by Tia Lewis
God damn. Why did the man have to be so sexy? My eyes traveled his well-formed biceps that strained the sleeves of his plaid shirt. For the first time in a long time, I was well and truly attracted to a man other than Randy Barker.
I swallowed hard, reminding myself Matthew might not be available, that he probably wasn’t even remotely interested, and also, that he had a reason to have a service dog.
“That dog,” said Gram. She studied Matthew with her mountain woman’s sharp gaze. “That’s some unusual training.”
“Yeah,” said Matthew petting Parker behind the ears. “He’s part guard dog, part emotional support.”
“Part guard dog?” I asked, curious.
“Yeah, he guards me against doing stupid things. Since Iraq, I have problems with impulse control. Not such a good thing for an ex-Marine.”
“You served there?” asked my grandmother.
“Grandma,” I said, protesting her prying.
“Yes. But when I got slammed into a wall, not even my service helmet helped me. So, they sent me home.”
“Sounds like you regret it,” I said.
“You can take a man out of the Marines, but you can’t take the Marine out of the man. It feels like I left my buddies back there without me to help. But,” he said, spreading his hands, “they don’t want me to help anymore. So here I am.”
I studied Matthew’s face again. The last bits he said seemed truthful, but still, the question remained. Why was he here?
“Have you had dinner yet?” asked Gram amiably. “Meleyna was just about to put something on the table.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“Nonsense,” she said. “Usually it would be me doing the cooking, but since I broke my hip Meleyna has been working double duty. And after dinner, maybe you can help my granddaughter feed the animals. She could use a hand.”
“Grandma, don’t be imposing on Mr. Rees.”
“Please,” said the stranger, “please call me Matthew. And I don’t mind paying in trade for my supper.”
“Good,” she said. “We don’t often have other people to dinner since Randy stopped coming around.”
“Oh my God,” I said more sternly this time. “At times, I think you need obedience training.”
Matthew’s eyes crinkled with amusement at the exchange between the two of us.
“Oh, pish,” Gram said with a dismissing wave of her hand. “Matthew, dear, Help me into the house.”
She held out her arm, and he gently helped her out the chair. I pursed my lips and walked into the house. What was Gram up to? She was unusually friendly to this man from Idaho.
“Is everything healing well?” I heard him ask my grandmother.
“Yes, the doctor says I can start physical therapy. But I’m worried. Meleyna and I could be in town for half a day doing that, and I don’t want to leave the animals alone.”
“Don’t you have anyone else to help you?”
“No. It’s just my granddaughter and me. I suppose I could hire some help, but I can’t take just anyone on, can I? After all, twenty dogs and the various other animals we house are a big responsibility for any length of time, and it takes a special person to be able to handle all these animals.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake, I thought, cringing slightly. She was blowing our situation out of proportion. There were any number of neighbors we could rely on for help. After all, that’s what neighbors do.
I opened the refrigerator and thought the leftover Sunday ham would do just fine, along with the mac and cheese I’d made the previous night. I pulled both of those out the fridge to warm in the microwave. A salad would complete the meal.
“Meleyna,” said my grandmother a bit too sweetly. “Make some of those biscuits of yours.”
“You really do cook,” said Matthew with an admiring smile.
Oh damn. Why did that smile make me shake in the knees?
“You know, Grandma, the mac and cheese are enough carbohydrates.” I flicked a glance over at him. “Diabetes. We have to watch the diet.”
“Pre-diabetes,” she said derisively. “And why are you telling people my personal business?”
“Just in case you try doggie begging behind my back.”
“I should whup you.”
I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You could try,” I retorted. And then in a low voice, I hoped Matthew couldn’t hear I whispered. “Behave.”
But my grandmother’s eyes twinkled with mischief. Whatever was churning in her head would result in something embarrassing to me. It usually did.
Parker watched me as I moved through the kitchen. He sat very still, just observing me.
“Here,” said Matthew as he rose from his seat. “Let me help.”
I almost said no, but thought better of it.
“Carve the ham, and I’ll pop the slices in the microwave to warm them after I get the mac and cheese heated.”
He took the knife I offered, and as he turned to the ham, I thought I heard him mumble something like “talk about heat.” But that was just wishful thinking on my part. It was against the odds that he shared the strong attraction I was feeling.
And yet, did I catch a glimpse of interest in his eye?
Disgusted with myself, I shoved a hunk of mac and cheese into a bowl and stuck it in the microwave. I was getting myself excited over nothing.
“That’s enough,” I said, looking over the pile of slices Matthew cut from the ham. There are only us three.”
“Yes,” said Matthew with a handsome smile. “But you don’t know how much I like ham.”
“So,” said Gram, “your dog has some impressing training.”
“Thanks. We worked together for two months learning how to read each other.”
“So, you know dogs?”
Matthew shrugged. “I picked up credentials for dog training along the way, but that’s not why I have him.”
“And you’re looking for a job.”
He shrugged again. “I’m unemployed.”
“And not sure what you are going to do with yourself, are you?”
“Grandma, you’re being rude,” I chided.
“No. I’m taking a good look around here, and there is a lot of work you haven’t gotten to. You need help. I think,” she said folding her hands under her chin, “the good Lord has sent an answer to a prayer. Matthew, how would you like to work here?”
“Grandma!” I protested.
“Now, who is being rude,” she said.
“That’s a nice offer, but—”
“But what? You’re looking for work, and we need help. The perfect solution to both our problems.”
Matthew’s face paled as if he was caught in a trap. I suspected that half of his story was bullshit, but I wasn’t sure just how deep it went. Or how much I could trust him.
Parker poked his muzzle in his leg. “Sorry, buddy,” said Matthew. “I’ve got to feed him.”
“Let’s go to the kennel, and we’ll discuss my grandmother’s proposal.”
“Meleyna, don’t you go scaring him away.”
“We’re just going to have a little talk. What do you say, Matthew?”
Matthew
Parker and I followed Meleyna out to the long kennel that sat behind a chain link fence. The chain links were a bright silver color that indicated the fence was built recently. Fresh crushed gravel was spread between the concrete walkway that ran the length of the building. Individual dog runs pushed out from either side of the building and fresh crushed gravel spread between the pens. Behind the dog run area, I could see a horse corral and another building, which likely housed the other animals.
Meleyna walked ahead of me and then stopped by a trash can. It laid on its side, and she muttered as she bent to pick it up. This gave me a good view of her shapely backside. I found myself licking my lips at how nicely her ass filled her jeans.
I told myself to settle down and that this beautiful woman probably didn’t share these intense feelings of
attraction that I was feeling. But there was no doubt in my mind that the picture in my pocket did not do this woman justice.
Meleyna picked up the strewn trash. “When I come across the critter that’s turning over this can he’s going to have a “come to Jesus meeting” with my shotgun.”
“Happens often?”
“No, just started. But it’s obviously after the open dog food cans. I’ve found some of them licked clean.”
“You use can dog food?”
“Not me. But some of the clients bring it for their dogs.” She shrugged. “Their dogs. Not for me to argue.”
The residents of the kennel raised a cacophony of barks as she opened the door to the kennel.
“You’re a woman who likes to get down and dirty, it seems.”
“Tomboy? Yeah. I blame my father. Riding, dogs, animals, football with the neighborhood boys is what consisted of my childhood. No Barbies in sight.”
“I like that.” I smiled. “I think that’s awesome.”
She blushed. “Okay, puppies,” she called clearing her throat. “Settle.”
I didn’t expect that the dogs would listen, but the din died down. Parker nudged my leg and raised his brown eyes to me as if asking permission to leave my side.
“Stay,” I commanded.
“You can let Parker walk the kennel. It’s not like any of them can hurt him.”
“I wouldn’t want him to upset the others.”
“Dogs,” said Meleyna casually. “They get excited. So, what do you feed him?”
“A meat-based kibble.”
“The fancy kind, eh?”
“I intended to stop off at the store and get him some.”
“Don’t worry. I have this one. Used by breeders everywhere.”
Meleyna hauled up a bag of a pricey dog food.
“Not all the dogs like it. Some are the meat and potatoes kind of dogs, so I keep different brands.”
“Wow, where I trained with Parker the owner insisted on one brand.”
“Well, I get a lot of different dogs here. Some are overflow from the pound. At times when I get them, just getting them to eat is a challenge. They’ve been wandering and feed on what they could hunt or dig out of garbage cans.”
“Sounds like a handful.”
“Yeah. By the time I get them, the vet has checked them over and given deworming medicine and anything else they need. But they are dogs on the mend and not always happy with the food choices.”
Meleyna handed me the food bowl.
“Here, Parker, dinner,” I said, as I set the food on the floor.
Parker circled from the dogs he was sniffing, looked at the food, wagged his tail and then walked back over to the dogs in their kennels.
She pulled a pile of metal dog dishes from the dishwasher in her work alcove.
“Here,” she said. “Put one scoop of food from this pricey bag in five of the bowls, and one scoop of the meat and potatoes brand in the next five. I’ll hand them out.”
I did as Meleyna asked, and soon the dogs were chowing down on their dinner. She returned to the alcove where I stood, but an uncomfortable silence rose between us. I didn’t know what to say to her, and she seemed to have the same trouble.
“So, Marine, eh?” she asked finally.
“Yeah. I never do things in half measures.”
“How long were you in?”
“Four years, three in Iraq.”
“I see,” she said thoughtfully.
“Look, if you have questions, just ask.”
Meleyna kicked at the cement with her boot. “Why are you here, Matthew? What’s the catch?”
I studied her face and wondered how to answer. She leaned against the wall waiting for my answer. I’d told her to ask questions, so I supposed I should be as a truthful as possible.
“Answer me a question. Did you have any relatives deployed in Iraq?”
“No.”
“Friends?”
She raked her fingers through her long blonde hair.
“Why do you ask?”
I drew in a deep breath. This was going to be difficult to explain. My reasons for being here sounded crazy even to me.
“Because,” I said, drawing the picture of her out of my wallet, “I found this in a village outside of Kabul.”
Meleyna stared at the picture of herself with a look of shock on her face.
“My God,” she breathed in shock.
“And I don’t want you to think it weird, but ever since I found that picture I’ve always gotten out of scrapes without a scratch, unlike some of my unit members. This picture was my lucky charm.”
“Lucky—” She looked at me wildly, and I could see this whole thing go south quickly.
“Look, I don’t want you to get weirded out. We’ll leave. I’m sorry to have bothered you. Come on, Parker, let’s go.”
Parker returned to my knee, and I picked up his lead.
“Let’s go, big guy.”
We started for the door though Parker looked over his shoulder toward Meleyna. He gave a little whine, and I regretted dragging him and me to this place. Obviously, I had pinned too much hope on this meeting.
What exactly did I hope to accomplish? This was a long shot from the beginning. Finding Meleyna was a stroke of luck, but right now it appeared my luck had run out. And worse yet, the pull I felt toward this woman was magnetic, and it was difficult to walk away.
“Wait,” she called out.
I turned to look at her, both wanting to and dreading it.
“I did write someone there. It was through a pen pal program, and he asked for my picture. I never heard from him after that. I have no idea what happened to him.”
“Oh,” I replied. I didn’t know how to respond to that. She was a thoughtful woman to write to a soldier far from home. But seeing how distrustful she was, I couldn’t expect that thoughtfulness to extend to me.
“Is there a way to find out, about my friend?”
“Was he someone important to you?”
“No. I mean I cared what happened to him, but I’d never met him. And my boyfriend blew up when he found out.”
“Boyfriend?” I asked. The word both thrilled me and brought me to despair.
She was taken.
She blushed. “Sorry. I was so surprised at what you said that I—”
“Spoke the truth?” I offered.
“Oh damn,” muttered Meleyna.
“It’s okay,” I said. Words failed me at that moment, and both of us stared at the concrete.
“Look,” I said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “I understand. It’s not—”
“A big deal?” said Meleyna.
“Not at all. Look, I came here because I wanted to thank you for saving my life. I know that sounds whacked, but the Sandbox, is crazy, and you hold onto anything that keeps you sane. It was just a picture, but I felt like someone was watching out for me. As long as that photo was in my pocket, I felt safe. It’s hard to explain, and I wouldn’t blame you if wanted me to leave and never show my face here again.”
“I didn’t do anything. I wrote to a soldier, and it wasn’t even you.”
“I know,” I said. “But it made all the difference. If it wasn’t for you, your picture, I wouldn’t even be alive.”
“That,” said Meleyna, “sounds like a story.”
“It is. Do you want to hear it?”
She pushed a filled food bowl toward Parker. “Eat up, big guy. Your human has a tale to tell me.”
She moved toward a refrigerator that sat in the alcove where she kept the dog food. She pulled out two beers and handed one to me.
“No thanks,” I declined it, waving it off. “It’s not good to get me started with that.”
She shrugged and opened her bottle.
“That sounds like part of the story too.”
“It is.”
She leaned against the wall and sipped her beer. She looked at me through wisps of blond hair that hung in her eyes.
“So?”
“I was a scout sniper, two man teams, recon and special assignments. My partner and I were on assignment looking for a good place to set up for the mission. Jack,” my voice caught, and Parker immediately raised his head from the bowl. “Jack was cutting up, teasing me about your picture. He dropped it, and I went to get it. He took a step forward, and then—no more Jack. IED.”
“Sorry,” said Meleyna.
“So am I. All I got was a trip via the blast into a wall. Head injury. When they figured out they couldn’t fix me they sent me home.”
“Sucks.”
“Yeah. Give me that beer.”
“I thought you said—”
“Yeah. Forget I said that. Anyway, I didn’t “adjust well,” and my therapist thought I could use a service dog. That’s when I went to the training facility and met Parker.”
Parker, hearing his name, raised his head again and wagged his tail.
“I was a fucking dick about the whole thing, but this guy here decided he knew who he liked. When Parker saw me, he came right over to me and wouldn’t leave me alone until I paid attention to him. The trainer, Max, said he never saw anything like it.”
“And what does Parker do for you?”
“Quite a lot. He’s tuned into my moods, and when I get tense, he alerts me by getting my attention so I can focus on calming techniques. He’s a big help in making sure I keep calm and steady.”
“But he does more than that.”
“Well, because I was such an asshole at home, we trained him to get in between me and anyone I argue with.”
“Yeah, I saw that. But what do you mean by being an asshole?”
“You’ve heard about Marine training, right? That any Marine is classified as a deadly weapon.”
“Is that true?”
“Yeah, it’s true. But I’m the biggest danger to myself. Almost got into some serious trouble. The last guy I nearly fucked up was the bouncer in the local bar. He’s okay. The crew at the bar managed to pull me away before I seriously hurt him. But it was a close call. That’s why I couldn’t turn down training with a service dog. Words were said, mainly along the lines of, ‘get your shit straight, or walk straight out the door.’”
