by Sandra Owens
She called bull on his idea of her helping him being a favor he was offering from the goodness of his thieving heart. More like he either realized he couldn’t duplicate her design or that he couldn’t meet the deadline he’d given. Maybe both, and that thought pleased her to no end. “You can take your offer and stick it where the sun don’t shine.”
His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. “Classy.” He glanced away, and when his gaze returned to her, the pinched look on his face was gone and the smile was back. “Look, I scratch your back, you scratch mine. Win, win.” He held his hands out, palms up. “I’ll even let you put your name on the back of the plates under mine.”
The nerve! She strode to him, getting in his space. “The only thing I’m going to scratch are your eyes out if you don’t go away.” Rambo whined, apparently picking up on the tension. Either that or she was about to squeeze him to death. She eased her grip on him.
“We’ll talk after you calm down.” He walked farther into the mall.
Calm down? Calm down? She planted her feet to keep from chasing him and tackling him to the floor so she could beat the crap out of him. It disturbed her that she had these hateful feelings. She was not a violent person, and she detested Trevor for bringing out something inside her that she’d never known existed.
“You’re getting heavy, kiddo.” She set Rambo on the floor and shook a finger at him. “You are not to cozy up to him, you hear? He’s the enemy.” Rambo licked her face.
It was interesting that Trevor hadn’t said a word about her calling him in the middle of the night. She’d been sure that he’d have something to say about that.
In an attempt to get her mind back to a peaceful state, she grabbed the soft cloth she used to dust her pottery. Pottery—making it, touching it, even dusting it—made her happy. She dusted her heart out. It was working, the tension easing as she shined each plate, bowl, saucer, mug, and decorative item. She particularly loved the collection of fairies that were popular with customers.
“Are you calm enough to talk now?”
At hearing Trevor’s voice, she took a deep breath and counted to ten before turning to face him. She’d thought he’d left. “I’ll never be calm enough to talk to you.”
He shook his head as if she were a naughty child. “Nichole, get over your sulk. I’m making you a great offer here.”
“Seriously? You jackass, you’re offering me a sliver of my own commission back?” She headed for him, fully intending to follow through on her threat to scratch his eyes out.
“There a problem here?”
The deep voice speaking behind her had her spinning her head like a possessed person who needed an exorcist. “Jack? Where did you come from?”
Chapter Three
“Here and there.” Jack stepped next to Nichole. “He bothering you?”
The man’s gaze swung to him. “Who the hell are you?”
“Depends on her answer. Either someone you don’t need to worry about or your worst nightmare.” He’d always wanted to say that, the worst nightmare part, and he had trouble keeping a straight face.
She glared at the man. “He’s not bothering me because he’s leaving.”
Deny it all she wanted, but it was obvious the man was bothering her, and Jack didn’t like that one bit. But until he knew the problem, the last thing he needed to do was overstep, making the situation bigger than it was.
Toward the end of their phone conversation, she’d sounded agitated, and he’d heard a man talking to her. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to decipher her “What are you doing here?” and the tension in her voice to figure out the dude was upsetting her. It wasn’t any of his business, but he hadn’t been able to stay away.
Jack eyed the lean man, not impressed. He supposed the tears in the knees of the jeans was a thing these days, but he thought it was pretty stupid to pay good money for damaged goods. And the guy’s combat boots? No way they’d ever set their soles on desert sand.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe the lady said you were leaving.” Jack raised a brow when the man didn’t move.
“I need to talk to Nichole...alone.”
“Not happening unless that’s what she wants.” He shifted his gaze to Nichole. “Is that what you want, darlin’?” Okay, he was laying it on a bit thick, but the dude was rubbing him wrong.
“No, sweet cheeks, he has nothing to say that I want to hear.”
Sweet cheeks? He couldn’t hold back his snort, then tried to cover it up with a cough. Nichole’s elbow in his ribs said he hadn’t done a good job of that. Damn, he liked this girl. Rambo was trying to climb up his legs, so he picked up the puppy, holding him in his good arm while he draped the other one over Nichole’s shoulders, creating a picture of a happy little family. “You heard the lady. Now scram.”
“This doesn’t concern you, Neanderthal. It’s between me and Nichole.”
Jack sighed. He’d hoped the guy would respect Nichole’s wishes. That wasn’t happening, unfortunately. He didn’t know what the problem between them was and didn’t care. His parents had taught him that women were to be respected and treated equally. Maybe he needed to teach this man that lesson.
“What’s his name?” he asked Nichole.
“Trevor.”
He set Rambo down, and then handed Nichole the leash. Stepping into Trevor’s space, he bumped his chest against the man’s. Whatever he wanted from Nichole was making the dude desperate. Desperate men tended to get stupid. No man was going to get stupid around Nichole on his watch. If that meant he was a Neanderthal, so be it. She might give him hell for interfering later, but he could take it.
“Here’s the thing, Trevor. She doesn’t want to talk to you, so I’ll give you three seconds to walk away.”
“Or what? You’re going to beat the shit out of me, then pound on your chest and say, ‘Me Tarzan’? Go ahead, make my day.”
Jack couldn’t help it, he laughed. “You’re a funny dude. But your three seconds are up, and I’m going to do this.” He put his hand on the back of Trevor’s neck, spread his fingers, dug his thumb and index finger into his neck’s pressure points, and walked Trevor and his never-seen-combat combat boots through the mall and out the door.
“Take my well-intentioned advice, Trevor. Leave Nichole alone.” He dropped his hand from the man’s neck. “Do we understand each other?”
“You’re a beast, a...a bully.”
“Yep, that’s me.” He turned his back on the man and headed inside. As he returned to Nichole, it occurred to him that she might not appreciate his little stunt. He was forming his apology as he reached her.
“Thank you,” she quietly said. “You got him out of here without making a scene.”
Okay, no apology necessary. That was good. He hadn’t blown it with her right out of the gate. He tipped an imaginary hat. “I aim to please, ma’am.”
“I thought you were going to get in a fight with him. Thank you for not doing that.”
“I’m averse to beating up anyone weaker than me. You want to clue me in on what that was about? If it’s none of my business, feel free to tell me to butt out.” What he wanted to know was if Trevor was or had been her boyfriend.
“It’s a business thing. I’ll tell you over pizza.” She glanced up at him. “We’re still on for that, right? Unless you think I’m too much trouble.”
He grinned. “I’m thinking you just might be my kind of trouble, Nichole Masters.”
“Oh...”
He liked how her cheeks turned pink. A customer approached her table, reminding him that she was working. “I’m gonna walk around the place. I’ve noticed some neat stuff I want to check out.” He was also going to make sure Trevor didn’t come back. “What time do you close up?”
“Anytime I want to after five.”
“Great. I’ll be back by then. How about I tak
e Rambo with me? Give you a break for a while.” He could get some training in while he waited for Nichole to finish her day.
“Sure. If he gets too rambunctious, feel free to bring him back.”
“He won’t. My little buddy and I understand each other.” Or would soon.
With Rambo at his side, he spent an hour or so wandering from booth to booth. There were all kinds of merchandise in the mall: jewelry, stained glass, more pottery, paintings, carved wood, and metal art. There was even a woman sewing a quilt as people watched. He particularly liked the metal art and stopped to check the items out.
“Saw you escort Trevor Allen out,” the artist said. “Forest Ellers.”
“Jack Daniels.” When that got a smirk, he said, “I can see there are dozens of responses to that rumbling around in your head. Trust me, I’ve heard them all.”
Forest laughed. “I just bet you have.”
“So you know Allen?” Maybe he could get some intel on the man.
“Yeah. Great potter but lazy. He used to have a booth here before he decided he was too good for the likes of us and opened a studio downtown. His space was always a mess, and he had a bad habit of encroaching on his neighboring booths. Whenever one of the artists complained, he would cajole one of the women around here to tidy up for him.”
Had Nichole been one of those women? He wanted to ask if she’d ever dated the man but didn’t. That was information that needed to come from her. Jack picked up a really cool dog made from various kinds of metals. He waited for more intel, but Forest seemed to have reached his limit of what he was willing to say. That was okay. Jack was getting a bead on Allen, and his impression of the man wasn’t improving.
“I’ll take this,” he said, setting aside the foot-tall metal dog. When he pulled out his wallet, Forest put a hand up.
“It’s yours. Consider it my token of appreciation for this afternoon’s entertainment. You walking Trevor out like he was a puppet was the best thing I’ve seen in a long time.”
“Thanks, man. I have a thing for dogs, and this is damn cool.”
With another hour before Nichole could get away, he decided to take his first ever piece of art to his truck, then work a little with Rambo. The dog had caught on pretty fast to walking with him. Each time Rambo had tried to take off, he’d given the leash a gentle tug, bringing Rambo back to him. After the fifth time of doing that, Rambo had given up trying to escape.
The puppy was sired by working dogs, and even though he was too young yet to know it, working was in his DNA. He just needed direction to find his place in the world. Jack knew how to give that to him.
After putting his art piece in his truck, Jack took Rambo over to a square of grass alongside the parking lot. He crouched down. “Here’s the deal, little man. You need to help me impress your mistress. I know you have a lot of energy, and we’ll curb that while still keeping you happy. That work for you?”
Rambo licked his cheek, making Jack laugh. Man, he loved dogs. As he began the dog’s first lesson, it hit him that he’d laughed more since Nichole had mistakenly dialed his number and called him doggy doo than he had...well, since before he’d gotten up close and personal with a bomb. Someday when the timing was right, he was going to enjoy giving her an earful about drunk dialing him.
For now, though, he had a pizza date to look forward to.
* * *
“The first rule to remember is that you’re the pack leader.”
“Okay. How do I do that?” Nichole asked. Jack was standing next to her in her backyard, and his masculine, woodsy scent was a distraction to the point it was hard to pay attention.
He’d followed her home, and they had ordered a pizza. While eating, she’d told him what Trevor had done, and she had the feeling Jack regretted letting Trevor off so easily. She’d never expected to have a real-life warrior on her side, but here one was in the flesh. And what nice flesh it was.
What impressed her the most was that Jack hadn’t used his fists to get his point across to Trevor. If it had been Lane there today, her ex-boyfriend wouldn’t have been satisfied until Trevor was bleeding and begging for mercy. Because of Lane’s violent tendencies, she had grown to despise any kind of fighting. But Lane was history that she had no wish to revisit, so she pushed thoughts of him away. If only the man himself would stay away.
“I’ll teach you that as we go along.”
“Teach me?” What were they talking about?
A smile curved his lips and amusement lit his blue eyes. “Where’s your mind, Nichole?”
On how good you smell. Those blue eyes of yours. Kind of wondering just what things you could teach me. She gave herself a mental shake. “Um, my mind wandered a bit. Sorry.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he murmured, his smile morphing into a sexy smirk.
“Ah, you were saying?” She was sure she was blushing, which only confirmed that he was right as to where her thoughts had wandered to.
“Since my mama taught me it’s impolite to embarrass a lady, I won’t ask what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours.”
Oh boy. Another sexy smirk like that and her panties were going to melt off without any help from her. Jack Daniels was lady-parts-lethal, something she’d best remember.
“But back to what I was saying. A few tricks you can start doing to establish your role as the alpha dog is be the first out the door and the first back in the house when he’s with you. That’s signaling him that you’re the boss. You do that instead of letting him run out ahead of you and dragging you along behind him.”
“I can do that.”
He smiled, and not immune to that sexy curve of his lips, her heart fluttered. She wondered if she was in over her head with this man.
“Also, when you’re out walking him, keep the leash tight so he has to walk next to you. A step or two behind you is even better.”
“Okay.” That would sure make walking him more enjoyable. He was already getting big enough to be able to pull her along behind him.
“Being a preteen, he has a short attention span, so stop working him when his attention strays away from you. That’s usually about five or ten minutes at first. Before you start a training session, have a playtime to work off some of his energy. He’ll be more attentive then. Always be consistent in his training and go overboard in your praise. Lots of good boys and petting. Do that and he’ll show up for his next class with his tail wagging, ready to go to work.”
“That makes sense.” Although everything he was telling her seemed like common sense, it was all stuff she hadn’t considered.
“The first thing he needs to learn is to come when he’s called. That’s important if he ever gets free of his leash while you’re out with him. For a reward, we’ll start with treats, but pretty quickly we’ll wean him off them. I like to use clickers and balls as a reward.”
“Clickers?”
He pulled something out of his pocket that resembled a car remote and pressed a button, letting her hear the clicking noise. “It makes a distinct sound that he’ll learn to associate as praise. Eventually we’ll also use a ball. My dog thinks getting a ball is the best thing in the world.”
“You have a dog?”
“Dakota. She’s a working military dog. Or was. She was hurt, so she’s been retired.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” He walked to where Rambo was pulling the leaves from a bush. “Rambo.” When her puppy ignored him, he said the dog’s name again, but sharper this time, getting Rambo’s attention.
Nichole wanted to ask about Dakota and how she’d been hurt, but she had the impression that Jack didn’t want to talk about it. He showed her how to start teaching Rambo to come when called and how to praise him, and for the next five minutes she worked with her dog. When Jack said it was time to stop, she grinned. She knew it would take more sessions, but already Rambo had made
more progress than in the month she’d had him.
“Thank you. That was incredible.” She kneeled and combed her fingers through Rambo’s fur. Jack had told her to always end each lesson on a positive note, so she said, “Good boy. You’re such a good boy.” With his tail swishing like crazy, he flopped over on his back for a tummy rub.
“He catches on pretty fast, so if you can keep on a schedule of three or four short sessions a day, you’ll be happy with his progress. Remember to stay consistent. That’s important.”
“Got it.” She stood. “When can you come back?” Or was she presuming too much? “I mean, if you want to.”
Blue eyes snared hers. “I do want to. Just let me know when you’re free.”
She was free every night, but that sounded too pathetic to say. “Friday. Late afternoon if that’s good for you. That will give me two days to work with Rambo on what we learned today.”
“Works for me.” He glanced down at Rambo. “Well, I guess I better go.”
“Um, okay.” She was tempted to ask if he wanted to watch a movie or something, but it would be embarrassing if he said no. “I’ll walk you to your truck.” Keeping the leash tight so Rambo would have to stay next to her, she strolled alongside Jack.
“Do you have any days off?” he asked.
“I work my booth at the mall Wednesday through Saturday. The rest of my time is spent in my pottery studio.” In the beginning she’d covered all the hours herself, and then came home and made her pottery at night. That had been grueling, so as soon as she could afford it, she’d hired someone to cover her booth on Sundays, Mondays, and Tuesdays.
“Yeah? Where’s that?”
“My garage. I’ll show you next time you’re here if you want.”
“Sure. I’d like to see it.” He grinned. “You can teach me how to make an ashtray. Isn’t that what beginners always make?”
“First thing I made was a cereal bowl. It was awful, but my mother still has it. She eats her oatmeal out of it every morning.”