by Debbie Burns
“My grandfather is an instructor there. He’s a retired consultant now, but he taught weapons instruction for most of his adult life. I was born in a post hospital down in Texas. My grandfather transferred to Fort Leonard Wood when I was a kid. We hardly ever left except on vacation to visit other posts.”
“Wow. No wonder you decided to be a military dog handler. At first I thought I’d be a vet, but I ended up coming home from college halfway through my sophomore year. It was how I connected with the shelter though, so I don’t regret it. I still take classes part time. I’m a senior credit-wise.”
“What will you do when you have a degree?”
She shrugged sheepishly. “Probably still work at the shelter. It just fits. I wouldn’t have to take many additional classes to be a vet tech though, and I love the medical aspect of animal care. Dr. Washington, our vet, lets me administer shots when he has the time.”
“You’d be a good vet or vet tech, whatever you decide on.”
Still at Kurt’s feet, the dog let out a sigh and rested her head on her front legs as if having determined she wasn’t going to be offered a slice of pizza. Earlier, Kurt had requested that for now, treats only be given at the end of the dogs’ training sessions. There’d be a time for pampering, he’d said, but it wasn’t yet.
That made sense to Kelsey, so she didn’t object. She wasn’t surprised that Kurt had a natural alpha-male demeanor that the dogs seemed to pick up on immediately. That was especially obvious with this dog. The single, short introductory session Kurt had had with her seemed to have cemented in her mind that he was the boss. She hardly even glanced Kelsey’s way. They weren’t even a full day into training, but Kurt’s talent was undeniable.
The dog was slender for a pit bull and seemed to be one of the calmest and most easygoing animals here. She was a light cream with a circle of white on her nose. Kelsey thought she was adorable. Suddenly, she noticed that the dog’s front legs were crossed daintily underneath her resting head.
“Hey, we don’t know her name, do we?”
Kurt shrugged. “I don’t think so.”
“We should call her Lady. Look how she’s got her front legs crossed.”
Kurt sat back in his chair and cocked an eyebrow at the pit, who immediately popped her head back up. “Yeah, that fits. That reminds me. How about bringing one of your fail-safe shelter dogs over in a few days? A neutered male who’s right in the middle of the pack, not too alpha and not too omega. Obviously one you’re betting has never been abused or in a fight.”
“Sure. What for?”
“There are a few who should be ready for the first steps of socialization soon. Going on short, leashed walks with another dog, activities like that.”
Kelsey immediately thought of Orzo. He was exactly the dog Kurt was describing. “Sure. I know who I can bring. A little corgi who gets along with everyone. And he’s really laid-back.”
“That works. And by the way,” Kurt said, lifting the last of his slice of ham and pineapple into the air, “this is surprisingly good. I didn’t think I’d like it, but I do. Almost better than the meat lover’s deluxe.”
“That one is too much meat for me. The straight pepperoni is good though. Maybe next time you’ll be ready to add a few veggies.”
He made a face. “You ever notice how dogs will eat almost anything, but they turn their heads from vegetables?”
“True, but they’re carnivores. I believe humans evolved eating more plants than animals.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been told my soul is really canine, so that explains a lot.”
She laughed. “You’ve just given me a second mission while we’re here: getting you to like veggies. At least some of them.”
“Honey,” Kurt said, finishing off his beer, “I’m betting we’ll have more success rehabbing these dogs than you will doing that.” He set down the bottle and picked at the label. “Though miracles happen.”
Honey. Kelsey could feel a deep blush rising above her collar. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone under the age of seventy had called her that.
His show of camaraderie this afternoon wasn’t something she’d expected. All of this—right down to sitting here on the back porch eating pizza with a so-hot-he’s-hard-to-look-at ex-marine—still felt surreal.
But whether she was ready for it or not, they’d be working in close quarters and getting to know each other very well over the next few months. He liked dogs—and was great with them—so she was inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt as far as being a good person. Whether he was or wasn’t, she’d discover soon enough.
You figured things out about people, working alongside them. And as good-looking as he was, that wouldn’t make up for a bad personality if he were hiding one. She’d be a liar to deny she was crushing on him, and she was hopeful he’d turn out to be as nice on the inside as he was outside. Really, really hopeful.
Finishing off his last slice, Kurt stood up and stretched, drawing her attention to the amazing torso under his formfitting T-shirt. “As they say, daylight’s wasting.” Then he gave the pit—Lady—a rub behind her ears.
“Thanks for the pizza,” Kelsey said, combining the leftovers into two boxes. “I think you’ve got dinner, a late-night snack, and breakfast covered, though I’ll let you do the apologizing to your arteries.”
He gave her a wink as he reached for the rest of the six pack of bottled beer to take inside. “It’s nothing a little liquid smoke won’t cure. It’s so damn artificial, it’ll unclog anything.”
Kelsey laughed. “It seems I have my work cut out for me.”
“You’ve no idea. I’ve been told more than once that I’m stubborn in every way a guy can be stubborn. I get it from my grandfather. So, I’ll go ahead and apologize for every bit of future contention right now.”
His tone was playful and easy and not at all hard to match. “I’d ask how you know there’s going to be contention, but in all honesty I’m betting the same thing.” She lifted the boxes and followed him into the kitchen, wondering what Sabrina Raven would think of the bustle suddenly filling her quiet old house.
* * *
It had been years since Kurt had felt genuine peace slip over him after the sun sank below the horizon and stars studded the sky. In Afghanistan and in the jungles of Honduras, he’d rarely been able to relax, even on nights when he was tucked in a bunk and crowded with the sounds and smells of other marines and a handful of dogs not far away. He hadn’t expected to be able to do so here either.
But the calm cradled his skin despite the surprise that accompanied it.
Standing under the stars, Kurt set his beer on the table and headed into the screened-in half of the porch. The pregnant Rott let out a whine as he approached. Kelsey had taken her outside an hour or so earlier, after making sure she ate a plentiful dinner.
Kurt hooked a leash onto the dog’s collar and led her around the yard long enough to ensure she was calm and obedient, then asked her to sit on command. When she did, he gave her an affectionate pat and a treat from his pocket, then made a show of letting her off leash.
He needed all these dogs to understand that freedom was earned and not taken. Elsewhere, most dogs could fail to understand this and there’d be little risk associated with it. Here that wasn’t certain. Most of these dogs matched or exceeded his strength, and their journeys so far in life hadn’t given them much reason to trust people. Even though it was in a dog’s nature to trust humans, seeing how willing and obedient the dogs were still amazed him.
Free from the confines of a leash, the Rott—Pepper, as Kelsey was calling her—gave her massive head a shake and trotted off into the yard before squatting to pee. Kurt headed back onto the porch for his beer. As a rule, he drank water, coffee, and beer—a variety of it—and, every once in a while, a cold glass of milk. He didn’t care for soda, and since he was eighteen, he’d nev
er drunk anything with an alcohol content greater than beer. And as with his grandfather, none of his acquaintances since high school had ever seen him inebriated. Drunken sprees and ADHD weren’t a good combination. Thankfully, he’d figured that out without causing any harm.
It had been dark when Kelsey left, and she’d looked tired. She’d commented before heading out how it was ironic that before this started, she swung by here every night on her way home from the shelter to feed Mr. Longtail. Now, she’d be leaving here and heading back to the shelter to pick up a dog to take home with her for the night. She didn’t have a dog of her own, she’d explained. Instead, she brought one of the shelter dogs home every night, and if she broke the habit now, she’d feel too guilty to sleep a wink.
She was all heart. This both touched and troubled him. Working with her would be a pleasure, even if it was one he wouldn’t allow himself to truly embrace. Everything would be fine so long as he kept her at a distance.
Other than when Kurt had looked out the front window and seen the Rott staring her down, only inches from that remarkable face of hers, Kelsey had proven to be smart and rational and to have a way with dogs. He thought back to that split second this afternoon when he’d bolted for the door, bracing himself for whatever was about to happen outside and knowing he was too many feet away to prevent it.
It had been all he could do not to hold Kelsey by the shoulders and lecture her until he was certain she understood what could’ve happened out there. He was committed to getting her through this with no harm coming her way or to the dogs. But he needed her not to take unnecessary risks. He’d managed to hold back, but she’d seemed to understand his thoughts anyway. And she’d shown she wasn’t one to back down easily from an argument. That was one more thing he liked about her.
Taking a swig of beer, Kurt eyed the silhouette of an owl standing watch on an exposed branch of an enormous oak tree at the back of the yard. If Kurt hadn’t been outside when it let out a series of soft, low hoots, he wouldn’t have known the owl was there. It seemed to be watching the dog sniff around the dark yard as if it had come across an interloper in its nightly hunting spot.
Inside, the rest of the dogs were quiet and calm, having settled down for the night. Out here, a cool, gentle breeze swept over Kurt’s skin. He was thankful to be back in the temperate zone where he’d grown up. Thankful to be out of the heat. The dry oven that was the desert, and the wet, stifling tropics. He wondered how long it would be before he forgot the sensation of the heat rising off the desert sand late at the night as if he were holding his hand over a radiator. Or standing guard in the jungle at night, listening to the howler monkeys crossing the tree canopy while he scoped openings in the thick, tropical forest for insurgents. One night he’d spotted a small, wild cat hunting at the edge of the base. About the size of a slender coyote, it had unusually large eyes and a sleek coat with spots and stripes. It was the most magnificent wild thing he’d ever come across. Later, he’d learned it was an ocelot.
He was still thinking about it when a very different feline stalked into view. Mr. Longtail. Who knew where the unusual cat had been this evening, but he was headed confidently toward the Rott, in full view of the owl. The enormous Maine coon was too big to ever end up dinner to an owl, but Kurt wasn’t so sure about the off-leash Rott. Setting down his beer, he whistled confidently.
Pepper—the name was sticking even though naming these dogs would create unnecessary emotional attachment—pricked up her ears and looked his way.
“Come here, girl,” Kurt called, half holding his breath as the cat trotted directly into the dog’s path. Like this afternoon, Pepper didn’t disappoint. She dropped into a play bow and woofed. Mr. Longtail stopped midstep as the hair along his back and tail stood out stick straight. As if he’d had no idea a dog was capable of such a baritone woof. Pepper didn’t seem to notice. She sniffed the cat all over, nudging his hind end off the ground with her strong head. Then, seemingly satisfied, she jogged around him and met Kurt halfway up the path.
He emptied his pocket of treats for her. Mr. Longtail followed, walking underneath her, straight to Kurt’s legs to rub against his jeans. The cat meowed, and Kurt was surprised to hear a deep, thrumming purr radiating from his chest. Kelsey had said she’d never heard the feline purr.
Kurt leaned down to scratch the cat’s chin. In return, Mr. Longtail rubbed contentedly against Kurt’s fingers. “Maybe you just didn’t like all the solitude.”
After getting Pepper back in her kennel, Kurt headed into the kitchen, Mr. Longtail following. He fed the cat and helped himself to a slice of cold pizza. He considered hunting down a notebook and pen and making a to-do list of all the items bouncing around his head, but even if he could find a pen and a notebook, he doubted he’d get halfway through writing the list before becoming distracted. Experience had proven he could tackle projects of almost any size, but he couldn’t make a list to save himself.
So instead, he dove into repairs of the Sabrina Raven estate the way he did everything else—focusing on whatever came to the front of his thoughts. It was a little after nine, and he figured he’d work until about one in the morning, doing what he could with the tools he’d found in the old carriage house at the back of the yard. Then he’d catch a few hours’ sleep and rise with the sun and the dogs.
He sorted through a bulky metal toolbox for all the flooring nails he could find. The toolbox was an antique and one of the favorite things he’d come across so far. If he was still around when the shelter held an estate sale, he’d purchase a few things for himself. The toolbox would be one of them.
“Come on, cat,” Kurt said to the watchful Mr. Longtail. He slipped the nails into his pocket and fisted the hammer, heading out of the kitchen. “You and I could likely use each other’s company. Let’s see if I can get those stairs to be a bit less of a hazard so I can make it up to one of those old feather beds you’ve been sleeping on.”
With a twitch of his tail, the cat followed him out of the kitchen, and Kurt suspected he was on the way to making an unlikely friend.
Chapter 8
The job that lay before them was just so massive. At the very least, they were going to need help from a few trusted volunteers. Kelsey suspected she’d have a hard time convincing Kurt to let some tasks fall to other people, but she couldn’t see how else the rehab was going to work. He’d requested that for a few days, he be the only one taking the dogs in and out of the kennels and furnishing their meals, top areas where aggression could arise.
However, that left him with an enormous job.
He was fine passing dogs off to her once he’d walked around with them and made sure they were calm and attentive. Kelsey then did a “middle” shift with each dog, taking them for walks around the backyard while he readied their breakfast. After she passed the dogs off again, he had them sit at attention, then fed each one a little by hand before placing the bowl in front of them. From start to finish with all the dogs, the whole process ended up taking the better part of four hours.
During it, Kurt was quite different from the laid-back guy he’d been during their meal yesterday. He didn’t say a word that wasn’t related to the training, and she suspected there were times he forgot she was there. One thing for sure, she’d never met anyone with his ability to communicate with and train dogs. As he worked, she could almost see him shedding layers of his world until it was only him and the dog before him.
He was commanding and alert without being harsh or overpowering. During her years working at the shelter, she’d witnessed harsh and overpowering from a few people who’d come in claiming to have a way with dogs but who just intimidated them until the dogs were uncomfortable and submissive. In no way was this Kurt. His voice was never raised, and his movements were slow, fluid, and a bit exaggerated. Easy for the dogs to observe.
By the time the morning was over, Kelsey was willing to bet all thirty-seven dogs in their care had
accepted him as an alpha and master. All except one, that was. Judging by the dog’s behavior both in the kennel and out, Kelsey was harboring doubts the cranky giant of a dog could be won over by anyone. He snarled when other dogs passed within six feet of his kennel, had all but refused to reenter it after a late-evening bathroom break last night, and pulled away from any sort of human touch or affection.
It was something, watching Kurt work. And a good experience for her too. That clingy feeling she’d carried around the last two days—reminiscent of a few embarrassing high school crushes she’d had—fell away like crumbs off a cookie. In its place, true admiration formed.
And after a dozen passes of the leash, she even stopped feeling the hiccup in her stomach every time their hands brushed. But that also might’ve had something to do with the fact that each leash pass was exponentially easier than the first when he’d placed both hands tightly atop hers to show her the best way to hold the extra leash for maximum control. During those few seconds, she’d grown seriously light-headed. His hands were perfect. They were well muscled, and the skin of his palms was tough without being overly calloused—and just maybe a part of her would’ve been okay with having him hold on forever.
That had happened while she was taking over care of the Akita so Kurt could get the dog’s breakfast ready. The observant dog had turned around to look at Kelsey as if it had picked up on her raging hormones. Thankfully, Kelsey had pulled it together and not let her mind trail deeper into the land of hand-touching fantasies.
After that, perhaps due to being shamed by a dog, she held the leash exactly right and didn’t need any more reminders. She forced her focus to be on all the amazing things she was likely to learn from Kurt over the next few months.
After the next-to-last dog was back in her kennel, Kurt looked directly at Kelsey for the first time in over an hour. “Let’s save the cranky giant till your friend Patrick arrives. You saw that it was all I could do to get him back into his kennel last night. And I’ve got the sense that dog has a stubborn streak bigger than mine. We might need a third set of hands around him for a while. I suspect he’ll be testing us the next couple of days.”
