The next day, Rebel silently chanted the words payday, payday, payday over and over in her head as she started to set up for the boot camp. Elliott climbed into the last of the Remington’s fleet of Jeeps and backed it out of the motor-pool garage, which was the designated space for the veterans and the service dogs.
Rebel tried to focus on the stacks of wire crates and boxed supplies that filled an entire garage bay. Down Home Dog Food hadn’t skimped. For someone in her profession, opening that many boxes of canine goodies should’ve felt like Christmas. Instead, it felt like a bad dream thanks to the sour attitude of her helper.
She pushed a wire crate against the wall and went back for another.
She’d assumed her reception wouldn’t be warm and fuzzy. Glacier cold would be a better description. How on earth was she going to make this work?
Better yet, what had she been thinking, coming back to Angel Fire Falls? Had she really been naive enough to think they could coexist on the same island? Had she really been stupid enough to think it wouldn’t cut her to the bone to see him again, the kindness and love that used to be in his eyes when he looked at her turned to chips of ice?
Maybe she should give him an opportunity to vent. Tell him it was okay to get things out once and for all. Because she’d been back only one day, and she was already tiptoeing so much she might as well invest in a pair of ballerina slippers.
Elliott walked in and stood in one of the empty bays. “You’re putting the dogs in cages?”
The sound of his voice slid through her like hot coffee on a cold afternoon. Not smooth, but bold and exhilarating in an edgy way that got her juices flowing.
Payday, payday, payday.
That commercial property was as good as hers. She’d finally have a bigger purpose in life. All she had to do was keep it together and not get too personal with the glowering hottie who was going to be her coworker for the next few weeks.
“They’re crates, not cages.” She kept her tone impersonal. Braced both hands against the crate and pushed it toward the wall, spacing it several feet from the other.
Rem matched her steps.
“Isn’t that cruel and inhumane?” Elliott asked.
“Not unless the animals are neglected. Crate training solves half a dog’s behavior issues and housebreaking problems.” There. Keeping it impersonal could work.
The bottom of the crate caught on a lump in the concrete floor, and she stumbled. “Ooomph.”
Elliott was at her side with near supernatural speed. One strong arm circled her waist, his other hand circled her arm, and he caught her before she tumbled face-first over the crate.
When she regained her footing, she looked up at him.
For a second, she couldn’t breathe.
Those soulful green eyes stared down at her, filled with concern like they had been years ago when she’d spent an hour crying in the girls’ bathroom at school because of her mom. Or when he’d shown up at her house the night before a big calculus test to make sure she studied. Or when he’d broken the news to her that he was going away to college, knowing she wouldn’t have the same opportunity.
“You okay?” The cold edge in his voice was softer. Kinder. Less guarded.
She nodded, letting a sharp breath whisper through her lips as she forced air into her aching lungs. “Thank you.”
He let go, his warmth draining away. “Be careful. The event can’t afford to lose another trainer.” The flatness of his tone was back. “I’ll do the heavy lifting.” He turned his back to her and picked up the crate, carrying it to the wall. “Where do you want it?”
Dangerous question with his perfectly worn jeans cupping and hugging in all the right places.
Her mouth turned to cotton. “Line them up around the perimeter.” The scratch in her voice wasn’t obvious. Not in the least.
He placed the crate against the wall and picked up another.
She followed him with a stack of waterproof foam pads, placing one in the bottom of each crate.
They worked fast and efficiently, the strained silence speaking louder than if they were communicating with a bullhorn.
When they were done, there was nothing left to not talk about.
He shoved both hands into his pockets. “What next?” Rem settled against Elliott. When he took a step to one side, Rem followed. Elliott’s wrinkled forehead said he didn’t know what to make of it.
“Come here, Buddy.” She gave the dog a signal meant to draw him to her side.
Rem’s tongue lolled out one side of his mouth, and he leaned harder into Elliott’s leg.
Rebel studied them. This could be a problem. Rem’s behavior was already regressing since she’d arrived at the resort. What kind of impression would that make on the veterans? She needed them to trust her instructions if they were going to make quick progress once they were matched with a service dog.
She drew in a long, slow breath and pointed to a large wooden pallet that had gigantic bags of Down Home Dog Food shrink-wrapped to it. “Put a bag at each station. We’ll feed the dogs inside their crates to eliminate aggressive or territorial behavior at mealtimes.”
He looked surprised. “I wouldn’t have thought of that, but it makes sense,” he grumbled as though it pained him to pay her a quasi-compliment. He retrieved a box cutter from a tool chest in the corner, went to the pallet of dog food, and started slicing through the plastic wrap.
“Most dog training is common sense. Patience is the key.” Rebel rearranged several boxes that were sitting next to the stacks of dog food. Each box was marked with the company name and slogan: DOWN HOME DOG FOOD—THEY’RE NOT JUST PETS. THEY’RE FAMILY. “I’ll unpack the boxes and see what we have to work with. I have no idea what supplies the previous trainer requested, but if we can set up each station so the vets have everything at their fingertips, it’ll reduce their stress levels.”
She tried to rip open a box, but she was no match for the amount of packing tape used to secure each one. “Wow.” She straightened, a hand on her hip. “That could hold the Golden Gate Bridge together.”
With the same scowl he’d been sporting since they first saw each other on the front lawn, he waved the cutting tool at the boxes to shoo her away without a word.
She stepped to the side. As he bent over a box and ran the sharp edge of the tool along a strip of tape, Rem bumped Elliott’s leg. The box cutter slipped and nicked the tip of his thumb.
“Damn it.” He dropped the tool and stared at the red stream oozing down his hand.
“I’m so sorry!” She took the handle on Rem’s vest and led him back a few steps. “He’s still in training.” And probably would be forever.
When she reached for Elliott’s hand, his scowl deepened, and he recoiled.
She hissed in a breath and stepped back too, his reaction like a slap in the face.
Pay. Day.
She let her eyes slide shut for the briefest of moments to block out Elliott’s magnificently square jaw. His ridiculously handsome face. His look of disgust because she’d tried to take his hand.
Big payday. Huge, even.
“You need to put pressure on it.” She pointed to the area above the knuckle of his bleeding thumb. “Squeeze there to slow the blood flow.”
It was hard to unlock her gaze from the light stubble across his strong jaw that was just enough to look ruggedly sexy. Slowly, he put pressure on his thumb right where she’d instructed.
“Where’s the first aid kit?” Her gaze swept the room. “I know there’s one here. Your dad always made safety a priority.”
The air grew thick at her mention of the past.
Rem whined, looking from her to Elliott.
He notched his chin toward the tool chest. “Bottom drawer.”
She found the kit and waved him onto a stack of dog food. “Sit.”
“I’m not a dog.” He reached for the white box with the red cross on top. “I can take care of it myself.”
She moved it out of reach. “I
know you can.” She’d had to take care of herself since she was old enough to remember. Elliott had possessed the same independence and maturity that only came from having to grow up way too young. “That’s one of the things I always admired about you.”
They both froze.
The dog whined, straining toward Rebel, then Elliott, then back to her.
“Um.” She grasped for a way to end the uneasiness. “It’ll go quicker if I do it.” Unable to hold his gaze, she opened the kit and rifled through it. “Sit down. Please.”
He slid onto the stacked dog food. “Fine.” He held out his hand, a drop of blood splattering the cement floor. “Then we can get back to work. We’ve got a lot to do before the campers arrive, and I’ve got a ton of work waiting on my desk.”
Right! Work. This was about work.
His hand was rough against hers as she disinfected the cut. The heat of his skin sent a tingle skating up her arm. A tingle she remembered well. A tingle only Elliott had ever been able to create.
She dabbed the cut once more to distract her wandering thoughts. When she leaned in to apply a bandage, his warm breath coasted over her cheek, her neck . . .
She swallowed and grabbed a tube of ointment from the kit. With the tip of one finger, she gently smoothed the salve over his thumb.
She could swear his breathing grew heavier.
Her gaze snapped to his, and he ground his teeth so loud she was surprised he didn’t break a tooth.
Rem whimpered, put his front paws on the stack of dog food, and nudged his head under Elliott’s free arm.
Rebel let out a heavy sigh and straightened. She’d wondered how long it would take for shit to get real. Maybe there was a hashtag for that she could use. “Go ahead. Just say it.”
He gave her a look that said he had no idea what she was talking about. “Say what?”
She crossed her arms. “Whatever’s on your mind. Whatever makes you feel better, because there isn’t just an elephant in the room. There’s an entire herd of elephants, and judging from the sound of your grinding teeth, they’re about to stampede.” She cocked a hip and waited. Waited for the very thing she’d tried to avoid years ago. His disapproval. His disappointment.
Regret washed through her. Breaking up with him through a note had been cruel. But at the time, it was her only option. If she’d told him the truth about her circumstances, if she’d told him about the horrible secret she was keeping for her dying mother, she was pretty sure he would’ve given up his scholarship and come home to go to community college on the mainland just to be her support system.
That would’ve been the only thing worse than him hating her for leaving him without an explanation.
So it was time to face what she’d done, even if it meant hearing harsh words from the only man she’d ever loved.
Instead, he stewed in silence. She wasn’t sure which was more awful.
His jaw hardened, and his eyes turned icy.
Yeah, the silence was much more awful.
“Go on.” She couldn’t stop her foot from tapping nervously against the cement. “I’m a big girl. I can take it. I’ve been through much worse than a few scathing words from an ex-boyfriend.”
Rem moved to her side.
Elliott studied her, finally drawing in a deep breath. “It’s ancient history. Forget about it. I know I have.”
Oh.
Her foot tapping stopped.
“Let’s focus on the camp,” he said. “That’s all I care about. Then you and I can go back to our lives.”
She swallowed down the sting in her throat.
She thought he’d ask why, want answers, or just plain tell her off.
She’d been terribly wrong.
More than answers, more than having his say, what he obviously needed was for them to go their separate ways. Again.
Something sharp pricked at her heart. Breaking up had been the last thing she’d wanted, but what would a homeless teenager with no prospects have to offer a Wharton grad who was going to have a world of opportunities at his feet? Especially if the truth about what her mother had done ever came to light. So she’d broken up with him and told him to move on without her.
She just hadn’t realized how much it would hurt if she got what she’d asked for, even after all these years.
Since Elliott hadn’t been able to get Lily alone long enough to tell her to find a replacement, he’d sent her a text first thing that morning. Her immediate response was, We’ll talk later.
Damn straight they would.
He ignored his throbbing thumb as he opened the boxes so Rebel could examine the arsenal of supplies. After slicing through tape on box number two thousand and one, he straightened. “How much stuff does a dog need?” It was the first time either had spoken a word since he’d brushed off her offer to vent.
What could he have said that wouldn’t have sounded like a sulking adolescent still holding a grudge over a wounded ego? Worse, he might’ve sounded like a grown man still smarting over a broken heart.
After she reminded him she’d been through far worse than getting an earful from an ex-boyfriend, no way was he going to vent. The things she’d endured while living on the island had been worse than him getting dumped by a high-school sweetheart. He’d suck it up and stay quiet until he handed the event off to someone else.
Trusting her was another matter entirely, though. She hadn’t shown any remorse for kicking his family to the curb, even though they’d treated her like one of their own. That was something he couldn’t ignore.
Rebel kept working, organizing the supplies at each station. “A lot of this is specific for service dogs.” She held up a blue vest that had IN TRAINING stitched on the side. Then she pulled a tennis ball from another box. “The dogs will have been with training handlers for as long as two years. They’ll already know the basic obedience commands, but we’ll use some of the toys when testing the dogs for their matches.” She tossed that back in the box and retrieved a fuzzy toy squirrel with an elongated body. “Some we’ll use to teach skills specific to their companion’s needs.” She let the squirrel drop into a box and fanned a hand across the array of different boxes. “When it comes to household pets that aren’t used for service, supplies are still big business. Have you ever walked into a pet store? They’re more like department stores, especially the big chains.”
“But they’re dogs.” He stooped over another box and sliced through the tape.
She shrugged and kept working. “They’re family.” She stopped, stared down at the bags of treats in her hands, and chewed the corner of her mouth. “Especially to someone who’s alone.” Her voice was low and wistful like she had firsthand experience.
He wouldn’t ask. He wouldn’t. She’d made her choice a long time ago, and that choice hadn’t included him.
Anger flashed through him.
If she wanted him to know the details of her life after leaving the island . . . after leaving him, she’d have to spill them on her own.
He folded both sides of the box top back, and an assortment of colorful toys greeted him. He pulled a small chimpanzee out that had CHUNKY MONKEY embroidered across its chest and a pink flamingo whose wings crinkled. He squeezed the monkey, and it let out a squeak that sounded like it had just broken wind.
“Holy shit.” Elliott’s head snapped back. Then he took in the ocean of boxes. “I didn’t have this many toys as a kid.”
“Neither did I.” She dug more supplies out of a box and stopped at the first station. “Mom got most of my toys from Goodwill and the Salvation Army.” A sad smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “Or from dumpster diving.”
Her mom. It was the first time Rebel had mentioned her troubled mother, and Elliott had been too caught up in feeling sorry for himself to ask.
“How is your mom?”
She didn’t answer for a second, moving to each station without looking up. Finally, she said, “She passed a long time ago.”
Well, didn’t he fe
el like an ass. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Her tone went cold, and she focused on her work, making it clear the subject was closed.
They worked for several hours until half the supplies were unpacked. Elliott started breaking down the empty boxes while Rebel sorted the contents.
Finally, she put both hands on her lower back and stretched. “I drove in from Portland yesterday, and we’ve been bending and lifting all day. How about we call it a night and start early in the morning?”
“Portland.” He tossed an empty box onto the pile. “Is that where you live?”
So his plan not to ask her about her life was shot to hell.
She fingered the zipper of her jacket. “Yes.” Her voice dropped to just above a whisper.
“How’d you end up there?” He folded another box into a small square and broke down the next.
She turned a foot on its side and stared at her hiking boot. “My mom’s doctors were there. So tomorrow morning, then?” She headed to the open garage door but stopped as soon as she reached it.
He took a few steps over to see what had caught her attention. The sun had slipped behind the mountainous landscape of the western side of the island, turning the sky bold shades of pink and orange.
Rebel’s dog stood close at her side like he often did. “It’s still as beautiful as I remember.”
Yes, she was.
His lungs locked.
Wait. No. It was still beautiful, as in the sunsets that drew tourists to the island. Not she. Okay, she was still beautiful too, but . . . Fuck.
The cardboard box he was folding closed on his thumb. He let out a string of cuss words under his breath.
Rebel’s dog trotted over and stood flush against Elliott’s side, and she followed.
“How’s the thumb?” She reached for his hand.
He pulled away, cradling it in his other hand.
She looked him in the eye, but her chin trembled so slightly that he would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been looking. Taking in every detail of her pretty face, from the light dusting of freckles that sprinkled her nose to the small dimple in the middle of her chin that had always quivered when she was nervous. Or upset.
Dare Me Again (Angel Fire Falls Book 2) Page 4
