Sit, Stay, Love

by Debbie Burns

  The big giant was continually finding new ways to challenge them. This morning, Kurt had asked Patrick to take the lead in the dog’s retraining. If Devil was ever going to be adoptable, Kurt had admitted, he was going to need a lot more one-on-one attention that Kurt was going to be able to give him. Although Patrick was hit or miss when it came to understanding the social cues of people, he was a genius at reading animals. Even not knowing him long, Kurt seemed to have picked up on this.

  “Thanks again for your help. I know you’re putting in your regular hours at the shelter too. Kurt’s not much of a talker, but I know he’s impressed with how well you do with Devil.” Kelsey gave Orzo, who looked quite content in Patrick’s arms, a scratch on the forehead.

  “I think that he wants to communicate.”

  “Kurt?”

  “Devil.”

  “How so?”

  “Whenever he lunges at the kennels or snarls at the dogs passing by him, he’s quick to look me or Kurt in the eye. It’s the same way when he looks down the road.”

  “Do you know what he’s trying to tell you?”

  “I will soon. He’s a complicated animal. Not like Orzo, who just wants to sniff and eat and get petted.”

  Kelsey nodded. “I won’t argue with you there. Let me know if I can help. I swear, there’s always so much to do here. I think Kurt feels pulled in every direction.”

  Jim, the volunteer electrician, had been at the house for several hours too, working on the circuit panel. He had left for the evening after relaying that, while the Sabrina Raven estate needed a considerable amount of electrical rewiring, his patchwork would hopefully be a stent to keep the op running smoothly.

  “You’ve made a lot of progress already,” Patrick said.

  Kelsey squeezed his elbow. “You’re the best, Patrick.”

  He made a face like he didn’t know how to respond, then muttered good night. He loaded Orzo into the backseat of the cab and took off after rolling down his window and offering a wave.

  With hardly the energy to move, Kelsey watched him drive off, noticing exhaustion in atypical places like her joints and her belly. Finally, she headed back in. After quietly shutting the front door—the dogs had settled down, and most were dozing—she paused in place, wondering where Kurt had gone.

  Butterflies fluttered in her chest, reviving her better than caffeine. It had been such a busy day that there’d been no time to wonder if the way they’d so easily gotten down to business this morning meant last night would become nothing more than a fantastic memory, or if it might happen again. She’d also not had time to gawk at Kurt’s amazing lips or daydream about running her hand once more over his smooth skin and precision-toned core.

  If she had a hope basket, she’d stick all her eggs in it, hoping she’d be lucky enough to experience him more than once. But starting something up again tonight wouldn’t be the smartest decision. She wasn’t the only one who was wearing out. Kurt was—finally—showing signs of fatigue. He’d yawned several times during the nightly feeding and once while intently focused on a training session with Lucky, the nine-year-old Doberman. For his fatigue to show during training, Kurt had to be tired. Hopefully, the floodlights he’d installed would enable him to relax and fall into a deep sleep tonight.

  Kelsey headed toward the back of the house where she’d last seen him. She found him at the kitchen table. The ceiling light was off, and the last of the fading daylight was coming in through the south window. Mr. Longtail was sitting on the table in front of Kurt, lapping up milk from a half-empty glass. Kurt was bent over, staring down at his lap, ignoring the cat.

  After twisting sideways for a closer look, Kelsey realized he was asleep. His eyes were closed, and his breath was even and slow. Her chest swelled with new emotion. It was the first time she’d seen him look vulnerable. She wanted to pull him against her and run her fingers through his hair. She wanted to tuck him into bed and crawl in beside him and hold him while they drifted off to sleep—even if it meant sleeping in one of those questionable old beds.

  And she never wanted to leave.

  As she had with Steve, Kelsey wondered about the difference between a crush or fling—whatever this might turn out to be—and the real thing. She’d known Steve a year and a half, and her pulse had never quickened around him like she was a driver on an Indianapolis Motor Speedway.

  Her feelings for Steve had been akin to fitting a questionable piece into a complicated puzzle. The piece seemed to fit, the edges locking together almost seamlessly, but sometimes you didn’t know for sure until you assembled more of the puzzle. She’d thought she loved Steve. Before “I just didn’t feel it,” imagining a life with him had seemed so natural. They liked the same movies. They were always laughing at something. They loved animals, had been brought up similarly, and had similar career goals.

  It wasn’t the same with Kurt. Aside from his love of dogs, he was really nothing like her. Kurt was serious and intense and quiet and an ex-soldier, raised on a military post, with no clue who his father was and a unique mother who could’ve stepped straight out of a movie. It would be impossible to connect the dots from Kurt’s dramatic life to her ordinary, suburban, plain-as-toast upbringing, her over-the-top brothers, and her ordinary but loving parents.

  But no matter what their differences were, her feelings for Kurt were clearly “yes, please” and “a bit more, please” and “maybe another spoonful” too.

  With all these thoughts rolling around in her head, Kelsey had no idea what to do next. Maybe it would be best to jot a note, sneak out, and deal with everything tomorrow. Maybe a good night’s sleep would help her see things in a clearer light.

  Wondering where she might find a notepad, she tiptoed to the table and, as soundlessly as possible, extracted the glass from underneath Mr. Longtail’s draping whiskers. A supply of milk that size and adult cats didn’t mix.

  Then, as sudden as last night’s lightning flashes, Kurt was bolting to his feet and slamming her backward against the wall. The back of her head and shoulders smacked against it as his forearm smashed into her collarbone. He pressed against her, larger size and superior strength immediately subduing her. For a split second, Kelsey could swear she grasped how it felt to be a deer facing a set of barreling headlights.

  “Shit!” Letting her go almost as quickly as he’d grabbed her, Kurt stepped back, dragging his hands through his hair. “Kelsey, I’m sorry. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. Did I hurt you?”

  Her head was ringing, her adrenaline was racing, and everything seemed to be stuck in slow motion. Kurt’s voice carried a touch of grogginess and fear that belied the aggression he’d just exhibited.

  He reached across the doorway and flipped on the light. The sky-blue cabinets, matching appliances, and yellow countertops gleamed fluorescent.

  Kelsey shook her head, trying to clear it. “Ow.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry,” he repeated. “It was stupid to doze off like that.” He opened the freezer and pulled out a frozen-solid package of peas. “Let’s get you to the couch and get some ice on that head of yours.”

  Despite the ringing in her ears, Kelsey could hear the drips from the spilt milk hitting the floor. Mr. Longtail was now in the far counter, watching them with a look of immense dissatisfaction. Kurt’s chair was turned over too. She hadn’t heard it fall, but then, she’d been busy being shoved against a wall.

  Reality was sinking in as she gingerly fingered the knot forming at the back of her head. She looked from the rock-hard package of peas to the troubled expression on Kurt’s face.

  There was another difference between them she’d not been thinking about. She hadn’t spent the better part of the last eight years in one war zone or another.

  * * *

  He kept hearing it over and over, the thunk of Kelsey’s head slamming into the wall. He’d hurt her. He hadn’t meant to—hell,
he’d move mountains to keep her safe—but he’d hurt her all the same.

  He’d been sitting at the table, fighting off a wave of exhaustion so deep he’d barely been able to keep his eyes open. Clearly, he dozed off in spite of trying to fight off the urge, because the dream he’d been having while in the light sleep had been too easily confused with reality. If he could separate himself from the awful dreams—dreams of trying helplessly to assist a buddy or one of the dogs in his care who’d been unexpectedly hit by a blast from an IED—if he could stop having these dreams, maybe he’d start believing in miracles.

  But that seemed like an impossibility.

  It was in that uneasy doze that he’d reacted to Kelsey hovering over him before he could process what he was doing. And even in the darkened kitchen, he’d caught that look of fear and pain in her eyes as he’d jolted fully awake and realized what he’d done.

  “Can you stop pacing and come sit by me, please?” Kelsey was curled into the corner of the couch, the bag of peas pressed against her head.

  “You could have a concussion,” Kurt repeated. “I think we should get you to an urgent care center to be sure.”

  “I don’t have a concussion. I have a contusion. Here, feel.” She reached for his hand as he obliged her request and sank beside her on the couch.

  “It feels like a damn egg,” he said. Her touch was more comforting than he expected. And the sensation of his hand in her hair was more than inviting; it was disarming. So was being so close to her remarkable lips again. “I’m sorry.”

  Sorry. What a weak, ridiculous word. Sorry never altered the past, no matter how far away or close by that past was.

  Kelsey shrugged, a smile playing on her face. “You can stop saying you’re sorry. Twenty times was enough. It hardly hurts anymore, and I should have known better than to sneak up on a sleeping ex-marine. But I will let you clean up the mess in the kitchen later. I think it goes back to my childhood and my rowdy brothers, but there’s something about wiping up spilt milk that makes me want to hurl. And if I ever get a whiff of really sour milk, it’s hurl city, just so you know.”

  Somehow, their fingers stayed entwined. Kurt began to stroke her palm with his thumb, and the smile she’d tacked on faltered. What had happened a few minutes ago had shaken her up more than she wanted to let on. That much was obvious.

  All day, he’d been fighting the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her. Now he realized what an idiot he was. How could he think about drawing someone as wonderful as Kelsey into a relationship when he was part Jekyll and part Hyde? What did he think he was going to do…make crazy love to her, then send her packing before he fell asleep, just in case? How could he expect her to be okay with that? And what could happen if she was, and they tried it anyway?

  “I guess now is good a time as any to bring up last night.” Her tone was soft, unaccusing.

  “Because you have a clearer idea of what you’d be getting yourself into?” He dropped her hand and started pacing again.

  “Because I like you,” she said, dropping the package of peas on the side table and tucking her hands under her thighs. “But like most things that are worthwhile, a relationship—if that’s what this could be—seems complicated in the middle of what is probably that most important thing I’ve ever done. It is, you know, this thing we’re doing with the dogs. And I don’t know if what we have is a crush or something that could be real, but I don’t want to mess anything up. On top of all that, not only are you really good looking, but you’re amazing with the dogs, so it’s quite possible I’m not thinking clearly to start with.” She stopped and bit her lip. After a few seconds of silence, she shrugged her shoulders. “I’m ranting, aren’t I? It’s not like me to be this open, so maybe I’m still in a bit of shock, but I want you to know that all this, you included, is important me. When it’s over, I don’t want any regrets.”

  Kurt pressed his eyes closed a second and let out a slow breath. Couldn’t she be coy and skirt the truth and make it easier to shut her out? Hell, he wouldn’t be nearly as attracted to her if she could.

  He sat beside her a second time and pulled her in for a soft kiss before either of them had time to think about it. But the thing about her lips was that a quick taste would never be enough. The kiss deepened and a flame of want ripped through him, sending a surge of fresh energy into his tired limbs. He pulled away long enough to offer a husky “No regrets.” Rather than reconnecting with her lips, he found her neck and lost all thought.

  He was damn close to climbing on top of her when several dogs jumped up in their crates and started to bark simultaneously. Abandoning the couch, Kurt headed for the nearest front window, being sure to keep to the side and out of view. Kelsey followed close behind him. Outside, an owl hooted loudly, and several of the dogs barked again. From where he stood, the yard looked dark and empty.

  “Think it was the owl?” Kelsey asked after the dogs quieted down and nothing else happened.

  “Possibly.”

  After another half minute of silence passed, he headed for the front porch. The late-September night was cool, and an easy breeze flitted over his skin as he crossed over to the top stair. The neighborhood seemed calm and benign. From so far away that it was barely audible, he heard a car alarm going off. Maybe that had been what stirred up the dogs, not the owl. Over at Ida’s, a few lamps lit the lower floor. Across the street in the rehab, one upstairs bedroom light was on. No cars were parked out front, and Kurt wondered if the construction crew had left the light on accidentally.

  “I’m worried that you won’t let yourself get any sleep tonight, and you really need it. Should I stay? We can take turns keeping watch, if that would help.”

  Tugging her by her closest belt loop, Kurt drew her in for another long kiss. “If you stay, neither of us will get any sleep.” His blood pulsed so hot through his veins that it seemed to have an acidic tinge. “And after what happened in the kitchen, I think we both know you joining me in a bed could be a bad idea. For a while, at least.” His words had an unexpected ring of permanency, and he didn’t attempt to pull them back.

  “Then what happens now?”

  “You go home and get some sleep. Tomorrow morning, after we’re finished feeding, we’ll head over to the shelter together. I’d like to have a look at the stock so we can decide who to bring next. I need someone a little more imposing to really test Zeus.”

  Her eyebrows rose at the word stock, and he wasn’t surprised at the exclamation that followed. “You’re still pretty fresh out of a long string of soldiering, so I’ll forgive that impersonal term you used to refer to some of the sweetest dogs in the world, and I’ll agree. But I meant between us.” She pressed her lips together. Her amber eyes were sincere and locked on his.

  He traced his thumb over her lower lip, then down her neck, and finally down the length of her sternum. “I like you, and you like me. And we’re going to take this one day at time. Yesterday, I learned that you have hands down the best lips of anyone I’ve ever met. Tonight, we learned that as much as I’d like to be, I can’t be trusted in my sleep. Not now. Probably not for a while.”

  Kelsey traced the tip of one finger along the line of his jaw, making him hungry for her all over again. “I know you well enough to know you aren’t going to believe me when I tell you that what happened in the kitchen is never going to happen again. Call it intuition if you want, but sometimes I just know these things. And one of these days that we’re about to take one at a time, you’re going to trust me on this.”

  “My grandmother was a strong believer in intuition. My grandfather always scoffed until he was proved wrong, so I’ll refrain from comment.”

  “Good.” She sucked in her cheek a second. “So, uh, I know we just talked about taking it a day at a time, but I was wondering if you’d like to go to Megan’s reception with me. It’s in three weeks. She’s probably my closest friend, and I’d really
like to bring you with me.”

  “I’d be honored,” he said, running his hand down the length of her arm and feeling the goose bumps that rose as a result, “as long as the only dancing we do is in a slow circle. Otherwise, I’d probably do more damage to your feet than I did to the back of your head.”

  She smiled. “I’m good with that. And thanks. You gave me the dress-shopping motivation I needed.” She rose up and brushed her lips against his. “I should go. Promise me you’ll try to get some sleep.”

  He gave her the promise she requested and went back in the house with her while she gathered her stuff. When they were back at her car, he savored another kiss and allowed himself to explore her phenomenal body until she started to moan and he was on the verge of exploding on the spot. Then he pulled away and closed his hands over her shoulders.

  He might not have known her long, but he felt the permanency with which she’d entered his life with the deepest of certainties. He’d thought he was coming home to head west to lose himself in hard labor and wilderness. But here he was, falling in love with a girl and a house and a city and thirty-seven—no, thirty-eight—dogs all at once.

  Rushing the next step would belie that permanency. He made a commitment then and there not to take her into his bed until he was certain he could not only fall asleep beside her, but also tell her this complicated truth without fear.

  “Kels,” he said, using the nickname he’d enjoyed hearing her friends use. “Good night. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”

  A wide smile spread across her face. “Me too. In the meantime, sweet dreams.”

  He gave her a wink as she slipped into the driver’s seat and tugged on her seat belt. “After what I did in the kitchen, you may not believe me, but I’m not lying when I tell you I’ve had some of the sweetest in my life after starting this with you.”

  “After having a few of my own, I’m inclined to believe you.”