The Dalmatian Dilemma

by Cheryl Harper

  “If that’s what it takes to convince you that you’ve done everything you can, I say go for it.” Brisa pointed at the stack of résumés. “You aren’t quite as charming as I am, of course, but you inspire confidence in a person. That’s hard to translate into words on paper.”

  Reyna pursed her lips as she decided whether Brisa was complimenting her or insulting her. Since there was nothing but truth in her words, it was hard to argue. “Fine. I’ll do it. Then I’ll come back. I was thinking one of the things we could do to help Sean get his program going is to identify grants that could cover the costs of training.” Reyna started to jot down a list and realized her sister was glaring. “What?”

  “You haven’t even agreed to continue with the dress for success program, the one you said would be a test, and you’re already planning how to swoop in to save Sean’s.” Brisa crossed her arms over her chest. “If you were going to move ahead anyway, why make it conditional on my business attire program?” She tipped her head to the side. “How else would you put me through the hoops to prove my commitment, right?”

  “Trust me, I’m aware of all the progress you’re making. We’ve been fighting over the proper way to build Concord Court and the programs, remember?” Reyna exhaled slowly. “Honestly, I wanted a project to throw myself into. I’d be useless on yours. His? Money is the easiest piece of the problem.”

  Brisa smiled sweetly. “It really is.”

  Something about her tone caught Reyna’s attention.

  “You’ve already started solving the money problem?” Reyna shook her head as Brisa rounded the desk and pulled out a binder. She flipped it open to the first page, where Reyna read, “Targeted Grant Programs—Phase One.” She flipped through the pages slowly. It was a bare-bones outline of the steps they’d need to follow to get Sean’s program up and running. “I told you to put it on the back burner.”

  “You don’t get to decide what I go for, Reyna.” Brisa squeezed her eyes closed. “I haven’t done anything but research. When it’s time, I’ll present something to you and Dad and whoever it takes.”

  “Does Sean know you’ve been working on this?” Reyna asked. Why did she want to know if Sean had been keeping it from her...? Well, she wasn’t going to spend much time thinking about that.

  “No, but I have to have something to work on while I’m sitting at this desk or I’ll die of boredom. I have another, bigger plan, too, but I need to work on it more before you shoot it down.” Brisa smiled sweetly at her.

  “You want me to leave so you can sit at this desk and work on your projects, don’t you?” Reyna asked.

  Brisa nodded.

  Naming the emotion that squeezed in her chest took a minute. Hurt. Reyna was hurt that her little sister didn’t want her help.

  Some things had changed while she was gone.

  That was a good thing, even if it would take her some time to adjust.

  “Okay, that’s what I’ll do.” Reyna stood uncertainly before brushing her hands down her khakis. “I’ll go and apply in person. That will make a difference.”

  “Probably won’t hurt,” Brisa agreed. Probably. That didn’t boost Reyna’s confidence, but she wouldn’t admit that, so she picked up her stack of papers.

  “You’ll call me if you need me?” Reyna stepped out from behind the desk and tried not to mind when Brisa slipped right into her chair as if she had been anxiously waiting for Reyna to move out of the way. Brisa immediately moved the stapler back under the computer monitor. “But you won’t need me.”

  Brisa widened her eyes. “Can’t imagine it.”

  Right. On that note, Reyna pasted on a smile, waved as if she didn’t care that she could so easily be replaced, and stepped out into the heat. Mira and the rest of the running group were finishing up their morning jog. Sean was in the middle of the pack as they slowed to a stop near the pool. She hadn’t come up with a good solution on how to act as if everything was normal between them. Mimi’s birthday party had changed things, but it shouldn’t have.

  Once you’ve seen someone do the hustle, you don’t ever look at them the same way.

  And a handsome guy who loved his grandmother, danced like no one was watching, and was currently watching her while he wiped sweat off his face with his balled-up T-shirt...

  It was a lot to adjust to.

  “Morning, Reyna,” Mira called. “You missed our run. Next time, join us.”

  It was impossible to think of anything she’d like less than jogging in the Florida heat. “I’m strictly treadmill, Mira. Years of running in the elements has convinced me to take it easy these days.” When she ran. She hated running with a passion.

  “Smart. Running is stupid,” Sean muttered as he sat down in the deep shade on the parking lot curb. “I only do it because I’m afraid of Mira.”

  “And don’t you forget it.” Mira shook her head as she met Reyna’s stare. “These men. You’d think I forced them to run at gunpoint.”

  The charged silence as response suggested they had nothing but complaints but were unwilling to share them. Sort of like every forced run she’d ever been on.

  “At least it’s over,” Sean muttered before turning to Reyna. “Where you headed to?”

  Reyna studied the rest of the group, who had taken some unseen cue to drift away. “Did you tell them to do that?”

  Sean glanced around before snorting. “Nah. They have it in their heads that we’re going to fight or something.”

  “Why?” Reyna had never been one for public confrontation. Now was no time to start.

  “They think I poke at you too much.” His lips slid into a grin. “Doesn’t mean we have to fight, though.”

  Reyna agreed. “You do poke. Why is that?”

  Sean slowly stood. This close, all Reyna could see was tanned skin and his lazy grin. She couldn’t have turned away from him if someone offered her a fortune. Sean Wakefield was strong and tall and too handsome for this time of day...or any time of day. Reyna cleared her throat and met his stare. It would do no good to let him know she thought so.

  “I like to get your attention, Reyna.” Then he raised his eyebrows. Then he crossed his arms over his chest.

  As if he was waiting for her to... What was he waiting for her to do?

  Reyna waved her stack of papers. “I’m going to go see if I can hunt down someone who doesn’t care that I’m bossy and a Montero and that I dropped the dummy on his head.” She shrugged. When she put it like that, the task grew harder—much harder.

  Sean took the papers from her hand and scanned the top, her résumé of accomplishments in the Air Force. His whistle was long and low. “You know, I joined the Marines because I thought I could be a hero like this. Decorated for military service.” His smile slipped as he handed her the stack. “Not everyone can manage it.”

  There was something there. Sean’s face had changed. His eyes were darker. The smile reappeared. “They don’t hire you, they need their heads examined. Tell them I said so.”

  Reyna laughed because he wanted her to. Why didn’t she know how to answer him?

  “Thanks. I needed a pep talk.” Reyna shifted on the sidewalk. “You’re good at that.”

  He folded his hands and bowed. “We can’t all do what you do, but I have my talents.” He moved to walk through the pool area, but Reyna held out a hand. She wanted to say something, but what? His eyes bothered her.

  “You don’t talk much about your time in the service, Sean.” She cleared her throat. “If you need someone to talk to, I’m happy to listen.”

  He studied her hand on his arm. “Thanks.” He waited until her hand dropped. “It wasn’t that long. Just long enough to leave me with nightmares for the rest of my life, I guess.” He tipped his head up to study the brilliant blue sky. “Fire wakes me up at night. And you want to volunteer to run into the flames.” He shook his head. “Couldn�
��t do it. Another way Reyna Montero beats me.”

  Something funny would be good. She could toss it out, release some of the building tension between them and get back to her plan for the day.

  But it wouldn’t come.

  Because that wasn’t her talent. It was his.

  Eventually she squeezed his hand. “Hey, those nightmares? Imagine how many of them your dogs will chase away for vets all over Florida. That’s a pretty cool superpower to have, Wakefield. Don’t forget that.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Superpower?” He held a hand to his chest. “Little ol’ me? You’ll turn my head, you will, Ms. Montero.” His drawl was cuter than it should be, but he’d managed to set them back on level ground.

  Reyna turned to get into her car, the warmth of his stare following her. When she started the engine, Sean had braced a shoulder against the wrought iron fence around the pool, and he was staring at her. She could skip this errand. If he was going to be at the pool, she could join him. Sean would make sure she was distracted from all the worries that chased each other around in her head.

  He answered her wave with a lazy one of his own and she forced herself to back out of the parking spot. He was an employee of Concord Court. She was still in charge of the Court for...possibly forever. No one needed the complication of a flirtation between them—not her, not him, and not Brisa, who would get caught in the fallout for however long she was here. And if things went badly, Sean could lose his job. Luis Montero wasn’t above using Reyna’s feelings to get what he wanted.

  Better to get some distance, so she pulled out of the parking lot and drove to the first fire station she could think of. She’d applied for positions in Miami and in the neighboring towns. Sawgrass Station, working for Mort Fields and being close to home—that was her goal, but she was trying to be realistic. More stations meant better chances of getting a job. There was no way she could get to all of them in one day, so she might as well make these visits count.

  Logically, Sawgrass Station made perfect sense. She’d work the three-on, three-off schedule required, and she’d plug in whenever she could at Concord Court. Then she would have it all. Her father couldn’t argue if she was on-site overseeing everything, even if it was part-time. She would continue to be able to help with whatever Brisa needed.

  If she needed any help at all.

  Reyna was still adjusting to the fact that her little sister had completed every task on the to-do list Reyna had made up in her mind.

  There was no actual list on paper lying around that Brisa could see and follow. Her sister had come up with her own tasks and checked them off without supervision. What if this period of time, when she’d been forced to ask Brisa for help, turned out to be exactly what Brisa had needed all along?

  Reyna almost drove past the station because she was trying to imagine a world where Brisa was settled and confident and prepared to stand on her own. It would be amazing. It might also kill their father.

  With a hard brake, Reyna whipped her SUV into one of the station’s visitor parking spots. She checked her hair and realized she hadn’t gone home to change out of the Concord Court polo. Should she come back?

  Would she give this another shot if she didn’t seize her chance right then and there?

  It was hard to say, but Reyna was afraid she knew the answer, and she’d be disappointed in herself if she didn’t get out of the SUV and go inside.

  She managed to slide out of the SUV and shut the door without hesitation. Then she paused to check her reflection in the window. Hair—fine. Nerves—written all over the grim expression on her face. If there was one thing she’d learned growing up a Montero and then solidified in the military, it was to never let them see her sweat. Who was them? All of them. Her father, her sister, the men and women she fought beside and those who reported to her. The only thing constant in military service was change. That shook up most people. Reyna wasn’t immune to nerves but she’d learned to convince other people she was. They respected that.

  She straightened her shoulders and walked toward the glass door leading to the modern building. On the right side of the building, four doors were up, revealing two ladder trucks and one engine. This was a large station serving an urban area. If she could get on here, Reyna would be part of an important team.

  She paused and pulled to open the door before remembering it pushed open. Irritated with herself for missing the reminder on the door, Reyna hurried inside. Pulling instead of pushing was an easy mistake. People made it all the time, so if someone was watching her, she’d pretend it didn’t bother her.

  Then she realized no one was paying her any mind. She’d stepped inside chaos. Before she could get up to the counter, she heard, “Don’t let her out the door!” The male shout urged her to action, so Reyna stepped in front of the door, prepared to be the last line of defense.

  Instead of a gun-waving robber or whatever she’d imagined in that split second, a large white dog with black splotches came galumphing around the corner of the desk. Before Reyna could relax, the dog had two front paws planted on her abdomen, and a tongue swiped across Reyna’s cheek.

  If someone had shot her right there, Reyna wouldn’t have been more startled. She was frozen in place.

  Then Pulaski bounded into the small reception area and slid to a halt in front of her. “Good thing you didn’t let her get away.” He tugged the dog back down on all fours. “Excellent timing, Montero.”

  Reyna had to catch her breath. It was easier now that the dog wasn’t leaning on her stomach, but she hadn’t recovered by the time six firefighters filed in behind Pulaski, as well as Mort Fields. “Not looking good for your assignment, Pulaski. Thought you were going to teach Dottie some manners.”

  Reyna was happy to have arrived for this moment, even if she’d be wiping dog kisses off her face when she got home.

  “She’s out of control, sir,” Pulaski answered.

  Reyna said, “You mean the dog, right?” She pointed to herself and raised her eyebrows. The smiles on the firefighters’ faces were reassuring. They got her joke.

  Pulaski’s fake laugh was satisfying, too. “What are you doing here, Montero?”

  “Came to see the chief,” Reyna answered.

  The chief braced both hands on his hips. “Reyna Montero. Didn’t expect to see you here today. Most people wait until I call them to come talk about a job.”

  Had he meant to call her? Was that what he was saying?

  “Sir, do you have time for a quick meeting?” She waved the résumé she’d brought in. “I won’t take much of your time.”

  He motioned with his head to an office nearby. The walls were glass. His desk was spotless. Chief Fields was a man who liked order, apparently. How did Dottie fit into this equation?

  As if she’d been summoned by the thought, the dog wiggled in a wild dance over to sit at Reyna’s feet. There was no word that described the dog’s expression other than adoration. Since she’d never had a dog, Reyna hadn’t expected to fall in love in a heartbeat, but it was impossible to look down into the dog’s eyes and not understand that she loved Reyna unconditionally.

  Was this what Sean went through with his rescues?

  “Pulaski, go find something to clean. We’ll return Dottie in a few minutes.” The chief held the door open, waited for Reyna and the dog to enter, and shut it behind them. Reyna slid the paper onto the spotless desk and then brushed away a white hair that floated down onto the shiny surface.

  “Yeah, the hair gets everywhere.” The chief sat down and nodded as Dottie came over to spread more kisses around. “It’s worth it, I guess.” He scratched the dog’s ears. Dottie sighed happily and they both looked at Reyna with a question.

  The problem with starting here was that Mort Fields already knew the list of qualifications she’d rehearsed in her head. He’d already hired Pulaski, who had won their relay in front of the c
hief fair and square.

  But she was here. She had a chance to make a case. She owed it to herself to take her shot.

  “I had hoped to discuss my qualifications with you, sir. I don’t know if you are looking for more firefighters to fill out your crew, but if you are, I hope you’ll consider me. I served for two decades in the United States Air Force. I understand the requirements of service. I would like to continue that commitment here.” Reyna forced herself not to go on about her skills. She wouldn’t be bossy. She’d try to be friendly. If the dog would leave the chief, Reyna would talk only to Dottie for the remainder of her visit. The chief was politely listening to her pitch, but he’d already filled the job. Waiting for him to dismiss her would be easier if she could stare into Dottie’s eyes.

  But Dottie wasn’t leaving his side. She stared up at Mort with devotion.

  Dottie loved well, and she wasn’t stingy with her targets, either.

  “I thought firehouse dogs were supposed to be purebred Dalmatians,” Reyna said and quickly added, “sir.” Dottie was large. Reyna couldn’t identify the dog’s makeup, but her best guess was there might be a Great Dane in the mix.

  He sighed loudly and patted Dottie on the head. “Yeah, but my daughter insists on rescues. My station has always had a dog. Helps with outreach and kids love them. Had a photo booth once and the station dog, Smokey, earned three times more than any man or woman working it.” Mort nodded at the dog. “And sometimes, when we’re away from home, a dog around here lightens the load. I wasn’t quite ready for a deaf Dalmatian-slash-horse like this one. You know? In your head, it’s all those great pictures of the dog posed beautifully on a fire engine. In real life, it’s...” He motioned at Dottie, who was gnawing on a corner of his desk. “It’s a lot less regal in real life.”