by Carol Ross
After a pause, she said, “Me, too. The chunkier the better, like the kind with cookie dough bites, or chocolate chips, or gobs of brownie. Although right now, I’m feeling a cheeseburger. With bacon.”
Kyle barely managed to stifle a sigh. Of course, she liked bacon and cheeseburgers. No matter what bad things he’d done in this life, he didn’t think he deserved this kind of torture.
Up ahead, Kyle focused on the girl now being pulled along by the rambunctious dog. The little boy’s top scoop leaned precariously to one side. Kyle stepped forward, ready to come to his rescue when, plop, it hit the ground. Stopping in his tracks, he stared down at the calamity. “Mommy! My ice cream...” He broke off with a sob.
Mom glanced over. “Oh, no,” she said, crouching beside him. “It’s okay, Henry.” She slipped an arm around his shoulder. “Shh, don’t cry, sweetie. We’ll fix it.” Eyes scanning the sidewalk ahead, she called, “Marnie, don’t cross the street yet, okay? I need to help your brother.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
The dog had other ideas. With a quick backward shuffle and tip of his head, he slipped out of his collar, leaving Marnie holding an empty leash. The dog bolted into the street. Marnie screamed.
“Oh, no!” Mom cried. “Marnie, stay here. Indy!” she called to the dog. Thankfully, the light at the nearest intersection was red, and the cars in the street were at a standstill. Kyle knew very well that would change all too soon.
Asking Harper to follow, Kyle rushed forward until they’d reached the frantic mom.
“Hey, I’m Kyle and this is Harper, and we’re going to help you,” Kyle said quickly, noting the dog was now on the opposite sidewalk. “I’ll go get your dog. Do me a favor and don’t call for Indy anymore, okay? The light is going to change, and the cars will start moving, and I don’t want him running back out into the street.”
With wide eyes on the verge of panic, Mom nodded. Ice cream momentarily forgotten, little Henry gawked up at Kyle. Marnie, who’d run back to her mom, held on to the stroller, crying softly.
Kyle turned and ran across the street. Once on the other side, however, Indy seemed uninterested in his plan, darting here and there, pausing only long enough to sniff interesting smudges on the sidewalk. Mimicking the singsong voice he’d heard Mia use with dogs, Kyle talked to him the whole time. He’d get close only to have Indy slip out of his grasp. A few times, when he stopped long enough to gobble crumbs, Kyle almost caught up to him. His quest for kibbles would be funny if the dog’s safety wasn’t in jeopardy. Cars were now driving past on the street.
When Indy stopped to sample what appeared to be a partially eaten hotdog, Kyle remembered a trick he’d seen Mia do with her dog, George. He let out a short, sharp whistle. Indy, already moving again and seeming intent on nosing his way inside a bakery, turned curiously.
“Hey, Indy,” Kyle called. He crouched down and tapped the ground. “What’s this?” He cupped his hand like it held a yummy treat. Tail wagging, Indy trotted over to inspect the offering. Kyle gave the dog an affectionate scratch. Indy licked his ear and sat like this had been his plan the whole time.
“Good boy,” Kyle cooed. He glanced up intent on asking Harper to bring him the collar and leash but found that she was one step ahead of him.
Handing it over, she said, “Here you go. Well done. Your next career could be as a doggyguard.”
“Very funny,” Kyle said with a chuckle, adjusting Indy’s collar. “I don’t think ten minutes of cat and mouse with a runaway dog exactly qualifies me as a dog whisperer. Plus, I forgot to take the collar with me. Thank you for that piece of quick thinking.”
“But it was so entertaining. I liked that high-pitched voice you were using. Have you considered auditioning for the boys’ choir?”
Kyle gave it up and laughed with her. The three of them crossed the street toward the grateful family.
“Oh, Indy!” the woman cried, burying her hand in the dog’s silky fur. “You scared the daylights out of me.” Bending over, she planted a kiss on the top of his head. She stood and beamed at Kyle. “Thank you. I don’t even know what to say. That was just...incredible.”
“No problem.”
“How did you do that thing at the end to get him to come to you? Did you have a treat in your hand?”
Kyle chuckled. “No. Luckily, my sister is a veterinarian. She has a dog who wants to eat everything, and I’ve seen her do that trick with him. Your dog is food driven. I’m just glad it worked.”
“Food driven? Are you like a dog trainer or something? My name is Helen, by the way.” She pointed at the kids before gesturing at the stroller, “This is Marnie and Henry. And baby Shawnie, who slept through the whole ordeal, thank the stars above. And, of course, you already know Indy.”
“Nice to meet you all. Not even close to a dog trainer, obviously from how long that took. I’ve just picked up a few things from my sister. It does make them easier to train when they’re food driven, but it can also distract them.” Kyle patted Indy who was staring at him like they were best friends. “He’s beautiful. Bernese mountain dog?”
“Yes, maybe mixed with golden retriever, the shelter thinks. We just moved here, near Pacific Cove, and we haven’t had him long. He’s a rescue, and we’re still learning how to navigate. Having a dog is a little more complicated than we thought. Buying him a harness is now on our to-do list.” Marnie added a solemn nod. “We could probably use some dog lessons or something.”
Kyle retrieved his wallet and pulled out a card. “If you’re serious, I can recommend someone. My sister has a friend who trains dogs and helps families acclimate with their rescue animals.”
Helen took the card. They chatted for a few more minutes until the kids got restless. After saying their goodbyes, Kyle and Harper went to get those burgers.
* * *
“SO, YOUR SISTER IS a veterinarian?” Harper asked Kyle as she secured a camera to the tripod she’d set up on the footbridge that led to the marina.
Just before daylight that morning, they’d loaded into Harper’s SUV and driven south for some miles along the coast to Tabletop Rock, a giant monolith just offshore, favored by puffins and cormorants. A couple of hours of taking photos there and they’d continued here to Dungeness, a small town nestled near the mouth of the Crab River.
“Yes,” Kyle answered, his gaze bouncing around, landing everywhere but on Harper.
“That’s awesome. I think it’s amazing that a person would dedicate her life to helping animals.”
“I agree.”
Harper waited, hoping he’d elaborate. They’d spent nearly every waking minute together the last two days, and he still wasn’t warming up to her. She might have thought that was just his personality if she hadn’t gotten a glimpse of his softer side that first evening when she’d hired him and then again in Astoria. He’d chatted up Helen and her kids more in five minutes than he had her in the entire time she’d known him. Why did that bother her?
She looked at him. He looked away. It seemed like the harder she tried, the less receptive he was to her attempts. She wondered if she was getting on his nerves. She knew she talked a lot. Being alone will do that to a person. But part of it was also because he basically didn’t talk at all unless it was about safety. Maybe he just didn’t like her. Or maybe the very thing she’d been afraid of was bothering him after all; she reminded him of Owen. What a depressing thought. Maybe she should just quit trying so hard. Why was she trying so hard? He had a job to do, and he was doing it very well. Since it had rained the day before, he’d spent hours teaching her how to use her security system, quizzing her and having her set it in all the various combinations. They’d also practiced using the cameras—angles, zoom, video—neat features she couldn’t believe she’d overlooked.
Leaning over, she peered through the lens of her camera, adjusted the zoom and set it for the light conditions on the dock be
low where a group of sea lions was basking in the late morning sun. The dock was a favored resting spot for the animals and had become popular with tourists, leaving them unbothered by Harper’s and Kyle’s presence. In an effort to not try so hard, Harper resisted the urge to share the differences between a sea lion colony, raft, rookery and harem.
She lasted nearly twenty minutes before breaking, “Did you go to college?” she asked, deciding to make a last-ditch effort. After all, they were going to be together like this for almost a month. They could at least be friendly.
“No.”
“So you joined the Navy right out of high school?”
“Yes.”
“Are you close to your family?”
“Not really,” he answered, squinting off in the distance.
“But your sister lives in Pacific Cove?”
“I don’t want to talk about my family.”
“Oh. I’m sorry,” she returned and instantly felt bad about whatever hardship he’d endured where his family was concerned.
“You don’t need to be,” he said. “See that building right there?”
Harper followed the direction of his pointed finger to the weathered gray structure beside them. “The old cannery?”
She’d photographed the abandoned factory a couple of times now. Built over a hundred years ago and constructed on pilings stretching out into the river, the processing facility had originally been much larger. As the fishing industry evolved and began to rely more and more on large ocean processors, the factory had closed. Years later, a fire had destroyed a good portion of it, and less than half of the original structure remained, now used as a warehouse for a local fishing company. Many of the old pilings could be seen extending unevenly from the water, providing convenient perches for various species of seabirds. A few weeks ago, Harper had taken a brilliant shot of a pelican with a fish dangling from its beak on one of the posts close to shore.
“Yeah.” Kyle asked, “You know about crime scene B, right?”
“What?” Harper zoomed in on a large male sea lion as it drew itself upright like it was posing. Harper chuckled as he made an ostentatious show of barking and flapping his flippers. She snapped several photos before answering, “Was there a crime committed there?”
“Probably at some point over the years. It reminds me of something I’ve been wanting to discuss with you. What I’m talking about is if you are ever in a situation where a perpetrator tries to kidnap you.”
“There’s a happy thought.”
“I know,” he said grimly. “But it’s a consideration with family members of the very wealthy. Fortunately, it’s not as popular as it once was. Not as likely as a home invasion anyway.”
“That’s a relief,” she responded drily. “I’d take a home invasion over a kidnapping any day. There’s no place like home, I say.”
As usual, he ignored her sarcasm. But his mouth-twitch suggested she’d scored a victory. “The point of abduction would be considered crime scene A. You don’t want to be taken to crime scene B because—”
Grimacing, Harper stood upright and interrupted him, “I get it. Because that’s where the really bad stuff happens.”
“That’s right. So we’re going to go over some of the ways you can prevent yourself from being taken to crime scene B.”
“You mean like self-defense moves?” Harper liked that idea, of being able to fend off an attacker like Kyle had done with her dad. “That would be great. I am absolutely pro-ninja, especially when that ninja is me.”
“Yes, we’ll discuss that in a minute. But there are other things you can do, too. Often a perpetrator will threaten a victim not to scream or make any noise. That’s because they don’t want to get caught. If you do the opposite of what they demand—scream and struggle and make noise—sometimes they’ll abandon the attempt.”
“That makes sense.”
“The problem is that fear can make people freeze in the moment.”
Harper nodded. “Operation amygdala.”
“What?”
“Where the primitive portion of the brain takes over. The old fight, flight or freeze conundrum.”
“Exactly,” he said, seemingly pleased that she knew what he was referring to, and possibly that she was taking this seriously. “It’s a complex phenomenon. Despite what some people believe, you’re not genetically disposed to one reaction or another. If you plan for a situation, you can act accordingly. Initially, it might go against your instincts, but you can fight. You just have to be ready. Prepared. Take away the element of shock. We’ll go over some scenarios.”
“Sounds good,” she said, and then dipped back down to watch the sea lions. This particular camera had both an LCD and a traditional viewfinder, which made using it in bright light a breeze.
“I ordered you some pepper spray. Weapons are tricky because they can be disarmed and used against you. So we’ll practice with it. Self-defense moves are better, way more effective. I’ve hired someone to teach you basic techniques.”
Harper looked up at him again, just in time to see him shift on his feet. “Why can’t you teach me?” she asked.
“I think an expert would be better. I found a guy who teaches private lessons.”
“I thought you were an expert.” The sun had moved and was beginning to cast a shadow across the sea lions. She decided to switch cameras so she could get some wider angles of the marina and the harbor beyond. Unhooking the camera from the tripod, she noticed Kyle gazing out at the water. She took his picture.
Slowly, he turned toward her, his expression menacing in a way that no longer unnerved her. She kept snapping away.
Digging in that scowl, he asked, “Did you just take my picture?”
“I did.” She took another. “Several.”
“Why?”
“I want to show you how scary you are.”
His features immediately softened. What was that? Surprise? Concern? Harper was taken aback by the sight. Reflexively, she hit the shutter again before lowering the camera.
Eyes pinned on hers, he asked, “You think I’m scary?”
“Yes,” she answered honestly.
Brow scrunching, he seemed to choose his words carefully. “Harper, I don’t want you to be afraid of me.” He added a little groan of frustration. “This is my fault. I know we need to build some trust but I...”
Harper reached out to touch him, to reassure him, but before she made contact, he took a step back to lean against the railing of the bridge. With a sigh, she pulled her hand back. “I’m not afraid of you. I was teasing. Mostly. But honestly, in general, you can be very intimidating.” And not a ton of fun, she added silently. She turned the camera and held it out toward him. “See?”
Gingerly, he reached out and plucked the camera from her, his big hands surprisingly nimble as he once again avoided touching her. He reminded her of the beast in the fairy tale taking extra care with the heroine. That’s when it occurred to her how extensively he avoided physical contact with her. All the time. Was that why he didn’t want to teach her the self-defense stuff himself? Was it her specifically or some sort of professional line he didn’t want to cross?
Harper nearly laughed out loud as she noticed Kyle glaring down at the image of himself scowling. “It’s not the camera’s fault,” she teased.
He looked slightly embarrassed, and Harper felt kind of bad. But only a bit because she didn’t understand why he was so aloof. She said, “I’m right, huh?”
Lifting a shoulder, he conceded, “Maybe. But, you know, attitude is important when it comes to being a potential target. Criminal research has shown that the more confident and unapproachable you look, the less chance you have of being assaulted. We’ll talk about that a lot more. You’re very poised and self-assured, so that’s helpful.”
Was that a compliment? Harper stared at him, steadily
holding his gaze for a few long seconds waiting for...what? She wasn’t sure. Something, some sign that he didn’t find her completely annoying and repulsive.
Finally, she heaved out a sigh, and said, “Well, you’re extra safe, then, because there’s not a bad guy on the planet that would mess with you when you look like that. Which,” she added confidently, “is often.” Reaching out, she took the camera from a once again somber and silent Kyle and tucked it into her bag. Pulling out a different camera, she fastened it in place, focused on her work and told herself to give it up where he was concerned. For now, anyway.
CHAPTER SIX
AS KYLE PACKED some of Harper’s equipment in her SUV, he thought about what she’d said. It bothered him that she thought he was scary or intimidating or whatever. He knew she was right. At best, he was being some much harsher version of himself. At worst, he was being a jerk. That was not what he wanted. The problem here was that he didn’t know how else to be at this point. He didn’t know how to keep his distance and still be himself with her. Not without letting his emotions get involved.
When they’d set out that morning, Kyle had offered to drive so Harper could watch for photo ops. Again, she was already settled in the passenger seat when Kyle eased into the driver’s side.
“Where to?”
“Home,” she answered, the one-word response reminding him of himself, and making him feel worse.
Kyle started the car and pulled onto the coast highway. “Let me know if you want me to pull over anywhere,” he volunteered. Traveling with Harper, he’d learned, meant lots of stops and impromptu detours.
“I will.”
Instead, she remained uncharacteristically quiet and still, staring straight out the windshield. Until they neared a section of coastline where a large headland stretched out into the ocean, he could see the top of a lighthouse rising above the trees. Peering in that direction, Harper shifted in her seat as they passed. He noticed a road that he assumed accessed the area.
