In the Dog House

by Traci Hall

  “Good point. When do we need to have the tent down?” Jackson asked.

  Emma smoothed the tip of her auburn braid—Jackson liked it when she wore her hair loose, though she didn’t do it often. “We can tear down the booth after the parade at four. Then maybe take the dogs back? Pepita is going to sit with them at home during the fireworks tonight. You can leave Bandit with her, too, if you want, but he was fine with the loud noises last year. He, of course, aced his AKC tests.” She reached down, gently tugging on Bandit’s ears.

  Bandit was fun for Matty to have around. Oh hell, he admitted. The dog was a good companion. “We’ll see.” The truth was that Bandit, even by just sleeping in the same room, offered another heartbeat, another live being, to combat the war that waged in his mind. With each passing night, he got more actual rest.

  Over the past week, he’d increased his sleep to four solid hours before Bandit jumped on the bed and pawed his shoulder. Might not seem like much, but a week’s worth of four hours a night of nightmare-free z’s made him feel like a new man.

  He understood how it worked—the body resisted sleep because it knew what the mind was getting up to—memories that were to be avoided at all costs. So, instead of getting relaxed and sleepy, his body tensed and subconsciously prepared for the worst.

  The more he trusted that Bandit would wake him before things got too bad, the more he’d trust himself to sleep. The dog intuitively knew.

  He wasn’t sure how to explain it to Dr. Smith to make it sound like science, so he didn’t bother. Jackson checked his watch. Two in the afternoon. “It’s good that Matty’s catching some shuteye. He’ll enjoy the fireworks. Can’t believe he can be comfortable all twisted up like a pretzel.”

  Emma reached her hand out to him from her plastic chair. “Sit, Jackson, it’s okay.”

  But he couldn’t be still. He was used to acting without spending so much time in his own head. “I’m gonna take a walk. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  However, no matter how many times he paced the park, Jackson couldn’t outwalk his stupid words to Emma—telling her that he had to let her go. He felt no better equipped now than he’d been ten years ago to be the man she deserved. She deserved kids and a family. She deserved a husband who was her equal.

  She deserved marriage, but by offering that, he would take her away from the life she’d built here. Not in any position to make promises, Jackson didn’t want to let her down, yet he couldn’t stay away. How was that for a cluster?

  …

  Jackson strode into the crowd, probably to walk off some of the apprehension he had to be feeling about Livvie. There would be a risk involved in taking her out of the coma, and that had to be worrisome.

  He cared about his family. Emma knew he cared for her, in his own way. He was a good man—a worthy man who had told her that he would let her go; he’d done it once before so she knew it to be true.

  Matty, awake, brought Romeo to the front of the booth and encouraged people to interact with the dog; they both loved the attention.

  Emma got up from the plastic chair and stepped over Bandit to refill the stack of brochures. Was there any way to make Jackson see that she was worth fighting for?

  As if thinking of Jackson had conjured him, he was suddenly right behind her, and he slid his hand down her lower back. “You all right?”

  “Yes, Jackson.” She laughed softly. “You don’t have to take care of me.”

  “Sorry.”

  She tilted her head with a teasing smile. “I don’t think you can help it.”

  “Do you mind, so much?” His fingers caressed her wrist.

  “No.” She glided her hand along his and then stepped away before she foolishly kissed him in front of everybody. “But I should.”

  She covered her heart with a glossy brochure as if the paper were armor.

  Jackson looked at the front toward Matty, who chatted easily with an older man about Romeo and golden retrievers, and back to her. The intensity in his gaze made her think of hot nights under a starry sky, the two of them entwined.

  Emma steered the subject to safer waters. “So, it seems that our Cinnamon has found a family.”

  “You’ve helped three dogs find homes in the last two weeks.” Jackson brought his arms to his sides. “Is that a normal turnaround?”

  She noted that he didn’t include Bandit in his count. “It ebbs and flows. You can’t predict how many dogs will come into the shelter that will be a good fit for Heart to Heart. Training varies—King took a while longer, while Romeo zoomed through. I was hoping Sawyer would stop by today, so you two could meet.”

  “Why?” Jackson asked warily.

  “He’s the one who helped me with Bandit,” Emma said. “If I had some open spaces, I’m sure he could find me qualified dogs from shelters all over. Right now, though, I’ve been forced to keep under ten dogs at my kennel.”

  “Emma, I’ve watched you,” Jackson said. “You say you prefer pets to people and I admit that folks can be”—he glanced at Matthew, now talking to a bald guy eating a hotdog—and said, “difficult.”

  She bit her lower lip to keep from laughing.

  “But you are good with everybody. You were even nice to that jerk earlier. You have a talent with matchmaking. There’s no reason you can’t incorporate both into your practice. Maybe you see people a couple days a week. Maybe you only see kids with autism, or folks with anxiety. You can choose.”

  Emma ran her finger along the crisp folded edge of the glossy brochure. Heart to Heart Kennel. It’s where her heart was… Could she create a practice where she worked only a few days a week with people?

  The idea was foreign to her. “That’s not how it’s done, Jackson. I mean, tell me about your Dr. Smith’s office. Pretty fancy, right? I don’t work like that.”

  The doctorate program was solid lines and boundaries. People telling her what was and wasn’t acceptable.

  The rules stifled her, and it came as a surprise to realize that those boundaries were an issue—maybe the number one issue.

  Emma dropped the brochure to the table, looking out at the people walking by. Many were dressed in something red, white, and blue. Patriotic. She reached for Jackson’s hand, running her thumb along the hard ridge of his knuckle.

  “I went into psychology because I thought I could help people like my mom, who refused to step outside the house…she was so afraid of what might happen that she taught me to be afraid of the mailman, the grocery delivery guy, the park across the street.” Emma braced against the avalanche of negative memories. “You know all that already.”

  Jackson brought her fingers to his lips and kissed the back of her hand. “You are the bravest woman I know. You could have let your childhood cripple you, but instead you took all that pain and figured out a way to help others.”

  Her brow lifted. “Brave?” She shook her head. “Determined, maybe.”

  Jackson propped his hip against the table and crossed his arms. “I believe that you will find your own path. If anybody can do it, it’s you. I’ve always believed that.”

  Was there another way? A third option that suited her temperament and ideals?

  “Thanks, Jackson.” His unwavering support gave her a boost of added confidence she needed after being called on Professor Collard’s carpet. “I’ll figure it out.”

  He held up his palms. “Sorry if I pushed. You seem like you’ve got it all together.” He winked. “You’re pretty, too.”

  Her cheeks heated in a rush as she recalled his hand on her hip, the way he savored her kiss and made her feel beautiful.

  “Uncle Jackson,” Matthew groused, walking to the table with Bandit for a few brochures to hand to the people passing by. “Lame.”

  “What?” Jackson’s brows lifted in question as he looked from his nephew to her and back.

  “Emma doesn’t want a boyfriend.” Matty smacked the brochures against his open palm. “No time.”

  Emma laughed with surprise.
r />   “And you know this, how?” Jackson teased.

  “We talked about it,” Matthew said. “I told her that I’d take her to the movies if she wanted to see one, but she has to buy the popcorn.”

  “Oh.” Jackson’s laughing green eyes speared her. “So my nephew already staked his claim.”

  Emma giggled, the sound unexpected and freeing.

  “Emma?”

  She turned to Aunt Pepita, who barreled through the crowd, her striped kerchief over her orange hair a beacon.

  “I’m here,” her aunt quipped, her lips slashed with cherry red lipstick. “Sorry to be late.”

  “No worries. Where’s Ernie?”

  Her aunt’s chin trembled. “We broke up.”

  “Oh.” Emma pulled her into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

  Pep stepped free and blinked the dampness from her eyes. “I’ll miss the way he dances, but any man who has a wandering eye is not the man for me. Margaret can have him, the old biddy.”

  All Emma could think about was the bliss on her aunt’s face the other night, the look that made Emma wish for something more. And now it was just gone? What chance did that give her feelings for Jackson?

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Emma watched her aunt’s face closely.

  “Better to have danced and lost, my dear,” Pep said.

  “There’s always Harold.” She patted her aunt’s plump shoulder.

  Pepita shook her head. “We’re just friends, and that is fine with me.”

  “How’d you get here?”

  “I called a cab.” Pep fixed a button on her coveralls, the white stripe in her American flag earrings flashing in the sun.

  Pepita’s independence was something Emma had always admired. No hiding from the world for her. “Thank you for coming anyway.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” Pep gave the rest of the dogs a pat and received hugs from Jackson and Matthew. “So, which dogs are celebrating the fireworks with me at home tonight?”

  “Watch the fireworks with us downtown, Aunt Pepita.”

  “No, Emma. I plan on having champagne and curling up on the couch with the fur babies and a new novel. No better medicine for a broken heart.” She huffed. “Not that mine was broken. I was swept away by romance. Ernie sure could dance.”

  Once the parade was over, Emma and Jackson, with Matthew and Pepita’s help, started to dismantle the booth—taking it down always took longer than setting things up.

  Pepita drove the SUV and dogs to the rancher after a promise from Emma not to come back early, because she didn’t need a babysitter. They slid the dismantled canopy into the rear bed of Jackson’s truck. What a day of highs and lows. If only Jackson wasn’t leaving, then she wouldn’t hold back on her feelings for him. I wouldn’t trade today for the world.

  “You guys want fish and chips?” Emma asked, digging hand sanitizer from her purse and offering it around. “My treat.”

  “I’m hungry,” Matthew said.

  “Now why am I not surprised?” Jackson reached for Matthew’s hair, and Matthew ducked out of the way with a laugh.

  Bandit stayed with the three of them as they ate their dinner on the pier. Emma bit into the crispy white halibut, watching the reflection of early fireworks over the bay—folks who couldn’t wait for the big show at nine.

  Deep pinks and vibrant oranges splayed across the darkening sky as the sun set behind the mountains, casting a rosy net over the blue water. Emma took it all in before zeroing her focus on Jackson, the shadow along his jawline, the fullness of his mouth, and shifted on her bench.

  “Thank you for today. I couldn’t have done it without you.” She thought of the pups she’d trained and cared for and the jobs they’d perform for their new owners with a pang of happy sorrow. She broke off another piece of fish and swiped it through the malt vinegar. “King and Cinnamon both found new homes!”

  Matthew dipped his fries into some tartar sauce and popped them in his mouth. “We need to get more dogs, Emma.”

  “We do.” She nudged Jackson’s arm—he sat so close on the bench that their thighs touched, that she could smell his aftershave.

  Matthew’s sneaker kicked at the metal table leg. “Emma, did Uncle Jackson tell you about Mom getting better?”

  “He did! You must be so excited.” She was so happy for them.

  “I wish it was tomorrow already. I mean, the fireworks are going to be cool, but this is worse than Christmas Eve, waiting for presents in the morning.”

  “I know what you mean,” she said, impressed with his analogy.

  “Uncle Jackson said if Mom wakes up, we’re going to sneak her in a flower. She likes them.”

  Emma glanced at Jackson, who explained, “ICU rules. No flowers.”

  “Got it.” She rested her forearm on the table. “I say it’s worth the risk.” Emma smiled, just imagining how wonderful their reunion might be.

  Matthew grinned and “accidentally” dropped a fry toward Bandit. The dog wasn’t picky and snapped it up.

  After their dinner, they spread a blanket on the beach and listened to the band play top forty covers. Jackson bought them all huckleberry iced tea and sugared almonds. She and Jackson hummed along to the songs. “Want to dance?” Jackson asked, his tone low, his gaze on her legs stretched out in front of her.

  “No, thanks,” Emma said quickly. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

  “Two left feet, don’t you remember?” Matthew jumped up and shook his backside before taking off to run toward the seawall and startling the gulls.

  “The kid pays attention,” Jackson said with approval. He scooted over to sit behind her and lightly massage her neck. “I remember our first dance and how you felt in my arms. You smelled like strawberry lip gloss, and I was so nervous that I kept wiping my palms on my jeans because I didn’t want you to know my hands were sweaty.”

  She chuckled, remembering how nervous she’d also been. His touch traveled down her body like a rush of wildfire, hopping from one sensitive nerve to the next, and she leaned in to him. Jackson pressed a light kiss to her neck, and she shivered.

  Bandit and Matthew raced back and plopped on the blanket, interrupting the tender moment. With reluctance, Emma straightened and took a sip of tea to quench her thirst—it didn’t work. She had a feeling the only thing to satisfy her would be more of Jackson. “What do you have there?”

  “Bandit found a Frisbee,” Matthew said, tugging on one end while Bandit had the other.

  And then the dog and boy were off again, leaving Emma and Jackson alone on the blanket. They each sat cross-legged, facing one another.

  “Why did you warn me that you have to let me go?” She stared into his eyes, not letting him off the hook.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Em.” He leaned across the few inches between them to lift her braid and nuzzle her collarbone. His mouth created goosebumps on her skin. “I can’t stay away.” He nipped, creating a wave of sensation. “I can’t be in Kingston and not see you. Fair warning.”

  Her body thrilled at his words and his actions. She was glad that she wasn’t the only one to feel so out of control. “Well, I can’t stay away from you, either.” She turned to rest against his chest, and he stretched his legs alongside of hers.

  Jackson smoothed her braid down her back, sighing with pleasure. “Mom used to say that home was where the heart is—I think to find a way to make moving all the time okay. But I understand why you’ve built your own community here.”

  Emma curved her palm on Jackson’s knee, needing to be connected by touch. And since kissing on the blanket in front of everyone wasn’t a good idea, she’d sit close and whisper sweet talk. Would they spend the next few weeks together, and damn the consequences? “Jackson, I’ve missed you.” There’d never been anyone else she’d connected with like him.

  “I’ll tell you a secret,” he said in her ear. “You are the woman I dream about, when things are quiet and I’m looking up at the stars. It’s you, on our place at the beach,
snuggled together under a blanket.”

  Her heart cracked at his admission. “Why?” Why hadn’t he told her that before now?

  He wouldn’t let her turn around to look at him as he finished his confession. “I knew that I’d hurt you that day, and I never forgave myself for it. I promised that I would be the best soldier I could be, to make the sacrifice worthwhile.”

  It was a good thing that she was sitting down already, because his words took all strength from her body and left her speechless. Vulnerable.

  Tears spilled over and splashed on his hand. “Em?”

  His eagle tattoo flexed as he shifted and tightened his arm around her, but she hid her face. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this?”

  He scooted backward and came around to face her, on his knees, sitting back on his heels. “It wouldn’t have changed anything, don’t you understand? But I never stopped loving you.”

  He tilted his head so that their mouths were inches apart, his eyes staring deep into hers as if demanding that she see his feelings for her—and she did. It made her head swim, and she clasped his shoulder to steady herself. The shield around her heart buffeted in the storm of her emotions.

  “I’ve never met anyone like you.” He feathered his lips across hers, and Emma sighed at the longed-for contact of his mouth. They kissed, and she didn’t care who watched in the crowd. She reveled in the rightness of it, ignoring the wrong.

  “Just being here with you eases something in me.” He tucked her close.

  As if by silent agreement, they watched the world from their blanket, content to be together for this moment with no expectations.

  As the sunset faded to dusk and then into night, the white caps of the Cascades glowed in the moonlight. By nine, the music stopped, and the fireworks were set to begin. Jackson made sure they sat hip to hip. Her body hummed at the heat of his thigh next to hers, the touch of his pinky finger skimming her hand.

  Casual. Electric. God, how she craved more.

  Fireworks sparked before them, and she jumped back, her hand to her throat as she laughed nervously. Bandit and Matthew raced over to the blanket, Bandit dropping the slobbery Frisbee in her lap.