Ben will be here after school,” she said.
A few minutes later, Elliott walked in with four vets following. His natural-born leadership was so obvious just by the way he carried himself. He took charge the same way in bed.
She couldn’t stop her tongue from darting out to trace her top lip, his taste still there from the previous night’s romp. But a switch had flipped in the few hours that had passed, and he was distant.
Jax got the next set of dogs ready and leashed.
When the vets were lined up in front of her, she said, “Are you ready to meet your matches?”
The four veterans mumbled or said nothing at all, which was often how PTSD and TBI matching started. Once they were paired, they came out of their shells.
“We’re going to start with these dogs. When you’re matched, you can explore the grounds, maybe pop into your room so your new companion can get familiar with it before bedtime.”
Normally, she’d give new pairings several days to bond at
home before starting their training. Because of their condensed schedule, they had to start immediately.
She reached into her pocket and pressed the clicker. All four dogs went still and focused on her. She retrieved a treat for each Labrador from her fanny pack and nodded for Jax to unleash them.
Then she watched and waited.
Elliott eased up beside her. “When do we start matching this group?”
Rem came to his side.
“We’ve already started.” She nodded to the dogs. “Watch.”
Three of the dogs stayed close to her, waiting for another treat. But the chocolate Lab named Nestlé went to a veteran who could pass for an eighties rock star. He knelt and draped his arms around Nestlé’s neck.
She lowered her voice so only Elliott could hear. “The dog often picks the person. When a pair clicks so quickly, it’s almost always a lock.”
Sergeant Rock Star leaned his forehead against Nestlé’s and scratched behind both ears. The dog didn’t pull away but sat still, already reading his companion’s cues.
“This initial bonding sets up the next step in their training process.” She turned a satisfied smile on Elliott. “The way they’re already trusting each other tells me it’s going to be a match made in heaven.”
Her favorite hashtag. And one she used with an uploaded pic to Instagram every time a dog found its perfect companion.
“Trust between companions. I’m guessing that nonverbal bond is how they learn they’ll always be there for each other.” He met her gaze, his lovely eyes raking over her face. “I can see why it’s an integral part of the relationship.”
She got the feeling he wasn’t just talking about the campers. “Trust . . .” She glanced at the new match. “Trust is more difficult for humans because it makes us vulnerable.”
“True.” Elliott’s gaze still licked over her. “But isn’t vulnerability what makes us human to begin with?”
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Yup.” He folded his arms. “Just getting familiar with how things work in your world.”
“Um . . . well, let’s move on, then.”
She didn’t offer the dogs any more treats. Instead, she led them to the veterans. “Interact with them, get on their level, and play with them or pet them.” She went and got several toys and balls out of a box and passed them around. It took a full hour, but two more of the veterans had been paired with only one left.
A young woman by the name of Maggie, who had one maimed arm and was using a cane for her severe limp, hadn’t found her match.
Rebel flipped through her notes, then pointed to two more crated dogs. “Jax, can you bring out those two?”
Maggie’s posture was stiff, and she wasn’t overly friendly with any of the dogs.
Rebel sat on the floor with her legs crossed, and the dogs surrounded her. “Maggie, can you sit like this?”
Maggie gave her a timid nod. It took a minute, but she finally lowered herself to the floor, using her cane for support.
None of the dogs went to her.
“Now call them to you.” Rebel sat still, not petting or encouraging the dogs in any way.
Maggie smooched to get the dogs’ attention and patted her leg. Squeaks stayed by Rebel, but a cream Lab named Rooney and a strapping red Lab named Bear went to Maggie.
She glanced at Elliott, who was watching with such intense interest that it filled her with pride. “Can you hold Rem back?” The next step in the matching process might get high stress, and she didn’t want Rem intruding if he decided to respond to the vet’s anxiety.
Elliott knelt and gripped the handle on Rem’s vest.
She motioned for Jax to take away the dog who hadn’t shown any interest in Maggie.
“Maggie, give them both a treat.” Rebel lowered her voice so the dogs would keep their attention on the veteran. After Maggie retrieved the treats from her fanny pack, Rebel said, “Now, try to stand up as fast as you can.” Rebel knew it would be a struggle with her physical handicaps.
Maggie gave Rebel a distrusting look that said hell no.
“Trust me, okay?” Rebel said in a soothing tone. She glanced at Elliott, because the fact that they’d just been talking about trust wasn’t lost on her. She shook it off and concentrated on Maggie. “I don’t want you to be cautious when you stand. I want you to try to get up fast.”
It took Maggie several minutes to work up the nerve. Her eyes darted around as her anxiety obviously escalated, and a sheen of perspiration beaded on her forehead.
Oddly, Rem didn’t respond to her stress but stayed focused on Elliott and Rebel.
Rebel didn’t break eye contact with Maggie, but she kept a confident, encouraging expression on her face and patiently waited.
Finally, Maggie awkwardly tried to use her cane to climb to her feet. When she lost her balance, Bear stepped into the path of her fall, and Maggie grabbed on to him.
And there was the perfect match Rebel had been hoping for.
Maggie knew it too, because she sat back down, threw her arms around Bear’s neck, and broke down into a sob that racked her entire body.
It never failed to fill Rebel’s eyes with tears and her heart with pure joy.
Elliott still hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t moved a muscle. She got up and went to him, watching the new pair as they bonded.
He let go of Rem and stood, never taking his eyes off the new match.
She kept her voice low to give Maggie time to empty out her emotions and recover. “After what wounded veterans have been through, they tend to shut down emotionally and throw up walls, quietly living in their own personal hell. Until they reach a breaking point and finally let themselves rely on another being.”
For a second, Rebel’s world tilted off-balance.
She had done the same thing. For ten long years, she’d existed in a private purgatory no one could understand. Until she’d finally confided in Elliott.
Then he’d proceeded to emotionally, if not physically, withdraw.
“It’s a very moving experience,” he whispered.
“Yes.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “But it’s so much more.” Pulling her ponytail over one shoulder, she twisted it around her finger absently.
Rem whined at her side. It wasn’t a comforting whine like when her anxiety level spiked. It was more urgent.
“What is it, boy?” She knelt to his level.
He barked and took off to the corner where Bogart lay on a foam mat. She’d been so busy with the veterans that she hadn’t noticed his listlessness. She went and sat next to Bogart, feeling his nose. It was bone-dry and warm. Strange, since he’d been fine when they arrived at the garage early that morning.
Elliott’s forehead scrunched as he joined them. “What’s up?”
She shook her head. “Bogart isn’t feeling well.” She stroked the dog’s head. He didn’t bother to lift it he was so lethargic. “There’s a veterinarian on the island?”
Elliott nodded. “Lily has Dr. Shaw on alert for the camp, and she even asked him to make house calls if necessary.”
Rebel stroked the length of Bogart’s frame again. “I think it’s necessary.”
Before she could ask Elliott to make the call, he had his phone out. When he finished dialing, he held the phone to his ear. “Hi, this is Elliott Remington. We have a sick dog here. Can Dr. Shaw come take a look?” He looked at Rebel as he listened.
She forced a confident smile.
He did the same. “Uh-huh. Thank you.” He stuffed his phone back into his pocket. “Dr. Shaw has a full schedule today. He’ll try to get here as quickly as possible, but it might take a while.”
She put on a brave face. “Maybe it’s nothing.”
There were two likely chances of that—fat and slim. Rebel had a decade of experience with canines, and her instincts said Bogart wasn’t just having a bad day. If he was contagious, she might not be able to get a job as a professional poop scooper after all was said and done because bringi
ng a sick stray into the camp wouldn’t scream success when the sponsor showed up to conduct interviews for the media. What it would scream was that, as a trainer, she sucked. Hard.
Her dream of using the boot camp as a springboard into opening her own facility and attracting donors just got a little further out of reach. And if Bogart’s condition was serious, she’d never forgive herself for not taking him to the vet as soon as she’d taken him in.
Elliott had graduated at the top of his class from the most prestigious business school in the country. He’d outperformed the best financial analysts on both coasts. He’d doubled his firm’s megaclient list in record time.
Damned if he knew what to do with a sick animal and a trainer who looked nervous enough to set off every service dog between Angel Fire Falls and the Canadian border.
After they’d matched the last of the veterans, Dr. Shaw still hadn’t shown up. So they loaded Bogart into the back of Elliott’s Jeep, left Rem with Jax, and headed to the veterinarian.
Fifteen minutes later, they parked in front of Dr. Shaw’s office.
“I’ve got Bogart.” Elliott got out and jogged around to the back passenger door. Bogart hadn’t budged from where Elliott had laid him in the back seat, bundled in a blanket he’d dug out of one of the supply boxes. He scooped him up in his arms and carried him the same way he’d seen Trace carry Ben as a baby.
The assistant led them to an exam room right away, and Elliott laid Bogart on the metal table. Rebel stroked the wiry coat across the dog’s rib cage. Elliott stepped close so the front of his shoulder and chest brushed against Rebel’s back. She leaned back into him just enough for the contact to warm him. Soothe him. Relax him.
The same way Rem seemed to do for both Elliott and Rebel.
How had she so quickly become the Elliott Whisperer? Because she was balm to his driven type-A soul.
He stared down at her as she worried her bottom lip.
He wanted to have the same calming effect on her, but she hadn’t hesitated to say she’d be able to let him go. Apparently, his presence didn’t provide the same comfort that he got from hers.
Dare Me Again Page 20
