“A pretty rescue for community outreach.” Reyna smiled. “That’s a great human interest story. You’ve got Pulaski working with the dog?”
“Kid’s only been here two days. You might cut him some slack,” the chief drawled. “Crew’s pretty full up as it is, Montero. Although...”
Reyna did her best to ignore the deflation she experienced.
It was time to move on to the next station.
“Thank you for your time, sir.” Reyna stood. “I can get you the name of a good dog trainer or obedience class if you’d like.” She paused to stare into Dottie’s beautiful eyes and then scratched under her chin. “Those little kids are going to love you, girl.”
She could elbow her way into Sean’s service animal project. More time with dogs could be good for her.
The chief said, “Well, now, Montero, it’s real interesting you stopped in today. Did you know Pulaski’s dad was a firefighter, too? And the kid just got out of the army. You two have that in common, even if he doesn’t have your service record.” He leaned forward. “I knew his dad. Good man. Snapping his kid up from the academy was a priority of mine.” He didn’t smile, but Reyna understood he was enjoying himself. “I have one more slot I want to fill, though. My brother, he lobbied hard for his hotshot. He also said you have some trouble with people. That true, Montero?”
Reyna raised her chin. “No, sir. I’m good with people.” He would believe it if she said it confidently enough. She’d learned that lesson early on.
“Say you were offered a probationary start, Montero. Six months training. Would you take it?” The captain stood.
Reyna immediately nodded. “Yes, sir. I would. I have considered the highest and best use of my time, and I want to serve as a member of the Miami Fire Department and Sawgrass Station.” She waited tensely for his reaction.
“Highest.” He whistled. “And best. Well, it ain’t every day I find someone talking like that.” He propped his hands on his hips. “Good news, Montero. You’re hired.”
Reyna swallowed the victory shout bubbling below the surface and offered him her hand. “Thank you, Chief. You will not regret this.”
He shook her hand, then grimaced. “No, I won’t, but you might. Dottie belongs to the newest member of the team. Today, that’s you.”
Reyna looked down at the dog, who’d returned to evaluating the corner of the chief’s desk with her teeth. Mort brushed her away. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”
Reyna shook her head no while she considered explaining that she knew nothing about dogs, her townhome didn’t allow them, and her father would be incensed if and when he found out about the job and the dog policy she’d flagrantly broken.
But this was her chance, the key to making her plan for her life and Concord Court work.
He clapped his hands. Dottie didn’t react, but her tail was wagging wildly as if she knew something had changed. “Take her home. Teach her some manners. I’ll get you on a schedule. Soon as we can, we’ll start sending you and Pulaski out to deliver fire safety talks at the schools.” He shook his head immediately. “No complaints, please. It’s part of the job. It’ll be yours until the next rooks come in. That’s how we do.”
Reyna tipped her chin up. “Thank you, sir. I look forward to serving.”
He grunted and pointed at the door. “Get Dottie’s leash and food from Pulaski. Make the kid carry it all out to your car. If he complains, let me know. Dottie loves him, too. He might be back on the hook.”
He patted the dog as they left his office. Pulaski was hovering near the door. “Well?”
Reyna wanted to gloat.
But she was about to take home a Dalmatian Dane.
Who was really winning?
She didn’t have anything to celebrate yet.
“Dottie’s coming with me. Since you can’t train her, Chief wants me to give it a shot so we can head out to the schools when they start back up.” There. That sounded almost like he’d been demoted when she was hired.
Pulaski’s slow grin convinced her he wasn’t falling for it.
He held out her leash. “Here you go. I’ll meet you at your car with her food. Can’t think of a better person for the job, Montero.”
Reyna held her head high as she remembered to pull rather than push the door open from inside. Dottie was loaded into the front seat of her SUV by the time Pulaski brought out her food. And then Reyna was headed back home.
With the job she’d wanted.
And a dog.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE HEAT WAS always what managed to bring Sean out of the nightmares. Stifling under the sheets wrapped tightly around him, Sean kicked one leg out. Air-conditioning automatically chilled that skin, but the rest of him burned. That feeling, the certainty that he’d never be cool again, always took time to fade.
Sean wiped the sweat off his forehead and stared up at the ceiling. No matter how often he did this and no matter how many successful nights of sleep fell in between, he was always shocked at how clear the memory of the explosion outside of Kabul remained.
Time was supposed to soften the hard edges, but orange flames against black night remained stark in his dreams.
The shrill hum of noise that had replaced his normal hearing for what seemed like forever after the explosion faded almost as quickly as he opened his eyes, but the prickle of burning skin across his cheeks and nose was harder to chase away.
He reached down to pet Bo, but the dog had gone to his new home.
Sean should have anticipated the nightmares because of that. They came like clockwork on the first night after his dogs moved to their new homes. That was a side effect of this fostering plan that he needed to warn his volunteers about.
The walls closed around Sean, and he struggled to the side of the bed. There was no way to sleep. Getting up was the only way to survive.
When he stood, air ghosted over his skin, so he changed into a dry T-shirt and shorts. Then he paused at the doorway. He needed to get out, but the pool group had disbanded hours ago. Didn’t matter. He couldn’t stay here.
Television. It might distract him. If Bo were here, he could lie on the couch, a loose collection of bones and fuzzy ears stretched out beside him. Sean wouldn’t sleep, but the night would pass.
But without Bo...
Sean ran his hands through his wet air and forced himself to focus. He was fine. There was no danger. Eventually his heart rate would slow down to normal, and the panic would recede. He could wait this out.
Therapy had taught him to try focusing on his body in that moment. Sean inhaled slowly and pressed his feet firmly into the ground, feeling the connection. The air was cool. The silence was so complete it had its own texture. He was thirsty but not hungry.
And every second, he was coming back to himself.
Sean bent to pick up the remote control but tossed it back down.
Walking around the apartment complex was a terrible solution, but he could tell himself he was moving, doing something, and hope it was true.
Sean was reaching for his running shoes when he heard Reyna say outside his door, “It’s time to do your business.”
Sean frowned at the door while he tried to decipher what kind of message his subconscious could be sending him, using those words and making him think Reyna had spoken them.
Then she added, “Please, Dottie, do not make me call the emergency vet tonight.”
There was no possible hidden message there, Sean decided, so he pulled open his door. Reyna and an oversize Dalmatian were standing on the grassy area in front of their townhomes. “Am I hallucinating?” Sean asked. “That’s a new side effect of PTSD. Usually it’s nightmares.” He sat down on his top step and caught the dog, who’d launched herself at him. “Nope. Dottie is all real.” He glanced up at Reyna. “You’re real, too, right?”
Reyna groaned and dropped down to sit beside him. “I had hoped I was in a nightmare, but if you’re here, this must be real.” She closed her eyes. “Did we wake you up?”
“No.” Sean scratched the dog behind her ears. “Were you trying to?”
He expected an immediate argument. Instead, Reyna answered, “No. Maybe.” Then she kicked out one leg, her bright white tennis shoes gleaming in the moonlight. “Probably. I knocked on your door this afternoon to beg for help, but you didn’t answer.”
She’d come to ask him for help. Suddenly, his mood lifted. Nightmares had broken him, but this woman, one of the most impressive people he’d ever met, had come to him for help. The knotted muscles across his shoulders eased.
Sean watched the dog sniff around the bottom of the steps, prepared to move his feet quickly out of the way if she took aim. “Bo went home today. I had to drive him over to meet his vet, and we worked through some of his concerns. It took longer than I thought it would.”
They both watched the dog, who had decided that rolling in the grass was the perfect way to celebrate being awake at three in the morning.
“You gonna tell me the story?” Sean drawled. Whatever he’d imagined might help him outrun his memories, this would never have made the list. And if he’d dreamed it up, he’d never have guessed the relief or comfort or peace or whatever this emotion could be called would roll over him this way.
“I got the job today, starting with lots of on-the-job training and serving as part of Sawgrass Station’s community outreach, but only if I can manage to teach Dottie here some manners.” Reyna tipped her head back. “I’ve never had a dog, much less a dog who can’t hear me desperately calling her name or one the size of a small pony, and I have no idea what I’m doing. All afternoon, I studied training articles and tips, but she’s...” Reyna waved her hand at the dog, who’d stopped wiggling, all four feet up in the air. “Is there something wrong with her?”
Sean sighed. “Hard to say. Right now, I’d say she’s afflicted with typical puppy syndrome. How old is she?”
“I’m not sure. She was a rescue.” Reyna touched the dog with her foot. Dottie immediately sprang up to come over. The dog licked her chin and Reyna let out a watery sigh. “She ate my mail. Is she going to die?”
Sean blinked. “From eating paper? I don’t think so. I once had a dog who pulled books off a shelf and destroyed the covers. Although that was more ripping than eating.” The dog had moved on to eat part of the lowest shelf, but telling Reyna that Dottie could be chewing on literal wood next wasn’t a good idea.
“Yeah. That’s what happened all over my living room. I made one phone call to find her an obedience class and came back to Mailmageddon. It snowed little wet chunks of paper all over my sofa.” Reyna rested her cheek on Dottie’s head and stared up at him. “Is this how it’s supposed to happen?”
“What?” Sean asked as he held out his hand to the dog. She sniffed delicately and inched closer to him.
“Falling in love.” Her eyes were steady on his. There was no way Sean could look away. “I’ve known her less than a day and I think I might die if something happens to her.”
That was something he understood. Dogs brought it out in him, too.
What was less clear was what was happening the closer he got to Reyna.
Her hair was a mess, rumpled and sticking up. She was dressed a lot like he was, in shorts and a T-shirt.
But it was impossible to look away from her. The worry in her eyes, the glimmer of tears... He had to do something.
“Stay here.” Sean stood. Dottie’s head lifted as she tracked him. “And take away whatever that is hanging out of her mouth. I’ll be right back.”
Sean trotted to his refrigerator and yanked open the door. At some point, he would love to be able to prove his worth to Reyna Montero in a spectacular way.
Tonight, he’d have to use leftover hot dogs. He cut a couple into tiny pieces and scooped them into a plastic bag. He grabbed two bottles of water and closed the fridge with his hip. As he turned to hurry back outside, he realized a big goofy grin had taken over his face.
He inhaled slowly, relieved to have found the key to making it through another night. Then he realized that key was Reyna Montero, world’s worst disco dancer and owner of the most beautiful smile.
Sean waited for the panic to return. This...joy at sitting outside his apartment with a woman and a dog... It had to mean something scary, didn’t it?
He walked slowly back out to rejoin them because he couldn’t change it, whatever it meant.
“It was my shoestring,” Reyna said when he sat next to her. “She chewed through my shoestring while I was wearing the shoes.”
Sean laughed. It felt good. Reyna’s tone wavered beyond despair and disbelief, but the giggles that trickled out were cute.
Reyna Montero? Cute?
“Don’t look now but she’s got her leash in her mouth,” Sean said and offered Reyna the bag of treats. “Let’s distract her.”
“Right. If she chews through her leash and gets away, I’ll never catch her. She’s fast when she’s on a tear in my living room.” Reyna held up the plastic bag. “Do I want to know what this is?”
“That is the key to success with a dog. Any dog. All dogs.” Sean picked up the bag and waited for Dottie to turn his direction. Training a deaf dog might take creativity but it couldn’t be that different. When the dog came closer, Sean took out one of the tidbits and offered it to her. “Food. Give any dog food early and often when you start training. Life gets so much easier for you, and the dog loves it. Eventually they learn to keep their eyes on you and do what you want them to.”
Dottie delicately took her treat, and Reyna giggled again at the way Dottie immediately locked eyes on the treat bag.
“You try it.” Sean braced his elbows on his knees. “Give her a couple so she knows you’ve got the good stuff.”
“I read a dozen different websites about training puppies this afternoon, between cleaning up messes. Can it be that simple?” Reyna followed his directions, Dottie inching ever closer until her chest bumped Reyna’s knees.
“Okay, now...” Sean thought for a second. “We should train her to watch you for commands.”
“Holding out my hand to get her to sit was suggested on one of the articles I read this afternoon.” Reyna held her hand out over the dog. Dottie was already sitting so it was hard to judge the effectiveness.
“Do the hand signal with the verbal command, and follow with a treat. Right now, that treat is the critical piece.” Normally, he’d be itching to take over, but everything Reyna did fascinated him.
“Say the command even though she can’t hear me?” Reyna asked.
Sean shrugged. “That part’s more for you than her, but I don’t think it can hurt to reinforce the command. She’ll be watching your face, too.”
Watching her was pretty fascinating all on its own.
“Sit, Dottie.” Reyna held out her hand and then gave the dog a treat. “You think this will work?”
“I’m certain. As long as the hot dog holds out, Dottie will do her best to please you.” Sean tipped his head to the side. “Work on sitting, but you should also work on ‘watch me.’ Since Dottie can’t hear you, she needs to watch you for commands.”
Reyna considered that. Then she pointed at her eye. “Watch me, Dottie.” The dog accepted her hot dog and wagged her tail.
“When you go inside, practice in the new surroundings. You can also teach her that a wave and ‘okay’ means she’s free.” Sean straightened. He’d done what he needed to do. Spending any more time out here with the two of them was only going to drag him deeper into this fascination with Reyna.
“I’m keeping you up. I’m sorry.” Reyna squeezed his arm and Sean felt the tingle zip across his skin. “I knew you would be able to help. Thank you.”
He studied her face. A weak breeze ruffled the hair around her face, which was pale in the moonlight. Beautiful.
“Thank you for chasing away the nightmare.” He should stand.
He’d let them go inside first. He wasn’t going to get any sleep, anyway.
“Want to tell me about it?” Reyna tugged the leash Dottie had in her mouth. “Watch me, Dottie.” The dog wasn’t sure what Reyna was asking but she understood hot dogs, so she spit the leash out and accepted her treat.
Their chuckles floated on the breeze. The three of them might be the only creatures on the whole planet. It was peaceful. That made it easier to tell her.
“It’s a memory. A night operation in Kabul.” Sean rolled his head on his shoulders, the tension there hard to shake. “Insurgents had taken over an elementary school, so we were sent in to clear it, remove the hostages.” No one ever expected them to bring enemy combatants peacefully in, but that had been their directive. Keep casualties low, but do what it took to eliminate the threat. The plan had been scheduled at night because it gave them some cover, so they’d moved in and waited for the order to approach. “Part of my team had cleared the outer doors when the building exploded.”
Reyna reached over to grasp his hand. Her warmth took some of the pain.
“I was thrown back by the blast, but never in much danger. I remember the way the flames burned against the dark sky, the horrible ringing in my ears, and the horror that we’d lost some of our team and however many kids were inside.”
Reyna didn’t speak, but her grip tightened.
“Eventually we found out the whole group, even the hostages, had been relocated the night before, so it was a trap to take out US marines.” Sean traced his thumb across the back of Reyna’s hand.
“My hearing came back, but my nerve never did. Soon as my chance to come home arrived, I grabbed it and returned to safe ol’ Georgia.” Sean watched Dottie nose the treat bag. This dog would get Reyna straightened out. “Anyway, that’s my story. I joined because my father did, and everyone told these great stories about him. I never met him, but I wanted to be like him. Guess we can’t all be heroes.”
The Dalmatian Dilemma Page 12