by Sandra Owens
“I thought I’d catch up with my friends today.”
“Mark...” She huffed a breath. “Fine. Do whatever you want, but two weeks from today your butt is on the street, job or no job. I mean it.” And that was all she had to say about it. She was done with taking care of him.
After he left, she took the dogs for a long walk. She’d expected to hear from Jack by now since she had Dakota. When she got back to the house, knowing Jack would be by at some point to pick up his dog, she changed into a yellow sundress. She needed to work in her studio today, but that required ratty clothes, and she wanted to look nice when she saw him.
While she waited to hear from Jack, she glanced at the clock. Her best friend should be up by now. She’d met Rachel Denning in third grade when she’d overheard Tiffney Carlyle making fun of Rachel’s hair. Nichole had pushed Tiffney, Tiffney had pushed back, and the two of them had ended up in the principal’s office. It was Nichole’s one and only physical fight—thankfully—but she and Rachel had ended up best friends, the friendship lasting through high school, college, and adulthood.
“Rach, when are you going to get your skinny butt back home?” she said when Rachel answered her phone. Her friend was in LA, working a stunt double job for a famous actress.
“Nic! I was thinking about you this morning, so I knew you were going to call.”
“Stop it,” Nichole said, and they both laughed because it was something Nichole often said to her. Rachel sometimes knew things, which was just weird and freaked Nichole out while at the same time she thought it was cool.
“Who is he?”
Nichole blinked. “Who is who?”
“The man you want to talk to me about.”
“I swear, you should bottle that magic shit you do. You’d make a fortune.”
Rachel laughed. “If I really had magic, believe me, I would, but nothing magic about it. I just know you.”
“God, I miss you.” No one got her like Rachel did.
“Miss you, too, babe. Talk to me. What’s his name?”
Nichole told her everything about Jack, about Lane pulling another of his stupid stunts—Rachel hated Lane—and about Mark showing up.
“Let’s slide back to Jack,” Rachel said. “First tell me what he looks like so I can imagine him.”
“He’s tall, blond, blue-eyed, and is seriously ripped. He’s a SEAL, and—”
“An honest-to-God freaking SEAL?”
“Yeah. Crazy, huh? But, Rach, he’s the sweetest man I’ve ever met.”
“A keeper?”
“I wish, but he’ll be returning to his team as soon as his shoulder’s healed. I don’t see this being a long-term thing, so I’m just going to have fun with him while it lasts.” Even though he’d hinted that there could maybe be something more than that, and as much as she wanted to believe he wouldn’t forget about her after he left, she just couldn’t. Call it protecting her heart, because...out of sight, out of mind, and all that.
“Uh-oh. I know you. You’re going to fall for him, and then he’s going to break your heart when he leaves.”
“Nope. I’m going into this with my eyes wide open. So, what about you? Meet any hot actors yet?”
“Lots. This town is crawling with hotties, but I avoid them like the plague. Talk about broken hearts, they leave them in their wake. I have had a few dates with a cameraman on the set. Nothing serious, but who knows? I really like him and wouldn’t mind if it turned into something.”
“No! If you fall in love with him, you’ll never come home. Text me a picture of him.”
“Same. Send me one of your sexy SEAL.”
Nichole went to the window when she heard a car engine. “He’s here, so I’m going to go.”
“Love you, babe. And watch your back. I don’t trust Lane not to pull something stupid.”
“Sexy SEAL’s doing a good job of keeping him away, but I will. Love you, too.”
* * *
Jack arrived at Nichole’s, satisfied with his morning’s work. He’d met Deke for breakfast, and his cop friend was going to see what he could find out about Lane Gregory. Deke agreed that Nichole should take out a restraining order, and Jack was going to push her to do that.
She opened the door before he reached it, and all he could think when she stepped outside was how beautiful she was. She was a vision in her yellow dress with her hair loose and curling around her shoulders.
All he knew at that moment was that he had to kiss her. He strode up the steps to the porch, stopped in front of her, and without a word of warning, he slipped his hand around her neck, and pulled her to him. She tasted like sunshine and sin. It was a potent combination. Innocent and naughty at the same time. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get enough of her.
“Well, good morning to you, too,” she said when he released her.
He liked how husky her voice was. “Morning, sweet girl. I assume you didn’t have any more trouble since I didn’t hear from you?”
“You assume correctly.” She pulled the door open, and Rambo bounced out.
When the puppy jumped against his legs, begging for attention, he ignored the little rascal. They walked inside, and as soon as Rambo gave up trying to get noticed, Jack squatted in front of him.
“See, when you behave yourself, good things happen.” He gave Rambo a head scratch, then transferred his attention to his best girl. “And how is Dakota this morning?” He glanced at Rambo as he scratched under Dakota’s chin, her favorite place. “You see how well she behaved, sitting quietly until it was her turn? You should try it sometime.”
He’d missed his dog last night, especially when she hadn’t been there to calm him after his nightmare. He hadn’t realized how much he relied on her to quiet his demons. But she’d served a higher purpose by staying to guard Nichole.
“Today’s one of your studio days?” he asked Nichole as he stood.
“It is, and I have some items to finish that I need to take with me tomorrow.”
“I’ll get out of your hair, then.” Today was an off day, no physical therapy or anything else on his agenda, and he’d planned to ask if she wanted to go out to lunch. He let the question slide since she had work to do.
“By the way, Mark wanted to know if you were serious about taking him shooting.”
“If I said it, I meant it. Is he here?” That would give him something to do.
“No, he’s out catching up with his friends.”
She seemed annoyed by that. “Where’s he staying?”
“With me.” She sighed. “I gave in and said he could stay here for two weeks while he found a job. You’d think he’d get right on that.”
He decided it was best to keep his opinion on her brother to himself. “You up for some Rambo training this evening?”
She smiled as she walked to him. “If it means spending time with you, then yes.” She lifted to her toes and kissed him.
Her taste and scent invaded his senses, leaving nothing but desire in its wake, consuming him. He groaned as he pulled her against him. She dug her fingers into his shoulders when he slid his tongue into her mouth. He briefly considered picking her up and carrying her to her bedroom, but he didn’t want any interruptions of the brother kind.
Last night hadn’t ended the way either one of them wanted. He wasn’t going to let that happen again.
“Why don’t we have Rambo’s training session at my house? I’ll make you dinner after.” He waited for panic to strike at asking her to come to his home. It didn’t. In fact, he wanted to see her there.
She grinned mischievously. “Ah, I get to see where a sexy SEAL lives? You know, you can tell a lot about a person by their stuff.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep, so don’t hide your whips and handcuffs.”
He grinned. “Don’t have any of those, darlin’, but I’m dam
n good at improvising if that’s your kink.”
“I’m not sure I have a kink, but we could have fun finding out.” She dramatically blinked her eyes.
He glanced at his watch. “Is it time to pick you up yet?” He loved how easily she laughed. “No, huh?”
“Anticipation is half the fun.”
“Not sure about that. Instant gratification sounds like a whole lot more fun.”
Laughing again, she punched his arm. “Go on. Get out of here so I can get to work.”
He gave her a sad face. “Fine, I’ll go as soon as you give me a kiss to get me through the day.”
“Poor thing. Come here.”
What was a man to do but obey a lady’s command? When she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and clamped her teeth down on it, he thought he was going to embarrass himself. He might have been this turned on when he was fifteen and Melissa Cummings, his big crush, had let him touch her breasts for about three seconds.
Who was he kidding? Melissa’s breasts had nothing on Nichole Masters’s teeth biting down on him. “Nichole,” he growled.
She smiled against his mouth. “Hmm?”
It wasn’t easy, but he forced himself to back away. “I’m seconds from taking you down to the floor with me, so I’m going to leave.”
“Just wanted to make sure you thought about me today.”
“Mission accomplished. My body pressed against yours is all I’m going to think about.” He told Dakota to come and walked out while he still could.
* * *
Jack decided to make Dakota happy and take her for a ride before he dropped her off at home. After that, he’d go to the grocery store and get something to make Nichole for dinner. Maybe by the time he got there, he’d think of what to make.
When he and Dakota went for their rides, he would explore different roads. He was driving down a country lane he’d never been on. “Pretty out here, huh?”
Dakota glanced at him, then stuck her head back out the window, her silly grin in place. He passed a sign before the words on it registered. At the next driveway he came to, he turned around. “Asheville Service Dogs,” he read aloud to Dakota when he stopped in front of the sign. “Never knew this was here.”
A dog raced across the yard and dropped a ball at a man’s feet. The man noticed Jack’s truck idling at the end of his driveway and waved. Jack lifted his fingers from the steering wheel, returning the wave. He had time to kill, and curious, he drove to the house.
“You’re going to have to stay in the truck,” he told Dakota. She sighed her resignation, then stuck her head back out the window.
As Jack approached the man, he noted a row of kennels behind the house. “Howdy,” he said, holding out his hand. “Jack Daniels.”
“Ron Kitterman.” He glanced at Jack’s truck. “You got a dog you need training?”
“No, Dakota’s already trained. She’s a retired military dog. Not that she’s happy about that, but she was hurt.”
“Looks like you were, too,” Ron said, his gaze on Jack’s arm.
“Yeah, same IED got us both.”
“What can I do for you, Jack Daniels?”
“Nothing really. Dakota and I were out for a ride, and I saw your sign. More curious than anything.”
“You interested in a tour?”
“Sure.”
“First introduce me to your dog.”
He walked with Ron to the passenger window and put his hand on Dakota’s head. “Friend.” She sniffed the hand Ron held out, then her gaze dropped to the dog sitting at his feet, staring back up at her.
“Belgian Malinois, smart dogs,” Ron said.
“They certainly are. I’ve had three working dogs, two shepherds and this one. All good dogs, but Dakota’s the best I’ve ever had.”
“She behave if you let her out?”
“Yeah, but she’s fine in the truck.” His concern was more for Ron’s dog. The setter’s ears were back as it warily watched Dakota, not a friendly gesture.
“You retired?” Ron asked.
“No, just on medical leave for a couple of months.”
“What are you doing to keep busy until you can go back?”
Jack shrugged. “Besides going to therapy three days a week, not much.” And that was starting to get to him. It hadn’t at first, because he was hurting too much to even think of doing anything, but now...he was restless.
“Hmm,” Ron said.
What did that mean?
Ron pointed to the small house. “That’s our office. I have a part-time assistant who keeps up with the paperwork and stuff. Back here are the kennels. We have fifteen dogs we’re working with right now. This is my operation, and I have two full-time trainers and three part-timers on the payroll. We also have volunteers who spend whatever time they can here.”
That caught Jack’s interest. “Doing what?”
“Cleaning kennels, keeping the dogs groomed, playing with them. Things like that.”
“Could you use another volunteer?” It would certainly help keep him from climbing the walls, which he was about ready to do.
“Sure, especially someone like you who has the training to work with dogs.”
“Who are you training them for?” Jack asked.
“Civilians. We specialize in service dogs, you know, for people who are wheelchair bound or can’t do things for themselves.”
“So that’s different from a therapy dog?” A friend of Jack’s who suffered from PTSD had been given a therapy dog. Wade had admitted to Jack that he’d been close to eating his gun when he got the dog, and he credited his dog with saving his life.
Jack got that. He was in a better frame of mind having Dakota with him. She was good company, gave him a reason to get up in the mornings, and calmed him after his nightmares. And she wasn’t even a trained therapy dog.
“Why don’t you come back tomorrow? Spend some time here seeing what we do and if you think you’d like it?”
Jack glanced at Ron. “I have therapy in the afternoon, but I could come in the morning.”
“See you in the morning then, Jack Daniels. We get started at nine.”
“I’ll be here.” He grinned as he walked back to his truck. An afternoon ride had turned into a volunteer job. The only negative was that he’d be leaving Dakota alone more than he liked. Maybe he could eventually bring her with him.
“You’re not going to believe this, my friend,” he said when he got in the truck. On the way home, he told Dakota about his new job. When she looked at him, her grin gone, he sighed. “No reason to be jealous. You’ll always be my number one girl.”
She made a sound that he interpreted as humph in dog speak, then gave him the cold shoulder as she stuck her head back out the window.
“Be that way,” he said, then turned his thoughts to what to feed Nichole for dinner.
Chapter Eleven
“He’s a hundred percent better since I’ve started working with him,” Nichole said at the end of Rambo’s training session. He was even behaving better when she brought him with her to the River Arts District. He still had his puppy moments, but they were fewer and farther between, thankfully.
Jack leaned down and massaged Rambo’s shoulders. “I’d be questioning my training skills if he wasn’t.” He straightened, then glanced at her. “But a hundred percent better still isn’t the dog he can be for you. We’ll get him there.”
She especially liked the we part, meaning that Jack would still be around to help her train Rambo. He seemed different tonight. Happier. He was quick to laugh or make a joke, but there’d always been something lingering in his eyes that had made her think his laughter and joking around was a front for the pain he tried to hide. She didn’t know if it was physical pain or mental or a combination of both, but it had been there from the first day she’d met him until tonig
ht.
“Something’s different about you,” she said. At his raised brow, she lifted her hand to his cheek. “You seem happy.”
He leaned into her palm. “You make me happy.”
“I hope so, but so is something else.”
His eyes glittered like a child’s at Christmas. “I had a great day.” He took her hand. “Come on. I’ll pour you a glass of wine and tell you about it while I make you one of my favorite dinners.”
“Can I help do anything?” She was sitting at the small table in his kitchen. He handed her a glass of wine, then twisted the cap off a bottle of beer for himself.
“Nope. You just sit there and look pretty while keeping me company. I did all the prep this afternoon. You like Mexican, I hope.”
“Who doesn’t? Although if we’re having Mexican, I think I’d rather have a beer.” She pushed her untouched wine aside.
“My kind of woman.” He popped the cap off another bottle and brought it to her. “Trade you for a kiss.”
“Seems fair.”
He set the beer on the table, curled his fingers around her hair and tugged her head back, then covered her mouth with his. As he kissed her, his hand drifted to the curve of her breast, and he lazily drew circles with his thumb. Even with the barrier of her T-shirt, his touch sent shivers flowing through her.
“How important is dinner to you?” she said somewhat breathlessly when he let her up for air.
“Oh, no you don’t. I’m romancing you by way of feeding you my best meal. No dirty stuff is happening until after I’ve impressed you.” He brushed his thumb over her nipple, sending more quivers through her, then winked as he stepped away. “And then all bets are off.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “Can we eat fast then?”
He waggled a finger at her. “Nichole, you need to learn patience. Good things come to those who wait.”
“Says who?”
“Hell if I know.”
God, she loved that mischievous glint in his eyes. She bet he’d been a handful as a little boy. “You’re funny.”