by Hall, Traci
Grace lifted her cup and inhaled the floral scent.
“That’s a great idea,” she said, knowing she could make space for the additional question by adjusting her margin. “I’m surprised you think there could be more than one way to do something.”
He poured his coffee and added cream from the fridge. “There are many ways to train an animal—Emma Mercer runs Heart to Heart Kennel here in Kingston, and she focuses on training her dogs for emotional support therapy. Her approach is completely different than my system, but she delivers in the end. She’s bringing a dog by tomorrow that I hope will be a good fit.”
“Emotional support therapy? Do you think that kind of dog would be helpful to some of the guys around here?” Or Violet.
Sawyer sipped his coffee. “Yeah, I do. I’ve been talking with Bill about that. Some of these vets have PTSD and anxiety disorders because of what they’ve seen. Not sure it makes business sense, but I’m going to see what I can do.”
“What is ‘business sense?’” The idea of not helping someone in need was so foreign to Grace she had no idea what he meant.
Sawyer shrugged, his mouth a straight line as he lowered his cup. “If I can sell five service animals by the end of a year, that will cover the basic costs for all of this.” He smiled. “You don’t get a Bark Camp for cheap.”
She held her mug to her mouth, wondering if there would be a way to get one for Violet. “How much do you charge?”
“Depends on the skills the dog has, but I can get, on average, fifty thousand.”
Grace choked on the tea she’d just sipped, and Sawyer had to pat her on the back.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
There was no way she could afford one for Violet, even if she wanted to. “Why are they so much?”
“That’s the going rate. It’s a lot of work to train one of these dogs.”
“Especially if they’re like Bert.” Her brow lifted as she thought of Bert’s not-so-stellar behavior.
“Bert was a rescue, but he’ll pass his public access test by the time I’m through,” Sawyer said, his palm up to negate her observation. “No being unruly or aggressive. No relieving themselves in public, no barking, just to name a few things on the list.”
Ah, Bert, she thought.
“Wait and see, Grace. Hopefully, I still know what I’m doing.” His grin left her with no doubt of his confidence.
“What will they know how to do?”
“Normally, it can take up to two years before a dog is properly trained, depending on the tasks warranted.” He held up two fingers. “Service dogs do everything from pulling wheelchairs, stopping seizures, and alerting to food allergens, to helping with simple jobs around the house.”
That sounded like a lot. “So you plan on being here a while.”
He drank from his mug, his dark brown eyes serious. “I’ve given myself a year. With my on-site intensive training, these pups will be ready in twelve months.”
“A year?” He’d just rattled off a long laundry list of tasks, so how was he supposed to train the dogs in only half the normal time? She’d have to watch his training videos to understand him more. It seemed this man’s ego was boundless.
“The goal is an AKC-certified dog with general service animal credentials, ready to be molded to the individual.”
“A what?”
“American Kennel Club—AKC. The more specific tasks a dog is trained to do, the more the dog is worth.” He pushed away from the counter and refilled his cup with coffee. “A dog for the blind can bring in sixty thousand.”
“That’s a lot of muffins,” she half joked, feeling queasy at the amount of money.
“It’s a lot of work.” He shrugged.
Grace acknowledged that it was and could only do her part. “I’ll tweak that questionnaire. Is there anything else you need?” Need made her think of him—again. She swallowed hard.
“You’re doing a wonderful job.” His thick lashes framed gorgeous deep brown eyes that she could get lost in. She added a splash of hot water to her full cup of tea.
“It’s not my first rodeo,” she said with a lift of her shoulder. When it came to talents, Sawyer was up on her. “Foster likes to use me for business setup because I’m good with computers.”
“Not my skill set,” Sawyer said. “I thought you’d be more art than IT, though.”
“These days, they go hand in hand. In my photography business, I use software to improve my pictures.”
“I imagined you in a darkroom surrounded by prints hanging to dry.”
He’d thought about her? She hid her smile in the mug. “Not many people use darkrooms anymore, but I have a small space for that.”
“I’ve seen your house,” he said. “It would have to be very small.”
“We had a tiny house before they were even a thing,” she teased. “But it’s in the garage.”
With her garden and the chicken coop, Grace was very self-sufficient. “How’s your new camera working?”
“Good, thank you,” she said quickly, veering back to the job at hand. Right now, Sawyer had twenty empty kennel spaces that needed filling, and she would do her best. “I suppose we should get to work.”
“With the four new recruits arriving later, we’ll be well on our way. Once people know that I’m taking applicants for dogs to train, the phones will ring off the hook.” He spoke with assurance.
Grace took another drink of her tea and hoped, for Sawyer’s sake, that the dogs wouldn’t all be like Bert. She lifted her mug to Sawyer’s.
“To Bark Camp,” she said.
He gave a slow grin that allowed a glimpse at the man beneath the name. “To Bark Camp.”
Grace carefully brought her tea to her desk and turned the computer on. Scanning her emails, she saw one from Kasam Kramer and opened it. He loved the photos she’d sent him and wondered if she could take even more—some of not only the dogs but also the vets working around the office.
Grace wrote back that she could and paged through some of the other pictures she’d taken but hadn’t sent yet. She made a collage of the funnier dog pics she figured she’d send the marketer—at least he had a sense of humor, unlike her boss. She hoped that Sawyer’s certainty of success didn’t lead to disappointment.
Chapter Fourteen
Sawyer hadn’t meant his declaration to sound quite as arrogant as it had come out. There was something about Grace that made him prickly and defensive, and yet he wanted to please her, too. Knowing what she tasted like, what she felt like in his arms was sheer torture.
She turned him upside down.
He returned to his office and spent an hour working out pricing and running numbers. He had a serious business for people with serious issues and substantial budgets, and he couldn’t shake the feeling Grace would want him to just give the dogs away—spend countless hours training them and send them off to whoever was neediest with no regard to payback. There was no way Bark Camp would be around in a year if that was his business model.
Since he couldn’t get her off his mind, Sawyer decided to drop by her desk on the pretense of checking on the questionnaire. He saw artistic pictures of dogs on her monitor, which wasn’t at all what he’d asked her to work on.
“What are you doing?” asked Sawyer.
Grace seemed startled by his approach and glanced up. “What? Oh, Kasam asked me to send more pictures his way.”
She’d been emailing Kasam? “More pictures? What pictures?”
Grace straightened in her black ergonomic chair. “I sent some of the photos I took to your marketing person.”
“You should’ve asked me first,” he said. He had a certain image to portray for the network to be on board for his new show.
Her cheeks turned a rosy pink. “Oh? You’d left his card on my desk, so I thought…I assumed…I was helping. Sorry.” The last ca
me out defensively.
He wished they could reset and raised his palm. “It’s okay. I should’ve explained I wanted you to add his contact information into the system.” She couldn’t read his mind. “What about the questionnaire I wanted complete?”
“I’m getting to that,” she said. “I’m almost done with these pictures.”
He sighed deeply and knocked his knuckles on her desk. “Please finish that first.” He’d like the questionnaire checked off his list, and he would email Kasam to find out what was going on between his marketer and receptionist.
“Okay, boss.” Grace immediately clicked over to the open Word program on her computer.
An uncomfortable silence crept between them.
Grace scooted back in her chair to face him. “I’ll get right on it,” she said, her mouth lacking its usual smile.
Sawyer realized she was upset—he wasn’t that oblivious—but he didn’t understand why. He was only asking her do what he was paying her to do. Was she upset because she thought he didn’t like the photos?
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the pictures you took,” he said. “I really do like art. It’s just some of these aren’t the vibe I’m going for.” He wanted to frame the one of him and Bert connecting eye-to-eye and hang it here in the lobby. “I’d like to see some of your work someday.”
Her shiny black brow arched in surprise. “Really? I didn’t think nature photos would be your thing.”
“I like art of all kinds. I have a Frank Stella you should see sometime. It’ll be here next week.” Smooth, Sawyer. Want to come see my paintings? My house, my bed?
“I don’t know who that is.” She exhaled and turned to the computer, blowing a curl at the side of her face.
Sawyer guessed they were done talking. He strode to his office, whistling for the dogs before remembering that he’d left them at home. Truthfully, he’d anticipated being busy by now. Bark Camp was officially open, but it was crickets in the lobby.
Had he been too long out of the public eye as a dog trainer? Was there too much bad press? Damn Daniella. And why hadn’t the dogs been dropped off yet?
He sank into the chair behind his desk and dialed his marketing guru, Kasam Kramer—the super whiz had helped him launch both training books Sawyer and his brother Bobby had put together.
“This is Kasam,” he answered.
“Hi, it’s Sawyer.”
“Sawyer!” Noise rustled as the man did something with the phone. “How are you?”
“Bark Camp’s open.”
“That’s great. I got an email from Grace. The photos are fantastic.”
“They are?” Sawyer thought of the picture of Kita with the flower in her teeth. “I’m not sure that’s the image I’m shooting for.”
“Sure, sure…I saw your pilot. How’s that working out?” Kasam asked.
“Still on standby until I get myself back in the groove with this new training center.”
“I understand. Listen, Bark Camp sounds really promising. Have you worked out pricing and duration?”
“Yeah, I’ll send some spreadsheets your way.” Sawyer could practically hear the gears turning in Kasam’s head. “I’m forced to fly under the radar for a while longer. I thought that there’d be more word of mouth from the kennels I’ve worked with, but it’s quiet. We’re going to need a really big launch as soon as I get the starting flag.”
“Got it. I’ll put the campaign together. Remember, I’m only a ferry ride away, if you need me to come out there, but your receptionist has a great eye.”
Grace. He happened to agree. “Well, show me what you’ve got, and we’ll go from there.”
“All right. So, how are you really doing?”
The tone seemed suddenly personal. “Fine.”
“I see the occasional garbage in the news… Hang in there, man. I don’t know what you did to piss her off, but Daniella has nothing nice to say. Makes her look like a prima donna. You sure you don’t want to state your side?”
“My lawyer said it’s a better idea if I keep my head down.” He sat back in his office chair and eyed the plans on his wall. He had to get the word out there or he was sunk. “Escalation and all that.”
“Okay, just make sure it’s not down on a chopping block. Know what I mean?”
Sawyer did. It’s what he felt like most days. “Gary counters whenever he finds something especially libelous. My family’s always letting me know what she’s saying. I’m burying myself in work and keeping a low profile.”
“Well, don’t dig yourself too deep. People need to remember who you are.”
Ouch. “Which is why I’m calling you.”
“I like the vet angle Jaden’s working on.”
His team had been talking—Sawyer shouldn’t be surprised. It’s what he paid them to do, hash out cohesive strategy. It was just that the initial plans they’d had with the vets no longer sat right on his conscience.
“Listen, Kasam, I want to truly help people here. I don’t want this to all be for show.” Sawyer was surprised at the words as they left his mouth, but they seemed to be exactly the way he felt, and the churning in his belly eased.
“Naturally,” said Kasam. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Thanks.” Sawyer ended the call, torn between wanting to drag Daniella’s name through the mud and staying the course—taking care of him, and the dogs, and this center—because that was all he could control.
He laughed to himself as he sent pictures of the building and training center to Kasam. Control—what a joke. All he thought about was Grace and the silkiness of her skin beneath his palm. Her kiss, her cute upturned nose when she was annoyed with him, which was almost always.
Focus! Building layout—sent.
He heard Grace singing in the lobby and groaned with frustration.
Why couldn’t he meet a woman who was easy to get along with? Someone who wanted reasonable things? Daniella had wanted absolutely everything, and it seemed that Grace wanted nothing but to take silly dog photos. No, that wasn’t what had him steamed.
Their chemistry could melt plastic—but Grace had easily pushed him away while he couldn’t get her out of his head.
Chapter Fifteen
Tuesday morning, Grace arrived at Bark Camp to find Sawyer’s custom Land Rover parked sideways in front of the door. She coasted the VW to a spot beneath a pine tree and walked into the lobby, where he had four dogs of varied breeds straining at their leashes.
He spied Grace and cursed. “I’d hoped to have these mongrels put away before you got here.”
The two of them had spent yesterday pricing the equipment for sale and inventorying the stock. The absence of a ringing phone was louder than the barking. She’d witnessed a hint of vulnerability in Sawyer when success was not happening literally overnight.
The owners of the dogs hadn’t understood that he’d wanted the trainees delivered early, so he’d arranged to pick them up today rather than have them stay overnight in a strange kennel without any introduction. Sweet, she thought.
“Let me help!” Grace sidestepped a puddle on the cement floor and dropped her purse and lunch on her desk. Swinging dog tails smacked into her legs as she rounded the partition.
“Can you get the door?” He gestured with his head to the rear exit that led to the training yard, dog runs, and kennel.
“Sure!” She hurried by them, and one of the dogs caught her thin scarf in its teeth and pulled. It choked her, and she jerked back.
“Release,” Sawyer ordered.
Because of Sawyer’s commanding tone, or just a coincidence, the dog let go. She hoofed to the door, coughing.
Reaching for one of the leashes, she said, “You have your work cut out for you.”
“I’ve got this,” said Sawyer, pulling the leashes away.
She held up her
hands and rolled her eyes. “Apologies.” The man was all about control in the middle of chaos. She was used to chaos and didn’t expect for things to go smoothly.
Sawyer strained at holding all four sizable dogs as they pulled at their leashes toward freedom just outside the door. Despite the anarchy, he didn’t lose his cool. When he passed by her, he said, “Thanks, would you shut that?”
She did and watched through the window as Sawyer ushered the largest dog into the closest chain-link dog run. The ten long, rectangular runs she’d thought were overkill turned out to be necessary. The next largest dog he prodded inside the smaller run. He attached the third dog’s leash to a circular roundabout, and he kept the fourth dog at his side.
Sawyer ensured each dog obeyed one command correctly before he rewarded them and released them in the fenced yard. He had a way about him that got things done.
He turned on the hose to fill water buckets, and her mouth dried when he stripped his shirt—he turned as if suddenly remembering she was there, and she leaped back from the window, hoping he didn’t see her.
Luckily, the phone rang, so she heel-toed across the room to her desk, avoiding the dog’s puddle. “Bark Camp, how may I help you?”
“Is this where Sawyer Rivera works?” The high-pitched, breathy voice sounded hopeful as the woman tittered. “I’ve got a dog that needs training, and I just love his books. Is he there?”
“Yes, if you go to the website, you’ll be able to fill out the various forms he requests,” she said. Including the darn questionnaire, which had taken her ten minutes yesterday to complete.
“Oh, no,” she insisted on a sigh. “I need to talk to him first—my dog is very, very bad.”
Grace bit her lip to keep from laughing.
“Just this once, let me take your name and number, and I’ll see if I can get him to call you back.”
“You’re an angel!” the woman declared. “I’m Anita Lowery.” She enunciated her name carefully then rolled off a Seattle number.
“We’ll be in touch,” Grace said and hung up.
Remembering the mess in the lobby, she got out the industrial spray cleaner and some paper towels—made with recycled paper, so she didn’t feel too bad using extra.