Elliott had done Rebel a solid by driving her to the ferry terminal in the middle of a thunderstorm. As a reward, Mabel McGill had compared him to the three-legged dog that was now riding in his back seat next to Buddy.
Elliott steered the Jeep around a deep puddle as they made their way back to the resort. He leaned in to the door to escape the slimy tongue that kept licking his ear.
He’d much rather the beautiful redhead who was riding shotgun do the licking, but he shouldn’t let his mind go there.
Scratch that. He couldn’t let his mind go there.
Even though he knew better than to get too personal with his ex, he still wanted to know what had her upset enough to sit in the cold and stare at the Morgans’ store in the pouring rain, wearing flimsy spandex running gear and a thin jacket that wasn’t even waterproof. The sixth sense that guided him through turbulent stock market trends told him her odd behavior had something to do with the Morgans. He just wasn’t sure why.
When Bogart wouldn’t stop getting way too intimate with Elliott’s ear, he shooed him away with the flick of a wrist.
Rebel put a hand over her mouth to cover a grin. “He likes you.” She grabbed the Oh shit bar above her door as the Jeep bounced through a pothole. “Both Bogart and”—she hesitated, her tone shifting—“and Buddy like you.”
That was a record. Two dogs and neither was growling at him. He supposed the dog licking his ear was better than it biting his ankle. Or humping his leg.
Bogart moved to the other side of the back seat, stuck his head through, and gave Elliott’s left ear a bath.
“His name should be Willie because he keeps sticking his tongue in my ear,” Elliott complained, scrunching his shoulder up to block the next onslaught of licks.
Rebel’s deep, hearty laughter filled the cab and took him by surprise. He’d forgotten how much he’d loved her laugh. Her home life had been so difficult when they were teenagers, so he’d tried to make her laugh as much as possible. Something shifted in his chest at the memory of Rebel showing up at school with dark circles under her eyes and no homework to turn in because of her mother’s latest drinking binge.
He leaned forward and draped both forearms over the steering wheel to escape the dog’s tongue. “Seems to me Bogart needs a service dog of his own.”
Rebel giggled again, and his heart thrummed.
“He’ll never be a dog for someone with a severe physical handicap, but he’ll be fine with a companion who needs comfort more than anything else.” Her voice turned small. Almost frail. “He won’t be able to go on long walks, but he might be able to pick up lightweight things that his eventual companion drops, like sunglasses, car keys . . . compact umbrellas.”
“Ah, Dan Morgan,” Elliott said. He had a brain injury from when he was a kid. If memory served, it had happened right after Elliott left for college. Maybe seeing Dan in the window of the store was the reason for her strange behavior. Rebel had always had a big heart.
She nodded. “Bogart’s handicap might be advantageous. He’ll be able to keep pace with Danny . . . um, D-Dan,” she stammered. “Dan moves slowly, so a dog with too much energy would be overwhelming.” She turned away to stare out the passenger window, the reflection off the glass showing a sadness that ran deep. “I accepted Lily’s offer to take over the boot camp because training and finding matches for PTSD and traumatic brain injury is my specialty. Those injuries are more prevalent among veterans, but I’ll work with anyone who’s suffering.”
“How did that become your specialty?” Elliott guided the Jeep along the meandering road that edged a pond on the right, the water jumping from the drizzling rain.
“Um . . .” She nibbled at the corner of her mouth in that sexy way that mesmerized him. Every damn time. Her chin trembled, and her dog stuck his head through the front seats to prop his chin on her shoulder. She gave his head a pat. “There are different types of handicaps and different types of service dogs for each. I’ve trained them all. Now that I’ve built a solid reputation, I’d rather help people with specific problems.”
That didn’t exactly answer his question, but she was finally talking. Opening up. Try as he might to stay detached from Rebel and her past, his curiosity was getting the better of him. So he let her keep talking.
“In my experience, people who suffer internally tend to be overlooked because their injuries aren’t visible or obvious.”
As irritating as it had been to be compared to a maimed dog, hadn’t Mabel McGill just said as much?
He turned in to the resort, passing between the stone columns on each side of the entrance with a wrought iron arch stretching overhead that fashioned the words THE REMINGTON in rugged lettering.
“So you don’t help wealthy families figure out why their pampered dogs keep tearing up four-million-dollar leather sofas like they’re giant rawhides?”
She tugged at an earlobe with a guilty as charged expression. “To be honest, I’ve done exactly that. Many times. Helping a family bond with their pet is never a bad thing, even if it’s more of a first-world problem. It’s usually the human’s fault, not the dog’s.”
“So dogs hating me, present company excluded”—he glanced into the rearview mirror at the two lolling pink tongues—“it’s my fault?”
She gave him an unapologetic shrug. “They can sense when a person doesn’t like them.”
“How?” This he had to hear, because he wasn’t so sure he bought into it.
She turned to study him. “Well, the first clue is the human’s body language. Say, someone leaning forward to keep a dog from touching them, their shoulders bunched up around their ears.” She folded both lips between her teeth to hide a grin and wasn’t quite successful.
That grin made his heart sing. Made his pulse rev. Made heat creep up his skin until he wanted to pull at the neckline of his shirt.
He flipped the knob on the dash twice, turning down the heater.
“Very funny.” He’d give her that one just because it’d made her smile. “So were you lurking outside the market this morning to see if Dan might need a service dog? Or was there another reason?”
Her smile faded. Her body stiffened from the top of her wet red hair to the tips of her soaked, squishing running shoes.
Another question she wasn’t willing to answer, and this one had her clamming up completely.
He passed the main lodge and followed the road around to the motor-pool garage, flicking off the wipers, since the rain had stopped.
Well, he could find Lily and tell her he’d changed his mind. Tell her he was prepared to see the boot camp through. Tell her to kick his ass if he let himself get too close to a woman he shouldn’t trust.
When he pulled to a stop alongside the other Jeeps, one of the garage bays was already open.
“Thanks for the ride.” Rebel had one leg out the door before he even cut the engine.
“Hold on a sec.” He reached for her arm to keep her from bolting from the Jeep. “What’s going on with you this morning?”
She sighed, pulled her leg back inside the Jeep, and let the door ease shut. “Really, it’s nothing.”
“Right. I call bullshit,” he deadpanned.
She let her head rest against the seat. Long lashes fluttered down as she closed her eyes on a slow blink. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
Elliott wanted to reach out and cup her cheek in his palm. Taste that lip that she kept worrying between her teeth.
Fuck. He was losing his shit. Maybe telling Lily he wanted to stick with the camp wasn’t such a great idea after all.
Then again, it might be his only chance to get the answers he’d been after for ten long years. And God help him, he did want answers, even though he shouldn’t.
A rap on the window had him jumping like a wussy kid at a horror flick.
Elliott’s head snapped around to find Lily standing at his window, her usual bright, hospitable smile in place.
He turned off the engine and got out,
shutting the door before his new furry friend jumped out after him and really did start humping his leg.
“Hey!” Lily bubbled with excitement. “Guess what?” She didn’t wait for him to respond. “I found a replacement!”
“Oh, uh,” was all Elliott could think to say. Yeah, that Ivy League degree was coming in handy.
Rebel got out with the dogs and brought them around to join the conversation.
“Isn’t that great?” Lily was so wired over her accomplishment, she didn’t even notice Bogart or his missing leg. “It helps to have a fiancé who’s also a pilot. He flew me to the Cape, and I popped in to the local shelter, wielding my powers of persuasion.”
Of course she did. Lily didn’t fail at anything. Damn her.
A guy Elliott didn’t recognize walked out of the open garage door. He was big, built, and what Elliott guessed most women would consider good-looking. The guy’s gaze locked onto Rebel, and one corner of his mouth cocked up in an I like what I see kind of way.
Elliott disliked the asshat already.
“This is Jax,” Lily almost shouted with enthusiasm. “He’s getting familiar with your setup.”
Jax? Nobody was really named Jax. Had to be fake. Probably a name he invented while moonlighting as a male stripper.
“Hiya.” Jax stared at Rebel with a goofy smile that said he probably wasn’t very bright. “I stalked your Instagram account on the way here. Gnarly work you do. WestCoastDogWhisperer is a bitchin’ handle.” He gave both dogs a playful scratch, and they wagged their tails, their full attention firmly on him.
Elliott found it oddly irritating that the dogs liked Jax. He found it even more annoying that Jax had found Rebel on Instagram. Elliott rarely bothered with social media, a habit he’d have to change. He actually had to download Instagram first, though, because he’d never had time for social media because of his demanding hours at the firm.
“Um, hello,” Rebel said.
“Cool place,” Jax said. “It’s my first time visiting the Rem.”
Rebel’s dog barked and spun in a circle at the mention of the resort, like Jax had issued some sort of command.
“Shhh!” she hissed, shushing Buddy with an impatience Elliott hadn’t seen from her.
“Jax works at the shelter on the Cape,” Lily explained.
“Oh.” Rebel’s one-word response had way too much approval in it. So did her full, honest smile. “That’s fantastic.”
No, it wasn’t. It sucked, actually, because Elliott was going to have to explain to Lily why he’d changed his mind after she’d gone to the trouble of finding someone with more experience than himself.
“Welcome.” Rebel grasped Jax’s hand between both of hers and shook it. “This is an immersion program—”
Jax’s brow scrunched like he didn’t understand what that meant.
“It’ll be very fast-paced so we can teach the matches as much as possible while they’re here,” Rebel kept explaining. “I’m going to need help once the campers arrive tomorrow.”
Wait. What? She’d tried to convince Elliott since day one that she didn’t need help. Or maybe it was that she didn’t want his help.
He took a step back. “So, Lily. I’ve decided to stay involved with the camp.”
“Oh. Well, great!” Lily beamed. “Keeping a Remington at the helm will make the sponsor happy.” She said her goodbyes and hurried off to rule the world with her iPad in hand.
Elliott’s jaw hardened, and his stare slid to Jax. “Thanks for coming all this way, but we won’t be needing you after all. The resort is happy to compensate you for your trouble. Just leave us your mailing address, and I’ll cut you a check.” He glanced at his watch. “Next shuttle leaves in fifteen.”
Jax looked confused. Not in an “I don’t understand why I’m being let go” kind of way, but more like “I don’t understand the word compensate because it’s more than two syllables.”
Rebel gave Elliott a patient smile. “Nonsense. We need all the help we can get, and having Jax here is a win-win.” She turned to Jax. “I’ll show you around.”
“Aiya,” he said.
Rebel started for the garage, then stopped. “Oh, here ya go.” She swished her shoulders to shuck Elliott’s jacket. “Thanks for letting me use it.”
He held up a hand. “Keep it.” Unable to stop himself, his gaze slid all the way to her running shoes. “It looks better on you.”
She stilled, the tip of her pink tongue slipping through her lips to trace her mouth.
Hell. Old wrinkly guys in Speedos.
“Go on.” He hitched his chin toward the garage. “I’ll catch up in a sec.”
Elliott stayed rooted in place, watching her disappear through the open bay with her new protégé in tow. Why was he pissed at Rebel for being so enthusiastic over having help from a fellow dog lover? Better yet, why was he pissed at Lily for having the audacity to do exactly what he’d asked of her?
It damn sure wasn’t a win-win. He was supposed to be in charge of an event he had absolutely no idea how to handle, working with a woman he absolutely shouldn’t trust beyond her knowledge of dogs. He was torn between wanting to ask questions about her past and being scared of the answers. And now he had to run interference for a guy who seemed to have half the IQ of Rebel’s dog, if even that, but would probably be better than Elliott at the task ahead.
Chapter Seven
#TRAINWRECKINTHEMAKING
Rebel wasn’t sure why Elliott had such a problem with their new assistant. The only thing she was sure about was that he definitely had one. He’d been quiet, distant, and brooding since Jax’s arrival yesterday.
“Nice weather.” Rebel made small talk as the three of them waited on the dock behind the resort for the service dogs to arrive on Trace’s plane.
Rem leaned hard against her side.
Elliott stood farther down the dock, his eyes hidden behind a pair of Oakley sunglasses. He kept his attention on the inlet’s glassy water.
Jax shifted his stance, and his arm brushed hers. And stayed there. “Aiya, good weather.”
Elliott’s exasperated sigh wafted on the breeze.
Okay, she could see how Jax might get a little annoying. He had a sweet smile that lit his eyes. Unfortunately, that light was on but no one was home. It wasn’t his fault, though, and even if he didn’t understand the boundaries of personal body space, he seemed harmless. He wasn’t a trainer, but at least he had experience with animals, working around them every day.
She fiddled with the new leashes in her hand. “So, Jax, how did you come to work at a shelter?”
“I like dogs. They like me too.”
Simple but honest.
“My boss lets me keep a set of weights at the shelter so I can work out on my breaks,” Jax said randomly.
Her foot tapped against the wood planks. “Well, connecting with dogs is something we have in common.” She pointed to his biceps. “And the weight lifting is certainly working.”
Elliott’s head swiveled in her direction.
Good Lord. She bit her tongue to keep from rambling more nonsense.
Elliott went back to brooding at the water. It was unnerving how well he pulled off that look. How was it possible to make a flannel shirt over a thermal, a faded pair of jeans, and all-weather boots look as classy as a tailored suit, just because he’d added sunglasses?
She clenched everything from the waist down.
Elliott possessing an unfair amount of swagger was another reason she needed to stay detached. Cool. Indifferent.
Or at least pretend to be all those things because her mind couldn’t stop wondering what if? Her uterus—rebellious floozy that it was—couldn’t stop turning flips like a high-school cheerleader either.
She’d come by her name honestly.
She clenched harder.
Rebel moved a step to her right and gave Rem the signal to come to her side. He eased in between her and Jax, and Bogart followed.
She glanced at E
lliott.
His jaw relaxed, but he kept his distance.
She wouldn’t let Elliott’s dismissiveness bother her. Not a bit. The more distance they kept between them the next month, the better. He was already asking questions. If the older, more experienced Elliott was anything like the young, keen Elliott she’d known, his inquiring mind wouldn’t stop until he’d pieced together the entire puzzle.
She couldn’t let that happen. The shameful truth had been buried right along with her mother, and that’s exactly where it could stay.
Tap, tap, tap, tap. Her foot clicked against the dock at machine-gun speed.
Jax shifted closer. “Too much caffeine this morning?”
Not nearly enough. She stepped in the opposite direction to put more space between them.
Rebel closed her eyes and tipped her head back so the sun could soak into her cheeks. So her mind could stop wandering. So her body could stop clenching.
A whirring noise sounded in the distance, and she opened her eyes to see a dot in the sky. It grew bigger, the sun glinting off the metal.
“’Bout time,” Elliott grumbled.
When the floatplane touched down, slid across the mirrorlike inlet, and coasted to the dock, Elliott moored it with a thick nylon rope.
“Coooool,” Jax said. “I couldn’t see the plane land while I was riding in it yesterday.”
Oh boy.
Elliott gave him a look that said that’s as moronic as it sounds.
Jax closed in on her again, standing flush against her side.
Elliott stilled, staring at them.
Could he be . . . jealous?
Nah. He obviously didn’t care enough about her to be jealous.
The engine shut off, and a chorus of barking filled the air.
Elliott stepped back like he’d been bitten.
Rem whined.
Bogart cocked his head to one side, and his ears pitched forward.
What on earth? If the dogs were all barking at once, the training handlers weren’t doing their jobs.
She held her breath as Trace climbed out of the cockpit, ready for her first face-to-face with another Remington.
Dare Me Again Page 9