by Kate Kinsley
I couldn’t help but grin, the joy this woman brought to me in a matter of two days was unreal, and I wasn’t going to fight it. I’d known friends that felt this way and I never understood it until that moment.
Epilogue
One Year Later . . .
Veronica
“Babe!” I yelled out the back door to Dave, who was playing fetch with Sasha.
“Yeah? What’s up?” he yelled back, throwing the ridiculously large stick across the yard. Smokey and Bandit tried to play along too, and Dave was like a juggling clown trying to throw balls and sticks and whatever they all wanted to run after.
“I need your help with these puppies. Jax and Vivian are coming over in an hour, and we gotta feed them and get them outside so we don’t have another incident.”
Dave scrunched up his nose and jogged toward me, leaving the toys behind. “We wouldn’t want another puppy poop extravaganza when we’re having guests, would we?” He laughed and kissed me as he came in the house.
“No, we would not want that at all. Or ever for that matter. What were we thinking fostering all these fucking puppies?” I said to no one in particular.
“Diana already had a full house, how could we not?” he replied, laughing. “Besides, everyone loves puppies. And maybe they’ll all graduate and be someone’s service dog someday. How amazing are we to be a part of that process?”
I rolled my eyes at him. I already was a part of that process, every day at work. But his point was valid. He’d found his retirement—hobby, I guess you could call it—but it was more like a calling. Fostering puppies so they are socialized enough to become service dogs, or at the very least, go to service dog school.
Our story unfolded and took off quickly. Once we realized we bid on the same house, and there was something between us, I pulled my offer. I’d considered having us buy it together, but with his VA loan, and his more urgent need for the house so he could bring Sasha home right away, it just made more sense for him to buy the house. We started dating exclusively the day he met Sasha, the day we shared our first kiss—an emotional explosion of lust and need—right in what is now our front yard.
A few months later, he asked me to move in and I said yes without a second thought. We’d become inseparable anyway. Me and the boys, Smokey and Bandit, hightailed it over to be with our best friends that day, all our shit in tow. It’s true what they say, when you know, you know. Not every day was or will be a great day, and Sasha is always with Dave, making sure he has the support he needs.
I’ve continued working to place dogs with veterans in need—definitely my calling—and he started raising puppies to get ready for their training and handlers, and we began building kennels in the backyard to accommodate the dropouts that needed a home.
Our very own doggie halfway house.
Even though things moved fast with us, we bring so much joy to each other’s lives every single day. I’m more fulfilled than I ever thought possible, and being with Dave has taught me the work I do is so much more important than I originally believed, and has shown me on a much deeper level what the men and women who served our country really go through, and more importantly what they need.
I remind Dave what he’s going through is normal, makes him human, and how love makes him stronger. Connection is everything, and watching him chase after all these puppies, a huge grin on his face, shows me just how happy he is and how far he’s come—how far we’ve come together.
I’ve been blessed to have him in my life, and couldn’t be luckier he’s mine. He’s everything I’d always wanted—affectionate, motivated, loving, and sexy.
He just needed a place to stay.
Also By Amy Briggs
The Brotherhood of District 23
Fired Up (Book 1)
Fully Involved (Book 2)
Controlled Burn (Book 3)
The Complete Brotherhood of District 23
The Brotherhood of District 23 Coloring Book
Standalone Novels & Novellas
Fairy Tales Reimagined Series
Dream State (Book 1)
Little Queens Duet
Royal Protection
Roman (Book 1 of the Clutch)
(co-written with Heidi McLaughlin)
Love in the Midwest (Novella Duet)
Christmas With You (a Holiday Anthology)
Love & Donuts
Jordyn’s Army (an Anthology)
One Hot Summer (an Anthology)
About Amy Briggs
Formerly a firefighter and EMT, Amy Briggs grew up next to a military base, which inspires many of her stories. Her love of fairy tales contrasted with suspense carries through each of her novels and she hopes to inspire readers to fall in love with love. Amy lives in Texas with her family and more cats than she can handle.
Amy loves to hear from readers and can be found on all the social media here: www.facebook.com/amybriggsauthor, Instagram @amybriggs23 & on Twitter at @amybriggs23. You can also email her at [email protected]
Find a full list of all of Amy Briggs books at www.amybriggsauthor.com
Patriotic Paws
Before Staff Sergeant Garth Andrews deploys overseas, he leaves his best friend, a pit bull named Roscoe, in the hands of a volunteer foster mom, Chloe Baxter. After Garth is seriously injured, he and Chloe grow closer through emails and social media, while he recovers in a military hospital in Germany. Now Garth has two reasons to get well and return home—to reclaim his dog and to ask Chloe on a date.
Chapter One
When the bell to the front door of Pepper’s Playhouse jingled, Chloe Baxter looked up from the week’s schedule she’d been studying behind the reception desk. The canine daycare and boarding kennel she owned—named after her six-year-old black Labrador—had been in business for over four years now. During that time, it’d become a respected and popular place for local dog owners to leave their pets for a few hours or days whenever needed. According to Yelp, Pepper’s Playhouse rated 4.9 out of 5 stars, with over three hundred reviews, a fact Chloe was very proud of.
The handsome, uniformed soldier who’d entered removed his cover—revealing his close-cropped, salt-and-pepper hair—and tucked it under his arm. Being near Fort Bragg, Chloe was used to seeing men and women in uniform all over town, and she had quite a few military families among her regular clientele.
Smiling as the man approached, she said, “Hi. Can I help you?”
“I hope so, ma’am. I’m looking for Chloe Baxter.”
“Well, you found her. I’m Chloe.”
She spotted the Army captain’s bars on his stiff lapels just as he introduced himself. “I’m Captain Boyd. I understand you’ve been fostering Staff Sergeant Andrews’s dog, Roscoe, while he’s been deployed.”
Chloe glanced over her shoulder to where the dog was curled up on a large, round bed on the floor with Pepper. At the sound of his name, the gray pit bull got to his feet, walked toward her, and then leaned against her leg. His tail wagged low behind him as he let out a soft whine. He was one of the sweetest dogs she’d ever met—a true ambassador for his often-misrepresented breed. For the past seven months, Chloe had been taking care of Roscoe as part of Patriotic Paws. It was a local program where kennels, groomers, doggie daycares, and individuals or families volunteered to give deployed soldiers from Fort Bragg a safe place for their pets to stay until their tours were up.
During his time overseas, Staff Sergeant Garth Andrews had been able to access the Pepper’s Playhouse live camera feeds, which were streamed on its website, where he could see Roscoe playing, sleeping, and eating. Chloe had also gotten his email address, knowing Garth might miss certain things because the videos weren’t recorded. A few times a week, she’d send him photos and her own videos of Roscoe, and, according to the staff sergeant, each one had been greatly appreciated. Chloe was going to hate having Roscoe leave in two weeks when his owner finally returned home.
As she was about to lay a hand on Roscoe’s head, she froze whe
n things clicked into place in her mind. She felt the blood drain from her face as she stared at the captain and swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “Oh, God, no. Please tell me he’s okay . . . that he’s not . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to say the last word. She’d be devastated if she was told Garth had been killed in action.
Captain Boyd’s deep-blue eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head. “No! Oh, sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to frighten you like that. No, Andrews is okay—well, he’s alive. I can’t tell you much, but he was injured and will be at the US military hospital in Landstuhl, Germany for several weeks—well past his scheduled demobilization date. He was very concerned about Roscoe and adamant someone make sure it would be okay if the dog stayed with you until he’s well enough to fly home. His CO contacted me and asked me to stop by to see you.”
Chloe hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until it escaped her on a heavy, relieved sigh. The first day she’d met Garth to show him where Roscoe would be staying, he’d told her he didn’t have any family left that he was close to. As a result, his loyal companion was the one he’d worry about the most if something happened to him during his deployment. “Oh, thank goodness. I mean, not that he was injured and is in the hospital but that—”
Boyd held up a hand. “I understand, ma’am. Again, I apologize for scaring you like that.”
“No, no, it’s all right. And, yes, of course Roscoe can stay longer—as long as he needs to. He’s really a sweetie. In fact, instead of making him stay here each night, I bring him home with me and Pepper. I think it’s helped him with the long separation from his daddy—I mean, Staff Sergeant Andrews.”
She blushed because she hadn’t intended to refer to her client so informally, but whenever she spoke to Roscoe about his owner, she’d called the man his daddy and the dog seemed to understand that.
“That’s great. I’ll pass along the information and make sure Andrews knows Roscoe is in good hands until he can get home.”
A thought occurred to her. “Um . . . is there any way the staff sergeant can have access to a tablet, phone, or computer? He’s logged into our website many times so he could see Roscoe whenever he got a chance. I’ve also been sending him photos and videos by email. They always seem to make his day.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’ll help keep his spirits up while he’s in the hospital.”
The captain smiled and nodded. “I’ll see what I can do about getting him back online then. I’m sure he’ll appreciate every connection to Rosco he can get.”
“Thank you. And, please, let him know if he needs me to do anything else, I’m more than happy to help.”
“I’ll pass that on, too. Thank you, ma’am, for helping one of our soldiers.”
Her blush returned at the sincere gratitude in his voice. “It’s the very least I can do for all they do. My dad was in the Army for four years before he met my mom. He raised my sisters and me to respect the uniform.”
“Sounds like a good man.” He took a step backward, just as the bell over the door jingled again when Mrs. Melrose entered with her Pekinese, Pinky, for the dog’s bi-weekly grooming appointment. “I’ll let you get back to your work. Have a good week.”
She waved her fingers at him. “You too. And thanks for stopping by to update me.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
Saying a few silent prayers for Garth’s speedy recovery, Chloe pasted on a smile for her longtime clients. “Hi, Mrs. Melrose. Hi, Pinky—ready for your bath?”
Chapter Two
Staff Sergeant Garth Andrews groaned in pain as he tried to shift into a more comfortable position. It was sometime in the early morning hours of the day because the skyline was barely showing the reds and oranges of the upcoming sunrise. If he had to guess, it was around 0630 hours—forty-five minutes or so before the city surrounding the hospital would come to life.
It'd been five weeks since a buried bomb had exploded, during a routine patrol in Afghanistan, putting a huge monkey wrench into what was supposed to have been his team's last two weeks of deployment. In the seconds leading up to the explosion, the freakiest thing had happened, saving all their lives and leaving them with mostly minor injuries—Garth's broken leg, hip, ribs, and arm, along with a concussion, being the worst.
Corporal Ellis Beasley had been driving their Humvee along one of the many dirt roads in the region, leading two other vehicles. They’d been on patrol for about forty-five minutes when a pack of wild boar—or a sounder of wild boar, as one of their geekier teammates had informed them—had darted out from the brush on the shoulder. Beasley had slammed on the brakes and spun the steering wheel, coming to a jarring stop perpendicular to the road only a foot or two away from the nearest of the dozen or so beasts. Those suckers grew big—some tipping the scales at 170 to 220 pounds—so you really wanted to avoid hitting them, even in a Humvee. The team's relieved jokes and laughter had been cut short a moment later when one of the larger boars had tripped a buried IED, blowing up about half of animals and the passenger side of the lead vehicle. Unfortunately, Garth had been in the front passenger seat, taking the brunt of the blast on his right side, and had been knocked unconscious.
When he'd awoken about an hour later, in agony, he'd already been medevaced back to the base. The medical staff had given him something for the pain and stabilized his limbs, before transferring him to the military hospital in Germany. And that’s where he was still stuck for another week until he could return to the States. His broken ribs had finally healed, and the casts on his calf and forearm would be coming off before he was discharged, but he needed a freaking walker and more therapy before he could put his full weight on his hip. Crap, he was going to look like a withered old man using that thing, but as his current therapist kept reminding him, if that was the worst of his problems, he was damn lucky.
At least the casts and walker were temporary. As his thirty-ninth birthday approached, he'd already planned for this to have been his last tour. With the hip replacement that’d needed to be done, he probably would've ended up with a desk job instead of returning to combat for another tour anyway. Between the inheritance he'd received upon his parents' deaths, and that of his uncle who'd never married or had any children, Garth had been looking forward to starting his own business.
He wanted to open his own coffee café called the Daily Grind. His buddies always teased that he was a caffeine snob, but he always shrugged it off because it took an exceptional kind of brew to satisfy his taste buds. He’d found a few specialty coffee companies he loved and wanted to have a place where he could share his finds with other people.
He planned to have comfortable sitting areas with wingback chairs, loveseats, and even recliners, in addition to regular pub-style tables and chairs in the store where customers could relax and enjoy their coffee and something to eat. There would also be some outdoor seating areas, and Garth hoped to find a way to bring Roscoe to work with him that wouldn’t violate any health laws.
In the downtime during his deployment, he’d been looking into all the legal stuff that went with starting his own business and had even made sure the name he had in mind for the shop hadn’t already been taken. Once he was home in Fayetteville again and officially discharged, he’d start scouting the area for the ideal location for the Daily Grind.
But first, he had to get back to the States, pick up his dog, and finish healing. Garth couldn't wait to see Roscoe. The pit bull meant the world to him. With no siblings, and only a few cousins scattered about the country, Roscoe had become his only immediate family—completely by accident.
Not long after returning to Fort Bragg after his last tour in the Middle East, he'd been taking one of his early morning jogs through a local park on his day off, when he'd come across the three-month-old, gray-and-white puppy. The little guy had been crying for his momma, food, or both from under a bush and had caught Garth's attention. From his condition, the pup hadn't been there long in terms of days but had probably been left there the ni
ght before. After picking him up and inspecting him for injuries, Garth had settled him into the crook of his arm and searched around for anyone who might've been looking for him. With no success in finding the owner, Garth had taken the puppy home with the intent of bringing him to a no-kill shelter near the base when it opened later that morning. But somewhere between stopping for a small bag of kibble and feeding him at home, Garth had fallen in love with the pup and had given him a name. And once his landlord had found out about the rescued animal, she'd assured him Roscoe was welcome to stay.
Garth hadn't lived on base in over ten years, preferring a small cottage he'd found to rent behind his landlord's house. Mrs. Schofield was a widowed schoolteacher in her sixties and had become a good friend to Garth. She always checked on him and made sure he had a place to go during the holidays, when he wasn't deployed. They’d gotten so close over the years, that Garth had put her down as the person to be notified in case he was killed in action. If that happened, she knew his wishes, his lawyer’s name, and all the details that would need to be taken care of. The only reason she hadn't taken care of Roscoe while Garth had been away on this last tour was because she was quite allergic to him. While she loved to watch Roscoe play in the fenced backyard, she couldn't bring him into her house or even pet him. However, it was Mrs. Schofield who'd made some inquiries and had found out about Patriotic Paws, the organization that'd helped place Roscoe with a caring volunteer.
After meeting Chloe Baxter at her business—Pepper's Playhouse—Garth had been happy to see she and her dog, Pepper, got along great with Roscoe. He would have plenty of playmates during the day, in both the indoor and outdoor doggy areas, and also his own large kennel, which had been more like a room than a cage, to sleep in at night. Garth had been fine with that but had also agreed Chloe could take Roscoe home with her at night if the dog felt comfortable enough with her. Garth liked the idea because it meant Roscoe wouldn't be alone—he'd had enough of that for a year when his new owner had to go to work. But Garth had made sure to make up for it when he'd gotten home each day. He'd spent hours playing, training, and spoiling the dog during his free time.
