She held her breath as Trace climbed out of the cockpit, ready for her first face-to-face with another Remington.
“Rebel.” He gave her a single nod that wasn’t accompanied by a smile.
“Hi, Trace,” she said. “Thanks for picking up the dogs and their handlers.”
His forehead wrinkled. “I don’t know anything about handlers, but that was one noisy ride. Not to mention dangerous.”
“The training handlers didn’t introduce themselves?” she asked just as an earsplitting howl came from inside the plane. Several other dogs joined in.
Trace and Elliott hurried to the cargo door in the center of the plane, working as a team to open it.
“They’ve likely never ridden in a plane, so it upset them.” Rebel stepped forward as Trace unlatched the door. “Once we get them out of their crates and walk them around, they’ll settle.”
“Yeah, about the crates. Whoever built them needs their asses kicked.” Trace pulled open the door.
A dozen overly excited Labradors of varying colors dashed down the ramp.
Rebel’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me?” They were allowed to run loose in the cargo hold?
“Whoaaaa,” Jax said.
At the same time, Elliott said, “Holy shit.”
Half the dogs galloped to the giant pampas grass that divided the dock from the resort grounds and proceeded to relieve themselves. The other half rushed Elliott, obviously sensing his tension. They surrounded him like a pack.
His eyes flew wide.
Rebel would’ve laughed if the situation wasn’t already so far out of control. She stepped toward the plane, straining to see inside. “Where are the handlers?” And why did the handlers leave the dogs unrestrained and howling like a pack of wolves?
“I don’t know what handlers are,” Trace said.
“The dogs’ trainers.” She couldn’t hide the desperation in her voice as she hurried up the ramp to look inside the plane. Besides the crates, the cargo hold was empty.
“I thought you were the trainer,” Trace said.
“Call them off,” Elliott said from the center of his furry horde. One stuck its nose in his crotch while the other goosed him from behind. He put a protective hand over each side of his privates. “I’m no longer feeling like this is a safe place.”
Walking—no, stomping down the ramp, she ignored his plea for help until someone gave her answers. “I can’t possibly handle this many dogs on my own. We need the handlers who’ve been training the dogs since they were puppies. Where are they?”
Rem came to stand firmly at her side, and Bogart followed.
“The manifest the sponsor sent Lily said to pick up twelve dogs,” Trace said. “And that’s what I did.”
“Are the handlers coming on a different flight?” Surely he was going back to the Cape to pick them up.
He shook his head, disappearing inside the plane.
Rebel smoothed a palm across her forehead. Obviously, she’d been so dumbfounded by the amount of money Down Home Dog Food had offered that she hadn’t asked enough questions before accepting the job.
Trace carried out a crate in each hand. They weren’t made of wire like the nice crates the sponsor had delivered with the other supplies. They looked homemade from flimsy plywood, which was splintered and broken. “These are garbage. As soon as I took off, the dogs went apeshit. The cages literally collapsed. I was airborne and couldn’t do anything but keep flying.”
“Ahem.” Elliott’s voice couldn’t have gotten more disgusted. “While you two are catching up, I’m being molested by a bunch of dogs.”
She handed Jax half the leashes. “Can you manage that many?”
“Sure can.” Jax had the dogs that were torturing the grass leashed in seconds.
Which seemed to irritate Elliott even more because he actually moved his hands away from his privates to cross an inflated chest.
“Take them to the garage and give them fresh water,” she said to Jax.
He disappeared around the barrier of giant grass, heading up the path.
She pulled a training clicker from her pocket. Present or not, if the handlers knew their stuff, the dogs would respond to the noise. So far, her expectations weren’t running high, though.
Here goes nothing.
She squeezed the clicker. The dogs stayed crowded around Elliott, but they settled and focused on her.
Thank God.
It was a small victory, but she’d take it. She leashed the dogs but didn’t lead them away from Elliott. While she had his attention, she was going to make use of it by laying some ground rules. “You’re representing the resort for this event, Elliott. You didn’t know the handlers wouldn’t be arriving with the dogs?”
“No, I didn’t. I don’t know anything about service dogs or camps or handlers, which is why I wanted to delegate my responsibilities to someone else. But there is no one else.” He glowered in the direction Jax had just gone. “At least no one I trust.”
Rebel dug deep for patience.
Trace stepped out of the plane with more crates and walked them to the dock.
When a particularly friendly black Lab jabbed his nose into Elliott’s crotch again, he went back to guarding his privates.
Trace stopped next to his brother. “Maybe you should go take a shower.”
Elliott moved the hand from his backside long enough to scratch his nose with a middle finger.
She waved both arms in the air. “I assumed the sponsor would send someone who knew what they were doing.” Apparently, that was too much to ask. Down Home Dog Food didn’t appear to know any more about running an efficient camp than the Remington Resort.
“We need better communication. If you’re staying on as the resort’s rep, then take the reins. You and I should speak with the sponsor—no one else.”
“You’re right.” The tension in Elliott’s voice escalated. “But give me a break here. It’s taken me longer to wrap my head around this event because I’m not a dog person, and—”
The dogs crowded in on him again.
His arms flailed for balance.
She didn’t try to hide a cocky serves you right smile as she let the dogs have their way with him.
His raised arms stilled against his privates again. “You’re really going to let them rob me of my innocence?”
“You and I both know you’re not at all innocent,” she blurted before she could stop herself.
They both stilled. Both stayed quiet. Like they were both thinking of the not-so-innocent times they’d spent together so many years ago.
Involuntarily, the tip of her tongue darted out to trace her lips.
A muscle in Elliott’s jaw tensed.
Which got the dogs excited all over again.
She pressed the clicker, and they focused on her. “They sense your uneasiness.”
Trace emerged with more crates. “That’s all of them. I’m heading back to the mainland to pick up a load of cargo.” He tossed them onto the pile with the rest of the tattered crates and climbed into the cockpit.
“We need to move the dogs away from the plane, since the engine obviously upsets them.” She handed Elliott a couple of leashes. “Can you walk two of them if I take the rest?”
“Of course.” He grabbed the leashes, but his expression wasn’t nearly as confident as his words.
She led her dogs up the path. When they got to the playground, she stopped for a brief training session. “Hold your hand palm down over their heads so they know you’re the dominant figure.”
Elliott’s movement was far too fast, and a yellow female Lab squatted on his shoe to relieve herself.
Rebel clamped a hand over her mouth to cover a belly laugh. “I’m sorry.” She chuckled against her cupped hand. “When a dog piddles, it’s a sign of submission, which is a good thing in a service dog.”
His scowl said he didn’t believe a word of it. “Piddles?”
“Yes, piddles.”
His scowl d
eepened.
“When they’re scared or excited, they lose control of their bladder.”
“I am not saying that word out loud,” Elliott huffed. “Ever again.”
She fought off another smile at the alpha hot guy with the high-dollar education who was so bothered over a simple word. “How about twizzles?”
“I quit,” he deadpanned.
This time she tilted her head back and laughed.
Which seemed to lighten his mood and ease his scowl.
And for a second, everything else melted away, and it was just her and him. Staring deep into each other’s eyes. Each other’s souls.
The plane’s engine whirred to life in the distance.
Elliott’s lips parted like he was going to speak. Maybe say something sweet. Or something sensual. Like he used to.
Instead he said, “This is going to be a train wreck.”
Her lungs deflated, her heartbeat a dull thud against her rib cage.
Train wreck? Probably. On so many levels.
Chapter Eight
#SNOWBALLSCHANCEINHELL
Rebel stood under a copse of red-and-orange-tinged trees by the garage and worked with one dog at a time, testing for personality traits, strengths, and weaknesses. Since she was the sole trainer, she’d been able to assess only half the dogs since they’d arrived the day before.
It would be an understatement to say her frustration level had run high when the handlers didn’t arrive with the dogs. Rem and Bogart hadn’t left her side since.
Rebel threw a ball to analyze the energy level of a chocolate Lab named Elsie. The dog took off after it.
What kind of company sponsored a boot camp and delivered the dogs unattended with one trainer to manage them all? The term boot camp made it obvious the event would be immersive, intensive, and condensed. Seemed common sense that those conditions would require the dogs to be accompanied by their handlers. At the very least, the sponsor should’ve hired more than just Rebel as a trainer.
Wrong. She shook her head and leashed the Lab as it dropped the ball at her feet.
At the very least, the sponsor could answer Elliott’s calls, which Rebel had insisted he march to his office and make right after he’d admitted the camp was going to be a train wreck. He’d been trying to call the sponsor ever since.
She would not join in with his glass-half-empty attitude. She would not admit defeat so easily. Which meant she would not mention that she’d slept in the garage last night to calm the howling dogs.
He wouldn’t understand that it had been the only way to keep them quiet after they’d been separated from their handlers, then gotten so worked up on the plane ride. He wouldn’t understand that this was her job, and no way would she ask him or Jax to do anything she wasn’t willing to do herself.
He wouldn’t understand that sleeping in a garage was much better than some of the places she’d had to sleep right after she’d left the island.
She handed the leash to Jax. “Crate Elsie and bring out the next.” Rebel rubbed the kink in her neck from sleeping on a makeshift bed in the garage. Then she picked up her pad and jotted down notes under Elsie’s name.
“’Kay.” Jax did exactly what Rebel asked. No hesitation. No questions.
No chemistry pulling her thoughts away from her task. Her goal. Her future.
“Still no luck getting the sponsor on the line.” Elliott strolled up behind her.
Her skin prickled. Dammit. Less than a week back on the island and just the sound of his voice made her want to drop to the ground, roll onto her back, and ask him to pet her tummy. Among other things.
She pressed down so hard on her mechanical pencil that the lead snapped.
She didn’t turn around to look at him. “Keep trying. We need to find out what happened to the handlers and see if Down Home Dog Food will fly them here to help.” She clicked the top of the pencil and finished her notes on Elsie. “Amazing that a company would invest so much in an event, then drop the ball with communication. Not telling us the handlers weren’t coming is kind of a big deal.”
“I’ve left several messages, a few of which informed them to communicate with no one but me or you,” he said. “Hopefully, nothing else will slip past us.”
A wonderfully familiar aroma teased her senses. She spun around before she could stop herself. “Is that Charley’s coffee?”
He boosted the drink carrier in his hand that held three piping-hot cups of coffee. “Doughnuts too. I figured we could use an afternoon snack.” He walked over to a stump and set everything down.
Jax led a strapping yellow Lab out of the garage. He handed the leash to Rebel and bent to look at the tag dangling from the collar. “This one’s Oscar. Yo, dude.” Jax greeted Elliott like he should be catching a wave on the beaches of Malibu. “Thanks.” He headed straight to the tree stump, didn’t touch any of the cups in the carrier, and grabbed two of the three doughnuts instead. He took a big bite and nodded to Elliott.
Rem and Bogart trotted to Elliott and brushed against his leg.
“One of those was mine, but sure,” he deadpanned. “Help yourself.”
“Awesome.” Jax took another gigantic bite.
Elliott responded with a you’ve got to be kidding me look.
Rebel tossed her notepad and pencil to the side, pulled the clicker from her pocket, and pressed it. It chirped, and his gaze snapped to hers.
She challenged him with a smarty-pants smile and nodded at the dog on the end of the leash. “Now that I’ve got your attention, can we focus on Oscar?”
“Very funny.” Elliott stalked to the stump and pulled two cups from the tray. He brought one to Rebel.
“Thank you.” She took a long drink, and then she lowered her voice so Jax couldn’t overhear. “But a cup of coffee won’t get you off the hook for wanting to start a pissing contest every time you’re around him. We need his help.” She cut her eyes at Jax, who was preoccupied with his doughnuts and a very large dragonfly that hovered a few feet away.
Oh boy.
Elliott leaned in. “I doubt we need to whisper.” He lowered his voice to mimic her. “He won’t know you’re talking about him unless you call him by name.”
“Now you’re just being mean,” she scolded. “He’s good with the dogs, and we’re shorthanded, in case you forgot.”
“I never forget.” He took a sip, staring at her over the rim of his cup. “Ever.” His piercing gaze said he wasn’t just talking about not having enough help with the camp. He shoved his free hand in his pocket and rocked back on his heels. “Work your magic, Dog Whisperer.” He hitched his chin at Oscar.
“Uh-uh.” She held out the leash. “You’re going to work the magic.”
His eyes flew wide. “I’ll deal with the sponsor, but you’ve got to manage the dogs.” Then he glanced at Jax. “Have him do it. Didn’t you just say he’s here to help?”
“Hey, Jax?” She didn’t look away from Elliott. “Can you rotate the dogs out of their crates for fresh water and a bathroom break?”
“Gotcha.” He stuffed the rest of the doughnuts into his mouth, brushed his hands off, and walked into the garage.
“He’s busy.” She tilted her head to one side and gave Elliott a challenging look. “I dare you to work with Oscar. You like dares, right?”
Without breaking eye contact, Elliott slowly took the leash from her fingers and replaced it with his cup of coffee so that both her hands were full. Still staring into her eyes, he stepped close, reached for her waist . . .
Her lips parted, and she let out a tiny gasp as his soapy scent mingled with the blessed coffee and made her light-headed.
“Challenge accepted.” The zipper of her fanny pack whizzed as he opened it and plunged his hand inside. He leaned in, his mouth so close to hers she could almost taste him. “You don’t mind me getting a treat, do you?” The fanny pack adjusted to the weight of his searching hand and slid low on her belly.
Ladyland didn’t just purr. It roared to life
like a mountain lion in heat. Desire scorched through Rebel’s veins, setting her limbs on fire.
Her throat closed. “Not at all.” Her voice turned to gravel, but she wouldn’t give in to his taunt. He had no idea who he was dealing with. As a single young woman alone in the world, she’d fended off more than a few innuendoes. “I don’t give my treats out to just anyone.” To give him a little taste of his own medicinal smart-assery, she put her mouth at his ear and whispered, “But in your case . . .”
When she leaned back to look at him, his green eyes dilated like he was remembering, and his hand stilled inside the fanny pack. Stilled against her belly just above her thighs.
Breathe, breathe, BREATHE!
His fiery gaze raked her face, and he leaned in like he was going to devour her lips with his.
Rem whined, and he, Bogart, and Oscar crowded her and Elliott.
She tried to appear calm and confident. “I’ll make an exception, since this might be the only way for you to get any.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Any treats, that is.”
He lowered his voice and said, “Great dog whisperer. Terrible liar.” He dropped his voice a little more and glanced down at the notch where her neck met her shoulder. “That fearless expression you’re wearing doesn’t quite add up with the pulse that’s pounding away at your neck.”
Her lips parted to tell him he was full of it, but she couldn’t form words as his tempting mouth hovered a breath from hers.
Abruptly, he stepped away.
Ladyland growled and clawed until Rebel had to tighten everything from the roots of her red hair to the tips of her curling toes. Swear to God, even her toenails clenched. Clenching was her only option because shouting “Down, girl!” at her crotch probably wouldn’t build confidence in her abilities as a trainer.
He walked Oscar to the center of the grassy area. “So what do I do?”
Besides put his lips on hers, trail kisses along her neck, and use an assortment of body parts and appendages to give Ladyland the real treat she was craving?
Dammit. Rebel needed a mocha java chip fix, and fast. Because her favorite ice cream was the only kind of satisfaction she was going to allow herself while in Angel Fire Falls.
Dare Me Again (Angel Fire Falls Book 2) Page 10
