by Sasha Goldie
It might be time for a change.
8
Carson
Blinking sleepily, I sucked more coffee out of the disposable paper cup and wondered how in the world I was up so early, again. But when I pulled my truck into Ian's shop parking lot and saw Max standing with two coffees in his hand, I perked up a little. He'd remembered my coffee addiction. Draining my cup, I crumpled it and threw it behind the seat. I'd clean it up later. Eventually. Ugh, I had to stop being such a slob.
Max climbed in and handed one of the cups off. "I went to Daisy's," he said by way of greeting.
"You're an angel," I whispered.
"Thanks," he said with a laugh.
I shot him a sarcastic look. "I was talking to the coffee."
He laughed harder. "It's nice to know where I rate."
"Sorry, but everyone rates below coffee." I pulled out of the parking lot and headed south, toward the animal shelter.
"I had fun yesterday," he said after sipping his own drink. "It was nice catching up."
"Me, too." Our dinner had gone well. The food turned out perfect, even to me, and I was usually one of those people that insisted it tasted horrible even if everyone else said it was good. Which was part of the reason I rarely cooked.
After dinner, we hadn't had much time. We had to open the brewery. It opened late on Sundays, but I was glad I'd chosen a day we weren't off. It gave us both an escape, in case things had gotten awkward.
Luckily, things hadn't gotten awkward, and before we knew it, we had to run to work. Before we left, though, Max cornered me and made me promise we could go volunteer at the animal shelter. I'd tried to give a vague response, but he kept on until I promised to pick him up the next day, this morning, at an ungodly hour.
"Thanks for taking me to do this," he said, and all my regrets and complaints about the early hour disappeared.
"My pleasure."
The shelter was just opening for the day as we parked, the only paid worker arriving not long before we did. We signed in, and Max had to give his driver's license before we were allowed access to the dogs.
"Unless someone else pops in, you're the only volunteers today. If you could start by taking the dogs for a walk and spraying out their cages?" Pam, the shelter employee, smiled and handed Max his ID.
We agreed readily and headed to the back. The dogs went nuts when we walked in. “Whew,” I muttered. “Someone made a big stinky.” I’d done this many times, and it never smelled great when I first started. I raised my voice to give Max a rundown. "The dogs are marked by whether or not they get along with other dogs," I said, showing Max the color-coded chart that helped shelter workers identify what each dog needed.
"Green means go. This dog is good with other animals, children, and is up to date on shots," I said, peering in at the dog inside. "His name is Hugo." I read his stats. "He's an American Bulldog mix and a year old." Hugo wagged his tail so hard it slammed against the concrete walls of his cage, creating a melody with the other tail-banging sounds. The shelter had about ten built-in kennels for larger dogs on one side of the dog room, and the other side was full of tables with cages and crates for smaller dogs.
"Hey, Hugo," Max bent over and stuck his fingers through the cage. Huge licked them happily. "You're going to give yourself happy tail if you don't calm down."
"American bulldogs tend to be high-strung, even late into life," I said. "My grandparents love bulldogs."
I grabbed the leash and prepared to clip it onto Hugo as Max opened the door. "He's pretty well leash trained, though." His info sheet said he was command trained in English and leash trained. He was awfully young to be that obedient.
"Sit," I commanded, looking at Hugo. He sat. "He's more trained than I thought."
After attaching his leash, I handed it to Max. "Take him out that door and let him loose in the left fence. That's the communal dog run. The dogs that can't be socialized with other dogs go to the one on the right one at a time.
He grinned at Hugo and walked him out while I grabbed the hose. Hugo's food bowl went into the big sink, and I rinsed out the kennel, even though he hadn't had any accidents inside. I knew from experience that wouldn't be the case with all the dogs.
Max returned with the leash and we moved on to the next kennel. This pup was red, which meant he wasn't to be around any other animals or children. "Take him out to the right, we'll have to keep him separated from the others. We can give him about thirty minutes out there while we work on the other dogs.” I scanned their cages, and the rest of the bigger dogs were green or yellow. "The rest of them can go out together."
"What does yellow mean?" Max asked as he reached around me to grab the handle on the poor red dog's kennel.
"They aren't good with cats. Blue means not good with children. Red is not good with kids or other animals. Purple is no other animals."
"Is there a chart around here somewhere?" Max said with a laugh.
The dog pushed past him once the leash was on, knocking him into me. His body pressed me into the wall, but I was able to reach out and steady him before he kept falling. His body was heavy and muscular as he leaned against me, and I had to give my libido a stern word to keep it from hardening my dick.
"Sorry," he said, using his arm strength to keep the dog from pulling him anymore. "I lose my balance more easily than I used to." He stood upright with a little help from me, then turned and pulled me away from the wall. "It's a little embarrassing."
"Don't be embarrassed. Most people are easily clumsier than you are with two good legs."
He gave me a grateful smile and took the dog out.
Once we had all the big dogs outside, we hosed out the cages, then let the puppers run around out there while we cleaned their food bowls and refilled them. Every time we neared each other, I tried to find a reason to brush against Max or touch his arm or back.
I'd promised myself I wouldn't become too attracted, not while he worked for me, but that was really going out the window.
I watched him outside, throwing a ball and rope for the big dogs to play with and couldn't help but admire his physique. He was the full package.
Not only was he intelligent and kind, based on what he'd told me last night about his injury and recovery, but he was also probably one of the strongest people I'd ever met, on the inside and outside. No way I was letting him walk away without trying to convince him he should give dating me a shot. I just needed to be subtle about it. I wasn't picking up vibes from him that he was interested in being more than friends.
Max was spending more time with Hugo than the other dogs, not that I could blame him. As I dried the last food bowl, I laughed at him playing tug-of-war with Hugo, then all the other dogs trying to get involved. I thought I was going to have to rescue Max from a puppy pile when he emerged and threw the rope so they all went for it. All but Hugo. He stuck beside Max, staring up at him with puppy-love in his eyes.
Damn. That was hard to watch. I wanted to take them all home with us.
I left him out there with them while I filled the food bowls and water. "Okay," I called when I was done. "Bring the meanie back first, then we'll bring in the rest."
As he brought the first dog in, he wagged his finger at me. "He's not a meanie," he said. "I played with him for a while out there. He definitely doesn't like the other dogs, but he was sweet to me."
"Maybe they'll find him a home to himself," I said as I scratched his ears and opened his kennel door. "He needs no brothers and sisters."
"You know where a dog like this would be good?" he said thoughtfully. "A nursing home or assisted living facility."
My jaw dropped. "That's an amazing idea. And would you believe it, I know the facilitator of the only one we have in the county. It's not very big, but the people that work there really care about the residents." While he brought the other dogs in one at a time, checking their collars against their door info to make sure he put the right dog in the right place, I sent an email to my friend. He was a re
gular at the brewery. He never bought any alcohol but said he liked getting out around happy people to help counteract some of the sadness that came along with working at a nursing home. I always gave him tea on the house.
By the time I'd sent the email, Max had all the dogs back in their kennels. I checked the time. "We've been here for two hours. Let's take all the smaller dogs for some outside time, then usually the afternoon volunteers do the same, and once more in the evening. When there aren't any, Pam takes care of it, but she uses volunteer time to catch up on other stuff like paperwork and advertisements."
"Ads?" Max asked as he checked the first dog in the smaller cages. It was a little dachshund.
"Yeah, like posting info about the dogs with cute pictures to make people want to come to adopt." We repeated the process with the smaller dogs, but it took a lot longer because more of them were aggressive toward one another.
"Small dog syndrome," I joked as we played with them one-on-one.
Max wiped the sweat off of his forehead. "It's so hot. I know soon I'll be complaining about the cold, but for now, this is murder."
"We should go hike. It's always cooler in the trees," I said as I threw a small ball for a chihuahua. Max was in one fence and I was in the other, exercising the little hellions.
He perked up at that idea. "I'd love to get into the river. Especially at our old swimming hole. Nobody ever goes up there so I wouldn't have to worry about my leg being stolen."
Who would steal a prosthetic leg? "What do you mean?" I gave him a quizzical look. He couldn't have been serious.
"These things are so expensive. Some of them are more than a luxury car. This one isn't too fancy, but it cost like six times what I paid for that El Camino."
My jaw dropped. "I had no idea."
"Yeah, which is yet another reason I don't like to advertise it." He smiled at me. "Most people don't realize it. But it's one of the first things they tell you. Don't ever take it off and lay it somewhere it could be grabbed."
"Wow. I would've thought it would be shyness that would make you want privacy for swimming."
"Eh," he said with a laugh. "A little. If we were in a place that I didn't know many people, like on vacation, I think I could go to a pool without the leg without it bothering me, as long as people left me alone. Just crutch to the pool and have fun. But I wouldn't take the leg, no way."
"Well, I guess I've learned something new today."
"I did too," he said brightly. "This has been great with the dogs. I don't have many locals on my social media, but I've been taking pictures. I'm going to post them tonight when I get home."
"I'm only on one, I'll look you up and share them. I'm friends with, I'm pretty sure, all the locals."
He laughed and looked at me with a fond expression. "Everyone likes you. They always have. When we were kids, I always wondered why someone like you was hanging out with someone like me."
He was nuts. "What do you mean someone like you?"
"I was a nerd, a scrawny weakling."
I snorted. "We were both nerds, and you certainly filled out. I'm not gonna lie, though, you were pretty gangly there in your teen years."
He burst out laughing. "So were you!"
"See?" I asked. "We aren't so different. Well, we are now. I have two legs and you have abs."
His laughter continued until he snorted. "You don't have abs?"
I looked ruefully down at my stomach. "Well, I do, but I don't know where they're hiding."
9
Max
As we walked out to Carson’s truck, I found myself wishing the day wasn’t ending. He’d take me back to that empty apartment and leave me all in my feels. "It’s a thousand degrees out here," I complained again. "You’d think with how hot it was overseas," I continued, being vague about where I’d been stationed. "This wouldn’t bother me, but it's such a wet heat. Like walking around inside a mouth," I joked.
"That’s hilarious. I’m stealing that line." Carson unlocked the truck. "I don’t have anywhere I have to be. Do you want to go hike up to Broken Peak?"
The thought of spending more time with him was too tempting to pass up. Carson had been flirtatious and touched me every time we neared each other. I kept trying to tell myself he was just a touchy-feely kind of guy. He wasn't actually interested.
"Let's go back and get Droo and our swim stuff," Carson said as he turned onto the road toward town. "Droo loves it up there."
"Perfect."
We chatted along the way, and I ran up to my apartment. Unfortunately, I still hadn't unpacked everything and couldn't find my swim trunks. I'd made it through the bathroom and living room, but all my nonessential clothes were still in boxes in my bedroom.
As I opened the third box, rifling through to find my swim stuff, Carson's voice floated across the apartment. "Max?"
"In here," I called. "I’m lost in boxes."
He walked into the bedroom. "You took so long I got a little worried. The rest of the house looks good. I take it you haven’t made it to this room?"
"No, my boss has been working me to death," I said with a wink, finally spotting my blue checked swim trunks. "Found them!"
I grabbed a towel and a swimming shoe. I considered changing into my trunks at the house, but if for some reason we had to stop along the way, I didn't want my leg exposed. It just wasn't anyone's business what my legs looked like. Besides, I wanted to hike in my boots, and they'd look silly with trunks.
"Just one?" Carson asked, eyeing my water shoe as we walked toward the door.
"Can't take the leg in the water."
He nodded, taking it in his stride, which I appreciated.
Carson didn't take long at his house, and before long we were headed up the mountain with Droo between us in the truck, looking around like he owned the world.
"Does he realize where we're going?" I asked.
"Probably. I try to bring him up here several times each summer. He might recognize the smells."
He parked at a small pull-off spot at the bottom of a trail. "We made this trek so many times, the trail is probably there because of our feet." I studied the entrance to the trail. The tourists were unlikely to spot it on their drives through the mountains. Brush at the base partially hid the entrance.
"We certainly kept it packed down," he said as he put a leash on Droo. I grabbed the backpack with the waters he'd brought, and he grabbed our clothes.
Halfway up the mountain, I was getting a little winded. I hadn't kept up my workout regimen since starting at the brewery, and the cardio from hiking was more than I'd expected. "Has it always been this difficult of a hike?" I asked with a laugh.
Carson was a little more winded than me, and he didn't even reply, just kept trucking. Droo wagged his tail and looked back at us, waiting for us to catch up to where he'd gone as far ahead as his leash would allow.
When my leg started to burn, and the phantom tiredness put an ache in my missing leg, we finally broke through the trees into the clearing.
The swimming hole was just as perfect as I remembered. The river wasn't too wide, but in the center to the right it got pretty deep. An island in the middle to the left gave a perfect spot for lawn chairs and coolers. Someone had added a rope swing at the bank. "Did you do that?" I asked, pointing to the rope as Droo lurched forward, trying to get to the water. Carson pulled him back and let his leash go. He launched himself to the river, bouncing in and swimming back and forth while we laughed at him.
When we'd recovered from Droo's comic entrance, Carson looked around. "No, it's new. It wasn't even here last month when I came. I guess we aren't the only ones that use it. It always seemed that way, though, didn't it?"
"It's so far up here. What was that, an hour hike?" Setting the backpack down on a rock, I opened it and took out a bottle of water, downing half of it. "We earned this water."
My nerves jangled as I contemplated how to change into my trunks. I needed something to hold on to as I got out of my boots. It wasn't easy b
alancing on the fake leg.
A low-hanging branch offered the best solution. Grabbing a towel out of the backpack Carson set beside mine, I hung it on the branch and studied where it would cover me.
Perfect.
I picked up my trunks and shoe and took off my shirt, tucking it safely in the backpack.
"I'll borrow your towel-changing-room when you're done," Carson said with a laugh.
"You got it."
With one hand on the trunk of the tree, I removed my boots, carefully balancing in the rocky dirt. The prosthetic had a cover on it that I could throw in the wash, so I wasn't worried about the dirt. Just the balance.
Getting into the trunks was almost comical. I leaned my bare butt onto the tree, yelping when Droo's barks and splashes distracted me and my balance shifted slightly as I looked up to see what he was after. I almost fell over. The bark of the tree cut into the soft skin on my lower back.
"You okay?" Carson asked, looking at me with one eyebrow raised.
"Bark on my butt," I muttered as I tied the strings to the trunks. "All good now."
The towel covered most of my prosthetic, but this would be the first time letting anyone I knew personally—besides some of the guys from my unit and my medical support team—see it. Millions of people had seen it during my modeling days. Hell, they'd seen pretty much all of me except the little general, but that felt different. They were strangers, and the photographer made every single body he photographed into complete works of art.
I'd felt like the most attractive man in the world. I'd been careful not to let my name get out, and Mike had respected my wishes by always keeping my face at an angle that didn't totally show it. It kept me anonymous.
Taking in a deep breath, I stepped out from behind the towel carefully, no longer having the rubber bottom of my boots to help with my foothold on the uneven ground. I kept my eyes down, watching where I stepped and not Carson's reaction to my leg.