by Debbie Burns
He shifted on the ladder, causing it to bounce and jiggle. Kelsey grabbed ahold of one of the lower rungs, nearly dropping her phone in the process. Apparently unconcerned about the jiggling, Kurt stopped taping and brushed a hand over his back pocket, drawing her attention to his fabulous derriere. “If you want the truth, I forgot I had it. Can’t you feel the air pressure dropping? I’m no weatherman, but I can tell when a thunderstorm is coming.”
Kelsey made a face. “When the winds pick up and the sky darkens, I can.”
He chuckled and ripped off another piece of duct tape. From here, the window frame blocked the silver tape from view, so hopefully it wouldn’t be visible from the street either. Not that duct tape would stand out much in comparison to the couple of missing bricks or the peeling paint on the shutters and porch or the run-down carriage house out back.
Kelsey was surprised by the rush of emotion that swept over her as she thought about all the work the house needed to really shine again. At one point, she wouldn’t have cared if the old mansion was torn down and a new one was built in its place whenever it went up for sale, or if, like the dogs, it was rehabbed. Not anymore. Now she’d be willing to put up a battle to make sure whoever eventually bought it was intent on restoring it. The old place had way too much history to be knocked down. Whoever the eventual new owners were, they just had to pump the life back into it that Sabrina Raven had given it for so many years. And hopefully they’d get her garden going again too.
“That should do it,” Kurt said, dropping the tape and X-ACTO knife into the worn leather tool belt.
Kelsey held the ladder for his first several steps down, then backed away as his feet reached chest level. He quite possibly had the best rear end she’d ever seen, and she could feel her cheeks flaming hot to prove it.
“I made a pretzel run,” she said, holding up the bag and hoping it drew attention away from her blush. “And I hope you like root beer. It’s so warm today that I thought it would hit the spot.”
“Sounds perfect. Thanks.” He took one of the extended bottles and twisted off the cap. He slipped the cap into his pocket rather than tossing it on the ground. None of it was intentional, but he was passing so many tests. She couldn’t have a crush on a guy who littered. Or who wasn’t kind and gentle with the dogs. And even though he was cautious about naming them, he was a genuine dog whisperer.
“Want to sit a few minutes?” she asked. “Some part of you has to be tired.”
One side of his perfect lips turned up in a half smile. “Now that you say it, the rocking chairs on the front porch have been calling my name.”
“Awesome. I’ve always wanted to sit in them, but I’ve never taken the time.” Kelsey walked with him around the house and up the wide brick stairs. “Have you heard of Gus’ Pretzels? Depending on how you get off the highway, you probably passed it as you came here. I’d guess you could say they’re a bit of a St. Louis landmark.”
“Like the pizza joints that use a cracker for the crust?” Kurt teased, pulling one of the long pretzel sticks from the bag and then collapsing onto one of the old wooden rockers.
Kelsey took a seat in the adjacent one, wondering how many times Sabrina and Ida had sat here together.
“They’re good.”
“And addictive,” she added. “Which was fine when I was swinging by here to feed Mr. Longtail. It was on my way home, and the place was closed. But now it’s right up the street and so available.”
“You say it like that’s a bad thing.”
“It is if you’re watching carbs.”
“I don’t know why you’d be doing that.” His gaze dropped to her body for only a second or two, followed by one or two seconds when she wanted to disappear. They had to be just empty words. He was too physically perfect not to want someone who could double as a Victoria’s Secret model. Right?
Thankfully, Mr. Longtail jumped up onto the side of the porch and meowed his loud, pervasive meow, drawing Kurt’s attention. The cat stalked over to him and rubbed against one calf.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you switched him with a double. Eight months of trying, and he wanted none of my attention. You’re here a few days, and he’s following you around like a lost puppy.”
Kurt brushed a few pieces of pretzel salt off his thigh, then swooped the cat onto his lap. “I opened an old can of sardines for him last night. He was definitely a fan.”
“Did he sleep with you again?”
“Either that, or someone was trying to suffocate me with a fur pillow around two or three in the morning.”
Kelsey giggled. “Some things you have to see to believe.” The Maine coon was a giant cat and took up all of Kurt’s lap, but that didn’t stop him from getting comfortable. He plopped down and started kneading Kurt’s knees. Kelsey could hear the cat’s sharp claws getting stuck in Kurt’s cargo pants. She pulled out her phone. “Do you care if I take a picture? Megan will never believe me.”
“Knock yourself out.” A second later, he winced as Mr. Longtail’s sharp claws dug into his skin. Kurt extracted the claws carefully from his pants, then began to pump one foot softly, causing his leg to jiggle and Mr. Longtail’s head to bobble like her Chihuahua bobblehead. The movement stopped the cat from kneading but didn’t seem to disturb him otherwise. He curled into a ball, exposing part of his stomach, and began to purr. Kelsey snapped a picture as Kurt’s free hand disappeared into the cat’s mass of thick, gray belly fur.
She inspected her work, promising herself that even though Kurt looked incredibly sexy with his broad shoulders, strong jawline, and shadow of stubble, she wouldn’t pull out her phone later just to stare at the picture.
“Sorry about earlier,” he said after swallowing a bite of pretzel. “My mother’s a bit much, if you didn’t notice.”
“For a second there, I thought you were talking about not naming the dogs.”
“I’m a pretty good judge of when a battle has been lost.”
“So you’re consenting? You’re okay with me naming them?”
“I’m consenting. Let’s leave it at that. And I named one while you were gone. I’ll leave the rest up to you.”
“Who?”
“I’ll let you figure that out later. I wrote it on his crate.”
Kelsey cocked an eyebrow. “I know what I’m doing as soon as I finish this pretzel.”
He smiled and ate a bite of pretzel.
“Your mom was nice. Does she live in Fort Leonard Wood too? I know you said your grandfather teaches there.”
“She’s not too far outside the post. She lives in a trailer park a few miles away actually.” Kurt swigged his root beer, then added, “She left my grandparents’ house when she turned eighteen. I was a little over a year old. To hear her talk, you wouldn’t know it, but my grandparents were the ones to raise me. Back then, she pretty much came and went as she pleased. At least that’s how I remember it.”
Kelsey wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t say it like he wanted sympathy, but she’d put the pieces together about the cell phone having been his grandmother’s. If his grandmother had been more involved in raising him than his own mom, her passing had to be especially hard. “I’m really sorry about your grandmother.”
“Me too,” he said, looking at the house across the road. Two carpenters were there today, and somewhere inside the house, a table saw kept going off. “Nobody was expecting it. She was in her late sixties but healthy as can be. She was in the grocery store when it happened. She fell and hit her head, but it was a stroke that caused it.”
If they were closer, Kelsey would’ve put her hand on his shoulder. Instead, she busied herself by breaking off a piece of her pretzel stick.
“She was an amazing woman,” Kurt continued, keeping his focus on the house across the street. “Small in size, lots smaller than my mom even, but she was big in spirit. She was born
in Mexico and came from money—loads of it, to hear her tell it. Her father was very proud and traditional and wanted to keep all the money and property in his family line. When she was eighteen, she found out he wanted to marry her off to her third cousin. While the relationship was distant enough not to have any genetic risk associated with it, they’d been raised in the same extended family and she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.
“She and her father were having big rows about it, so he sent her on vacation with her mother and aunt to a beach in Baja, California, in hopes she’d cool down. That was when she met my grandfather. He was a few years older and stationed down in Texas back then. He was on leave and vacationing with his buddies. They eloped after meeting each other three times. She never went home.”
As this last part settled in, Kurt stroked Mr. Longtail, who clearly loved having his belly rubbed. Kelsey could practically feel the cat’s deep, thrumming purr reverberating in her chest.
“Not even for vacation?” she asked. The idea of never seeing her own mom, dad, or brothers again was almost unfathomable.
Kurt raised an eyebrow. “She reached out to them after my mother was born, but her father made it clear she’d been excommunicated. To hear her tell it, my very stubborn and set-in-his-ways grandfather was a pussycat compared to her dad. However, a year or so before I enlisted, she got a letter from her hometown in Mexico. I don’t think she ever opened it. At least if she did, it was something she never shared. She said sometimes too much water can pass under a bridge.”
“Wow. I can’t imagine having my family turning against me because of who I wanted to marry, but I don’t have that kind of heritage either. At least she handled it okay. She sounds like an amazing person.”
“She was the best.” Kurt rolled the side of his empty bottle along the edge of his chair. “She really was. She had endless patience with me, and my mother wasn’t kidding about the ADHD. My grandmother was a saint to put up with all she did. I started a garage fire when I was ten that forced us to stay in a hotel for a month and could’ve been much worse. Then, when I was twelve, I got caught trying to drive my grandfather’s old truck off post property. If it had just been up to my grandfather, I’d have gotten spanked more times than I could count.”
Kelsey grimaced. “I hope that’s a figure of speech.”
Kurt gave her one of the half smiles she was starting to love. “Let’s go with that. Then I became a teenager, and the trouble really started. If it hadn’t been for my grandmother and for the chances I had to work with Rob and his dogs, I’d probably have ended up in juvie.”
“You don’t seem anything like that now.” She held out the bag, offering him another pretzel. The tips of their fingers touched as he took one, giving Kelsey an electric jolt. Yep, she was definitely crushing hard. Learning more about him wasn’t helping extinguish those flames either.
Over to the west, it was starting to cloud up and turn gray. The rest of the sky was still blue and sunny. She wondered how many hours they had before the storm hit and what kind of anxiety it might stir up in the dogs. She was opening her mouth to ask if they should start the evening feeding rounds early when she spotted his grandfather’s truck coming down the street. This time, there was only one person in the cab.
“Looks like it’s only your grandfather this time,” Kelsey said, nodding toward the street.
The slightest hint of a frown appeared on Kurt’s face. He set his bottle on the porch floor and lifted a perturbed Mr. Longtail off his lap. The cat meowed and twitched his tail at having been disturbed, then strode to the center of the top step and started licking his long fur.
“As long as you’re good with it, while you guys talk, I can switch out the dogs in the runs—after I discover who’s newly named.” Offering him a smile, Kelsey made a show of crossing a finger over her heart. “And I promise to handle only the green betas whose names I know you’re going to love using very soon.”
He chuckled and brushed off his pants. “Sounds good. Yell if you need me.”
After waving to Kurt’s grandfather as he pulled into the circular drive, Kelsey headed inside. She couldn’t be sure, but this morning she’d gotten a strong sense that Kurt’s grandfather was holding something back.
Chapter 13
Kelsey was out back watching Lucky and Pepper enjoy some time in separate runs when Patrick stepped out of the house onto the back porch.
“Hey, when did you get here?” she called as she headed over.
Patrick glanced at his watch. “Three minutes ago. Kurt said that if you’re able to help, I can go ahead and get the big shepherd mix out of his kennel. Kurt will join us when he’s finished. He’s on the front porch talking to an older man with a similar face shape. I think they’re related.”
Kelsey swallowed a giggle. “That’s his grandfather, but sure, I can help. These two guys are fine out here for a bit. What are you going to do with the shepherd mix today?”
She’d been only slightly surprised to find that Kurt had named the big shepherd Devil. The dog knew all the basics like sit and stay, and he seemed to respect people, even if he held no obvious regard for them. On the other hand, he’d already eaten through one kennel and had destroyed every chew toy he’d been given, even the most indestructible ones. And whether he was in his crate or out, he passed most of the day anxious and unsettled. He had zero tolerance for other dogs. All of that paled in comparison to how difficult it was to keep him on track during training sessions. When he was out of his crate, he always seemed to be searching for something that was just out of sight. Treats and affection were wasted on him. His only interests during his training sessions were in scent marking, snarling in the direction of other dogs, and searching the road for signs of who knew what.
“He doesn’t want to be here,” Patrick said as they headed inside. “Maybe none of them do, but none of them seem to feel as displaced as he does.”
“The poor guy has probably had it really rough.”
“Maybe.” But the way Patrick said the word, it seemed to imply maybe not more than maybe. “Appropriate name,” he added when he spied Kurt’s addition to the tape on Devil’s kennel designating him as red alpha seven.
Although the giant had given no indication that he would ever snap at a human, he was the only dog here being treated as a high-risk possibility. This meant rather than simply hooking a clip leash to his collar after his kennel door was opened, Kurt or Patrick needed to get the generally uncooperative dog to step into a slip—or noose—leash first. Once it was on and the dog proved to be calm, a regular clip leash was hooked to his collar and the self-tightening slip leash was removed.
From there, it was pretty much business as usual. Except that Devil had no interest in receiving their praise or in any of the reward toys the dogs were offered when they were well behaved, and only a mild interest in even the best of treats.
“What’s on the agenda for him today?” Kelsey asked a second time.
“Music.”
Kelsey pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. She’d hoped for a better explanation but suspected she wouldn’t get it.
Rather than allowing Devil to drag him toward the front door, Patrick coaxed him out the back and down the rear porch steps to the grass farthest from the newly installed runs. Across the yard, Lucky barked several times, causing the long, fuzzy hair on Devil’s back and neck to spike high as he sniffed the air. He urinated a long, unending stream on the closest tree while staring the dogs down. Afterward, the massive dog seemed to dismiss both Lucky and Pepper as he turned his attention to the side of the house that had a rickety gate in the privacy fence.
Patrick asked him to sit, though he had to step between Devil and the gate to get his attention. On his third repeated command, Devil tucked in his massive haunches and sank into a sitting position, eyeing Patrick for a split second before stretching his head at an awkward angle to refocu
s on the gate.
“He has a very determined focus.”
Kelsey was considering whether she should comment on Patrick and Devil’s shared similarity when Patrick took out his phone, pulled up a playlist, and handed the phone to her. Kelsey frowned as Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline” burst from the speakers.
Sometimes back at the shelter, they played music for the dogs, but making music a part of one of these training sessions seemed too peculiar even for Patrick.
“I believe twenty seconds should be enough to get a reaction, assuming we’re going to get one, so I made a playlist with twenty-second recordings of a variety of songs. We’ll see if he reacts to any, or if he treats them all like white noise.”
After the “Sweet Caroline” snippet ended, a song Kelsey didn’t know but that would qualify as hard rock played, then a popular country song, then a piece of classical music, followed by a song by Kygo.
In Kelsey’s opinion, Devil seemed to ignore each of them equally. His interest was in the gate, though he was distracted for a few seconds by a small flock of birds taking off from a nearby tree. He paid little attention to Patrick or Kelsey, sinking back into a seated position only on repeated requests from Patrick, who rewarded him with a few nibbles of a savory treat.
It was on the tip of Kelsey’s tongue to ask what Patrick was hoping to get out of the song playing when a bluegrass song came on, and Devil looked pointedly at Patrick’s phone, his ears pricked forward.
“Bluegrass,” Patrick said aloud, shifting Devil’s leash to one hand and reaching for his phone. When it was over, he typed in “most popular bluegrass songs.”
When he began “Come All You Fair and Tender Ladies,” Devil cocked his head at the first plucks of the banjo. After a few seconds, he whined, then his gaze flicked from the phone to the gate and back again.
“It could be that his only interest in it is that it’s unusual,” Patrick said, letting the song play for a full minute before passing the phone back to her and letting it play out.
