by Hall, Traci
She opened the fridge to put her lunch bag on her shelf—the bag was also labeled in purple glitter, as was her tea mug and water bottle. She and Violet may have gone overboard when it came to the glittering, but it had been fun. Sawyer hadn’t said a word.
He’d bought an apartment-sized stove and put it to good use as he heated up frozen dishes served with a bagged salad for the guys. He ran the construction crew as if he’d been doing it all his life, organizing Bill’s vets and expecting them to do their share, while Jimmy helped with some of the technical decisions.
It was hard for Grace to be upset with him, because he was giving the veterans honest work and feeding them both lunch and dinner. The results showed. Sawyer and his men had the first shelter built in back of the office building and were now painting it a deep blue. They’d be open for business on Monday, and he’d done it in only a week.
Grace had five bucks in her pocket to give Bill when she saw him later.
Sawyer hurried into the break room with Kita at his heels, two cardboard boxes in his arms. The dog loved being with Sawyer wherever he went, whereas Diamond, Kita’s brother, had decided that sleeping near Grace’s desk was his favorite spot. The dog had “borrowed” Grace’s sweater and given her such sad puppy eyes that she hadn’t had the heart to demand it back.
“Morning,” Sawyer said. Sage, cinnamon, cardamom. And gardenia? She resisted sniffing deeper and snuck a peek at his Levi’s. His black T-shirt stretched tight across his toned chest. Today he wore black motorcycle boots, as if he were a biker instead of a dog trainer. His features were made for the movies.
“Good morning.” She tilted her nose up the slightest bit as she scooted out of the way to the other side of the oval table.
Sawyer set the groceries on the counter and turned to her. “I’m barbecuing for the guys today after work, if you’d like to stay.” He dug a package out from inside a shopping bag to show her. “I bought veggie burgers. And a grill.”
Grace didn’t roll her eyes at the thoughtful but wrong idea that she was a vegetarian. “Thank you, but I have other plans.” Her physical attraction toward Sawyer was better managed if she wasn’t in the same room as him.
How could he make a plain cotton T-shirt so mouthwatering? The black fabric invited her to touch, to smooth over his broad shoulders and trim abs. She wanted to ask how he’d gotten that scar as she kissed his ribs.
Grace looked down at her purse before she made a fool of herself. He’d ignored her all week, just as she had him. To be fair, he’d been very busy.
“Hot date?” Sawyer put the burgers in the freezer along with twenty-four all-beef patties. Buns went on top of the fridge, and onion, tomato, and lettuce into the crisper.
“Yeah.” It was time to clean out the chicken coop and add fresh straw.
“I guess you know all the hot spots in Kingston,” Sawyer said. “The clubs.”
His almost black brows arched together as he eyed her aqua peasant skirt and sleeveless pink-and-aqua silk top. She’d accessorized with three loops of beaded rose quartz for a necklace and tucked a silk pink flower in her hair.
She laughed softly, unable to walk away from the conversation. From him. “You’d have to take the ferry into Seattle if you want a night club.”
The idea of Sawyer dancing dried her mouth. Would he take charge on the dance floor? A sudden image of him swishing her around, hip to hip, cheek to cheek, with fast-paced music blaring flashed through her mind, and her skin tingled at the memory of what he’d felt like against her in the sand. Hot and hard.
“You don’t seem like the dance club type,” he said.
She crossed her arms. “That would be correct.”
“What kind of music do you listen to?”
“Whatever’s on the radio.” Grace had never been the kind that had to have music or the television on for background noise. She preferred the sounds of nature—the water, the wind, or rain. And her noisy chicks.
“Country music?”
“Uh, no.” She wasn’t a fan. “I like rock music. Stuff from the fifties and sixties.”
He stepped back as if she had the plague. “Not the Beatles.”
“They’re classic!”
“Old.”
“Hey!” Her grandmother had all of the albums and a record player. Sawyer probably had a state-of-the-art stereo system throughout his house and listened to techno.
“I’d be happy to share some music from this century with you.” His white teeth glinted as he laughed.
Him sharing anything with her sounded terrific, and dangerous, and like a very bad idea. He’d taken up so much of her brain space already and they hadn’t even kissed.
“As I said, I’m fine. Thanks anyway.” She shouldered her purse and lifted her purple insulated water bottle with GRACE painted on the side. “Gotta get to my desk. Don’t want to be late.”
He scowled as she left the break room with a smile, glad to have scored the last word.
Still smiling, she hiked to her desk and turned on the lights. The interior that seven days ago had seemed so barren now had a cozy yet modern style. Sawyer had the cement floor polished to give it a shine yet still provide easy clean up with the dogs.
He’d kept the four-foot wall around the desk area to separate the space from the rest of the lobby. There were three offices across from her desk—largest farthest back was Sawyer’s and the other three were filled with dog beds, leashes, whistles, training treats, dog brushes, nail trimmers, and shampoo.
Upstairs were five offices he’d turned into bedrooms for his brothers or for trainers staying from out of town. He’d brought indoor plants for greenery around the lobby and the future receptionist’s desk.
Sawyer followed her out from the kitchen. Rather than ignore her, as he’d done all week, he asked, “Is Diamond bothering you?”
Grace glanced at the older pit bull and shrugged. “Nope. All he does is sleep.”
Sawyer peered closer at Diamond sprawled on a beige dog bed and her angora sweater. She used to like it but realized she wasn’t getting it back.
“What’s that?” he said.
“Just my sweater he’s using for a blanket.”
Sawyer clapped his palm to his forehead, his biceps flexing beneath the arm of his fitted T-shirt. “He loves blankets. Sorry. Can I buy you a new one?”
The kindling fire building in her belly was doused by his offer. Was that Sawyer’s answer to everything? To throw money at it?
“No.” She frowned at him. “It’s all right.”
The computer read five to nine. Grace pulled the new ergonomic chair from the desk and sat down.
“How are things going here?” Sawyer eyed the bookshelves and the filing cabinets.
“All good. What did you want me to work on today?” She’d maintain their professional distance and not lower her guard again.
Sawyer leaned over her desk to watch Kita lay down on the dog bed next to Diamond, making him scoot to the side.
Sawyer pulled a chair over to sit by her. What on earth was he doing? He was too close for her to ignore, and her pulse skipped.
“I’d like you to create a character trait form for the dog owners to fill out.”
“Okay.” That sounded interesting, and she could focus so long as he didn’t look at her. “What would you like on it?”
She took a paper tablet from the middle drawer of her desk and got out a pen to take notes, accidentally brushing her elbow against his.
This close, Sawyer’s cologne made her think of hot nights on a tropical island somewhere. Not gardenia. Something spicy. Carnation. She gripped her pen tight.
“We’ll need a picture of each dog that will be attached to the sheet. That’ll be your job. In fact, I’d like you to start with Kita, Diamond, Bert”—Sawyer’s jaw clenched when he said the troublesome pup’s name—�
�and Sky.”
She breathed in. Carnation had spice. She hoped he wouldn’t notice her mind wandering. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Why do you only have four dogs? How many will be in your shelter?”
“Training center,” he corrected, sitting so close that his jeans touched her skirt. “I rescued Diamond and Kita—they were my first.” He glanced at her, and she tried not to stare at his long lashes.
They’d probably feel like corn silk if she were to kiss them. Her stomach warmed, and she shifted on her chair. “Yes,” she managed to say.
“Sky I got with my ex. When she cleaned out my house, she left the dog.”
Grace had read such horrible things about him online, things she might have believed if she hadn’t met Sawyer, but even though he was rule-driven and arrogant, he’d also been very good to Bill and his men.
“Bert?”
His mouth firmed. “That dog is a reminder not to be too prideful. He ate my tennis shoe last night.”
Grace was so surprised by that she laughed. “Poor Bert.”
“Poor Bert?” He smiled and flashed a deep dimple she never would have suspected on the hard-jawed Sawyer. “I have to train him to pass the AKC Canine Good Citizen test or he won’t be certified.”
“Is that a big deal?”
“Yes.” Sawyer put his hand over Grace’s to make sure he had her attention—and boy, did he. All of her body parts zinged to attention. “I’ve never had a dog fail.”
Chapter Nine
Grace’s wide blue eyes grew twice their brilliant size as he spoke.
Yes, his words might sound arrogant, but they were also the truth. He lifted his hand, realizing his fingers had curled over the top of her knuckles, relishing and memorizing the smoothness of her skin.
“You know what? Before you do the form, why don’t you get pictures of the four dogs? I’ll show you how I want the files done.”
She inched back from him, pink mouth in a straight line.
Was he being too demanding? He’d been doing his best to steer clear of Grace, because he always acted like a jerk around her. Yet, when he’d thought of having the barbecue to celebrate the first week of Bark Camp, he’d immediately wondered if she would stay late.
Which had made him wonder what she would eat—certainly somebody who didn’t drink coffee wouldn’t eat meat.
He was a carnivore, but he’d bought the veggie burgers to tempt her.
But no, she was going on a date.
With who?
What would they do, if they didn’t go to a club?
Maybe the movies? He shook his head, trying to get Grace out of mind, but her cute upturned nose and curly hair had stubbornly taken up residence.
The sound of the Veteran’s Association’s bus outside gave him a reprieve. He’d been trying to identify the light floral perfume or lotion that Grace wore. It wasn’t the expensive stuff Daniella had bathed in, but a subtler and more natural scent that made him want to get closer—to see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.
Grace edged back, peeking at him before she lowered her gaze to the pen and paper on her desk. Her lashes curled upward over a swipe of blue powder on her lids. Grace was so feminine, tiny but curved, soft to his hard. She was smart, too, getting his computers and the wireless printer in his office all set up. She’d be great at putting together the questionnaire for the dog owners. Why wouldn’t she accept a permanent position? He’d be willing to bet that her job at the high school teaching photography was only part-time.
Nobody he knew would give up security to freefall.
Bill pushed open the door and severed the line of fascination Sawyer had with Grace’s pink cheeks. Five guys in jeans, assorted T-shirts, and boots followed him in. Though on the rough side, the men were clean and well-mannered, and thanks to them, the training center would be finished on Monday, ready for the dogs.
His favorite recruit so far was Rudy, who’d lost two fingers in an explosion yet maintained a great attitude.
He’d contacted his best kennels for six-month-old pups that had taken to basic training that he could mold into specialized service animals. His talk with Bill about the soldier’s depression and Sarge being a lifesaver made him wonder if his focus should be more on the veterans and not just as a publicity stunt to save his career.
The more he saw these guys, their inner demons and work ethics, he knew the dogs he trained would help on multiple levels.
He rose and stepped back from Grace, needing a breath that wasn’t floral-scented.
Grace also stood, seemingly eager to put distance between them.
“Bill!” She reached into the pocket of her blue flouncy skirt, pulled out a green folded bill, and laughingly handed the cash over. “You were right.” She applauded the veterans. “Amazing job, guys.”
Jimmy Laramie, about forty years old with lines of survival etched in his forehead, grinned. He had a crew cut with silver strands. “With a boss like Sawyer, there’s no chance to mess around. The man knows what he wants.”
“I haven’t worked so hard since the Army,” Colton, Jimmy’s younger sidekick, said.
The men bumped fists.
Sawyer knew he could be tough. That’s how his world worked. He also tried to be fair, but if there was ever a question, he led this pack and his was the final vote.
“Grilling burgers later, Bill, if you want to stay when you pick up the men?”
“Sounds great,” Bill said. He pocketed the five dollars from Grace. Sawyer was glad that he’d known about the bet ahead of time.
“Are you staying?” Colton asked Grace. The guy was handsome enough, Sawyer figured, with dark-blond hair and brown eyes. He had an understandable and obvious crush, though Grace seemed clueless.
“Grace has a date,” Sawyer said firmly, creating boundaries to keep the others back.
Bill’s brow arched in query, but Grace shook her head and returned to her desk. “Sawyer, if we wait until Monday, I can bring my camera for the pictures of your dogs,” she said.
“Let’s see what you can do with your phone,” he challenged. They hadn’t once talked about the replacement he’d given her, and he wondered if the camera was what she’d needed. He’d been so wrapped up in wanting her that he knew he had to stay far, far away from anything personal.
She tucked a shiny curl behind her ivory ear. “I’ll see what I can do. Where are Bert and Sky?”
“They’re in the dog run out back. Take Diamond and Kita’s pictures first, and I’ll go get the others.” That probably sounded too bossy.
Her chin rose. “No problem.”
“I’ve got four pups showing up on Monday, so we’ll be in business. Next time, Grace, you should bet on me.” He turned to the five veterans in jeans and T-shirts, some scruffy, others less rough around the edges. “You guys ready?”
He strode around the partition to the lobby area and led them out the rear exit, which emptied into a grassy area and the rough-timber single-story shelter, determined not to glance back at his temporary receptionist. Had he actually gotten the last word?
Hallelujah.
Sawyer breathed the fresh-cut pine smell into his lungs. He loved the physical labor involved in creating his own training center and connecting to his roots. It reminded him of when he and his brothers, Tomas and Bobby, had built his first center on a lot in downtown L.A., graduating from the storage container.
“Where would you like us?” Jimmy asked. He’d been a great group leader, competently directing the other men with his technical know-how without a tug of war between egos.
“Why don’t you and Colton apply the final exterior coat and trim? Two men to paint inside, and someone to assemble the chain-link kennels.” He’d planned for each building to have room for twenty dogs—any more than that was too confusing for the animals’ pack mentality.
“I l
ove puzzles. I can do the kennels,” Lincoln Bates said. He had deep scars on his hands and face that he’d gotten from an explosion. His work on the plumbing had been excellent, and he was one of the guys Bill had tried to coax into renting a private room rather than sleeping in Salsbury Park.
Once everyone was working on their projects, he brought Sky and Bert in to get their pictures done. The two dogs raced inside, and he blew the whistle to get them to stop. They did, but it was like a vaudeville show how Bert stumbled over his own paws, tripping Sky, who slid along the polished cement.
Both dogs stopped in surprise at Grace, who was sprawled on the lobby floor. Her blue skirt clung to the back of her bare ivory thighs. She raised her cell phone as she got an up-close picture of Diamond’s nostril.
His gut clenched at the sweet curve of her knee. “What in the hell are you doing?”
Chapter Ten
Of course Sawyer had to walk in while she was in photographer mode.
Grace jumped up from her spot on the floor and smoothed down her skirt, hoping she hadn’t given him an eyeful.
“Taking pictures of the dogs,” she said, wishing she could stop her blush. She felt it crawl up her chest and throat to her cheeks.
“Like that?”
“Yes.”
“Why is Diamond wearing your sunglasses?”
“I was going for cute.” She contemplated the dog’s adorable black nose and the diamond around his eye. “Like Elton John.”
Sawyer sighed as if weighted down by the world. “This isn’t what I had in mind.”
“Then you probably won’t like what I did with Kita.” She sniffed. The tough dog had posed with the pink flower between her teeth like a supermodel.
Sawyer strode across the floor, arms crossed, muscles flexed, gorgeous to her artist’s brain. “Just give me a picture where they’re sitting still, okay? No accessories.” Sawyer snapped his fingers at Sky. “Come.”
