I winced.
“Tomorrow I’ll see about coming and helping them get it back into place,” I said. “What’s on your agenda tonight?”
Booth had said that she had a wedding to go to just like I did, but I never expected her to say what she did next.
“There’s a wedding at The Back Porch. A man that I helped pair a service dog with last year invited me,” she said. “Actually, he blackmailed me. He said that he had someone that he wanted me to meet. He apparently thinks this man needs a service dog. Or, at least, he thinks his son would do well with one. His son is diabetic. They think that he would do really well with a service dog that could alert them in the middle of the night if something were to happen.”
“I thought that you specialized in dogs that helped with PTSD and seizures. Is it easy to train them for diabetics?” I asked curiously.
She wiggled her hand in a so-so gesture. “Sort of. At least, not any more hard or easy than seizures or panic attacks. It’s just them being alert to a different problem with their charge. I’ve been working with a dog that I think would be a great pairing. But he’s still quite young, and I need to work with him a bit more until I’m sure he’s ready. But… we’ll see.”
“How do you train these dogs?” I asked curiously.
The house shook with a boom of thunder and Delanie jumped, then pressed her hand over her ample chest—an ample chest that was very beautifully displayed in the dress she was wearing—and started to explain.
“It all starts with discipline,” she said. “We have to train them to be a good dog before they can do anything else. It starts with sit, stay, come, heel. Things like that. Then we move into the more experienced programs of obedience. Once they’ve obtained that, we go into the training for other specialties, such as PTSD. Some of the first signs of a panic attack is elevated heart rate. Sweating. Hyperventilating. Things like that. The dog learns to recognize those signs, and then we start to train them what to do if they do recognize those signs. For instance, Hayes’ dog, to give you an idea. If he starts experiencing any of those signs, he’s trained to get Hayes’ attention. First it’ll start with gentle nudging. Touching his nose to Hayes’ hand. Then if that doesn’t help, he’ll start licking his hand. If that doesn’t work, he’ll start nudging. Barking. Then he’s taught to stay with his human, offering comfort, until Hayes pulls himself under control.”
Hayes, one of my buddies on the SWAT team, had been a prisoner of war. He’d come home with quite a few problems that kept him from interacting with society at times. Ares, his now-wife, who was also a SWAT kid—kids of the original Kilgore SWAT team members like me and Booth—had contacted me to sound out Delanie to get Hayes a service dog.
The dog was perfect for Hayes and helped him be more regular with day-to-day activities.
Like going to the grocery store, or the mall.
“What about the blood sugar?” I asked. “Is that something they can smell?”
“We’re not actually quite sure how they figure it out. I mean, it could be the symptoms such as the slowed heart rate or respirations. A change in their body composition or odor. I don’t know. They’re just able to detect it. This dog will be trained to alert the father since it’s unlikely that the kid will be able to do anything about it.”
“How old is the kid?” I asked.
“According to Piers, the man that got the service dog from me last year, the kid is around four. He has type one diabetes,” she explained.
“Rough,” I said. “That’s about Asa’s age. I couldn’t imagine him having something like that.”
She made a sound of agreement and stood up just as another boom of thunder rocked the house.
“Damn,” she said. “I forgot to close the garage door to the kennels.”
My brows rose.
“It was a nice day today. I was giving them some fresh air,” she explained. “I’ll be right back.”
She hadn’t even made it two steps into the living room before I caught her by the arm and pulled her toward me.
“I’ll do it,” I said as I brushed past her and went out her garage door.
Delanie and Dillan had a four-bedroom farmhouse that they’d added a garage onto. The garage housed their kennels where they put the dogs when they weren’t home.
I’d asked once why Delanie locked them into their kennels instead of just allowing them to have free range of the house. She’d explained that service dogs weren’t like other house pets. They were working dogs that had a job to do. And since they had a job to do, they couldn’t just ‘be a house dog’ like normal pets. At least not when she was training them.
They have to have a structured routine. They have to have their own space. They have to have strict rules, because when they go to their people, they need to be solely and entirely focused on their charges. I am not their charge. I am their teacher.
I walked out through the garage door and took the covered pathway outside and to the added-on building that was the kennels.
There, I grinned when I saw all the dogs.
She had four all together right now, and each one of them was cute as hell.
After talking to each one of them, I went to the garage door and closed it with the button. Once it was closed, I once again spoke to each dog, rolling my eyes when I saw the brand-new pet beds in their kennels, as well as a fucking television that was across the room giving them some noise.
After leaving, I winced when the wind hit my face, making my hair blow this way and that.
I’d tried to get it tamed into some semblance of containment, but it just wasn’t in the cards for me, apparently.
My hair was much too long. I was about two months past needing a cut, but I just didn’t have fuckin’ time to get it done.
If I wasn’t working, I was taking SWAT calls. And if I wasn’t doing either of those things, I was doing a family dinner, helping watch Asa, or trying to catch up on sleep.
When I made it back inside her place, the rain finally started.
And it was fucking raining.
Big fat drops so plentiful that I could no longer make out the kennels that I’d just come out of.
“Holy shit,” I said.
“What?”
I didn’t jump, but only because I’d been trained not to.
Over the years, my brothers and sisters had done their level best to scare each other.
If it wasn’t my own twin popping out from around the corner that I was nearing, it was my younger brothers, Heath or Garrett. Or my sisters, Bell, Priscilla or Daniella.
Hell, there was nothing worse than being scared by your baby sister.
Nothing.
So though Delanie’s sudden appearance had scared me, she hadn’t seen the outward effects.
I turned so that my body was sideways and I wasn’t taking up the majority of the window in the door, then gestured to the rain.
“Wow,” she said. “Do you think they made it before it started?”
Just as she asked that, my phone beeped.
I pulled it out to see two words in a text from Booth.
Booth: Made it.
I showed it to her, causing her to smile.
God, was she beautiful.
And right then, with her hair swaying around her chin, I was struck momentarily speechless.
She was so fuckin’ beautiful that it hurt.
I wanted her.
I wanted her bad.
But I couldn’t have her.
Brother’s baby mama.
Brother’s baby mama.
I chanted those words in my head as I took a few steps back from her.
When my hips met the counter, I nearly cursed.
I needed space.
I needed room to get away from her before I did something stupid like tell her that she was pretty.
Or that I wanted to fuck her face.
“It’s slowing,” she said. “Wow. The weathe
rman was right for once.”
I didn’t even glance out the window.
Couldn’t.
I just couldn’t look away from her beautiful face.
Her beautiful blue eyes. The way that her lips curved up just the smallest amount at the edges.
I wanted to lean forward and kiss her.
“And it’s stopped,” she said. “Amazing. What the hell was the point?”
I practically had to peel my eyes away from her as I glanced out the window.
“Rain is rain in the middle of the summer,” I admitted. “We didn’t get as much rain in the winter months as we normally did, and our spring was kind of light, too. Meaning that we’ll take what we can get. Even if it’s a fifteen-second rainstorm.”
She grinned and turned her eyes up to me. “True.”
I needed to get out of there.
Now.
“Do you have a towel that I can borrow to wipe off the seat of my bike?” I asked.
She nodded, walking to the laundry room that was right off the kitchen and coming back with an old looking towel.
It’d definitely seen better days.
“Nice,” I said at the multitude of stains on it.
“It’s a dog towel. I use it to dry them off after baths. Sometimes they chew on it when they’re done,” she teased.
I nodded, tucking the towel under my arm.
“I need to go. Thank you again,” I said.
“You know, you could just ride with me,” she said. “It makes sense since we’re going to the same place.”
She was technically correct.
But I just couldn’t stay in the same car with her, smelling her unique scent in a confined space. Even if the drive over was only ten minutes.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “But if I get a SWAT call, I’ll need to be able to leave.”
She pursed her lips. “You could just take my car. But I heard you talking with Booth earlier. He said that y’all were just on call to be on call, correct?”
Yes, technically, she was correct.
Our SWAT team was split into two teams. Unless something big that a team of six couldn’t handle and required all twelve of us, we normally switched nights being on call. Today was my night to be on call to being on call.
“Then drive with me. That way you won’t get your tux wet,” she offered.
I wish I could’ve found a better excuse, but I’d fucking used the best one that I had.
“Okay,” I said. “Fine.”
She rolled her eyes, and I wanted to kiss her smart mouth.
“Don’t make me pull your leg or anything. If you want to ride and get wet, fine, do it. I’m just thinking of all those wedding pictures you’ll be in with your dirty pants,” she said.
She was right.
Dammit.
I gestured toward the door. “Are you ready?”
She hustled into the living room, bent over the back of the couch, and I damn near had a heart attack.
She had on black underwear.
Lacy black underwear.
And goddamn garters.
Son of a bitch.
Goddamn garters.
What did I do to deserve this?
I swear to God.
I just couldn’t deal.
I couldn’t.
I was on the verge of saying that I was taking my motorcycle when she said, “Can you drive? I don’t want to take my heels off. And I’m not quite sure I can do a six-speed in these.”
I gritted my teeth and held my hand out for her keys.
She tossed them my way instead of handing them to me, and I licked my dry lips before saying, “Yeah.”
We walked out of the house seconds later, me stopping to make sure the front door was locked securely before heading to her Jeep.
Delanie drove a newish Jeep Wrangler four-door. It was bright red and always struck me as flashy as fuck.
I’d never drive something so bright or eye-catching.
Mostly because I drove fast, and when I drove fast, I didn’t want the color of my car to bring a cop’s attention to me.
Which was funny, seeing as I was a cop.
“Hey, Mr. July!”
I looked up to find Delanie’s neighbor, my little fucking sister Priscilla, waving at me.
I flipped her off.
Priscilla laughed and went back into her house.
“She only does it because it drives you insane,” she teased.
“I know,” I rumbled as I walked to her door and held it open for her.
She used the running board to get inside, and I once again had a flash of lacy garters.
My dick went hard, and I mentally berated myself for looking.
My brother’s baby mama.
My brother’s baby mama.
“Thanks,” she said as I backed away and closed the door.
Rounding the Jeep’s front bumper, I got in seconds later and started it up.
My sister’s front blinds went open again, and I made sure to flip her off again for good measure.
“You’re just as bad as she is,” she said.
I chuckled as I put the Jeep into gear and started to let off the clutch.
“My sister is annoying and too young to be living on her own,” I said. “She’s only eighteen, and she should still be at home. Not living in the country in her ex-boyfriend’s grandmother’s house.”
There was a long moment of silence.
“I never did hear how that happened,” she admitted. “I used to see the two of them over at the grandmother’s house before she died. I’m not sure how it went bad, though.”
“Priscilla and Gadron dated for a year, I think. They broke up, but Gadron’s grandmother, Beverly, really liked her. And since the grandson got himself hooked on drugs, Beverly had no one to leave her stuff to. So she left it all to Priscilla. I swear to God, at dinner last week when she said that she was moving out, I thought that my mother and father were going to lose their shit,” I admitted as I shifted into second, followed closely by third.
“Booth hasn’t said much,” she admitted.
“Booth thinks it’s a great idea. He was gone at nineteen. Priscilla is very mature, and he likes the idea of someone being close to you and Asa, so of course he’s going to be happy that this happened,” I admitted.
She made an understanding sound in the back of her throat.
“That makes sense,” she said. “Asa loves having Priscilla there, too. In between you showing up out of the blue, him getting to spend more time with Booth since I’m traveling so much, and Dillan? He’s a really lucky kid.”
That wasn’t luck.
At least, not in my opinion.
It was what a family should be like. Asa should have caring aunts and uncles that loved him. He should have a mom and dad that he meant the world to.
Dillan and Delanie were the unlucky ones.
Their dad was a piece of shit.
A real piece of work that never ceased to piss me off each time that I had the chance to see him.
I dodged a downed tree in the road, and Delanie craned her neck to look over her shoulder at the large branch that was overhanging the road.
“Do you think they know that’s there?” she asked curiously.
Just as I was about to say ‘I have no idea’ a cop came around the corner, going slow.
“They know,” I said. “He’s probably heading there now to mark it so drivers know to slow down.”
The branch was too big to move.
It’d be staying there until the highway crews could come out and remove it.
The rest of the five-minute drive took us no time, and when I pulled into the parking lot, I was surprised to see it completely full. We were likely one of the lasts guests to arrive.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said. “I really don’t like driving in the rain.”
I knew she didn’t. Any time that there was ra
in, either Booth or I went to pick Asa up from her if it was Booth’s weekend.
Neither one of us minded.
If she was uncomfortable, we weren’t going to be upset for wanting to keep her child safe.
“I know it does,” I rumbled softly. “You need help out?”
In answer, she slid out of the seat, and I once again got an up-close and personal view of her backside.
Was she doing this to me on purpose?
I really thought she might be.
And if she wasn’t, then goddamn, I would hate to see what it was like when she was trying.
Joke's on You (SWAT Generation 2.0 Book 6) Page 21