7. Guarding Behavior
Chapter seven
Guarding Behavior
Melina
When I wake, the first thing I notice is the lingering warmth of him, pressed into my skin like a memory.
Even though he’s gone, my body still bears the imprint of his arms around me, his hands tracing slow circles along my back.
That embrace wrecked me, because it wasn’t just touch—it was safety, comfort, and a closeness that felt dangerously like home.
I groan and roll over, staring at the ceiling, replaying how his lips brushed my forehead. Gentle. Reverent. And for one fleeting moment, I almost kissed him.
I sigh and run a hand over my face. I’m already in too deep. It’s not just attraction, or the way he looks at me, or how his presence stills something restless inside me. It’s his character.
I had called him in pure, unfiltered terror, my hands trembling as I tried to explain what happened, and he didn’t hesitate. He came.
And then he whispered to me, promised I wasn’t alone.
That’s dangerous, because I ache to believe him.
But believing means asking myself something I’m not sure I’m ready to face—can I really be with a man like him?
If I let myself love him, I have to accept the reality that I could lose him in an instant.
And then there are the kids. Matt said he didn’t think he was father material, but I can’t reconcile that with what I see—his patience, his gentleness, the way he was with Spencer last night, reassuring him there was nothing to fear.
Maybe he doesn’t recognize it, but I do. Still, I’ve been wrong before. Darren was a nightmare I barely escaped. Lee was strict and controlling—a drill sergeant to the kids, a dictator in our home.
Harper and Declan got a raw deal in the dad department—twice. I swore I wouldn’t let that happen again. And Spencer… he acts like he doesn’t care, but I see how it hurts. Too many nights I’ve wondered if I failed him, too. Do I really want to risk another mistake?
My phone pings on the nightstand, breaking through the spiral. I reach over and grab it, expecting Harper or maybe Declan. My face lights up when his name flashes on the screen.
It’s Matt.
Rise and shine. Don’t tell me you’re still in bed.
I smirk, rolling onto my stomach and burying my head in a pillow before typing back.
Oh no, I’ve been up for hours. Already ran five miles, baked a loaf of sourdough, knitted a sweater.
His reply is almost instant.
Impressive. All that before coffee?
Who said I needed coffee?
Now I know you’re lying.
Hope you got some rest after I saved your ass last night… again.
I snort, biting my lip.
My hero.
It’s one of my best qualities. Right up there with tire changing and devastating good looks.
I roll my eyes, grinning as I type.
Modesty suits you.
You forgot humble.
No, I didn’t.
I can practically hear his laugh in my head.
Alright, alright. But seriously, how’d you sleep? No more mystery visitors?
Nope. All quiet. I actually slept well.
That isn’t a lie. I had slept better. I wasn’t going to think too hard about why.
Good. I like knowing you’re safe.
Warmth curls in my chest. I hesitate for a second before responding.
Thanks again for last night.
Anytime, Melina.
I bite my lip, something flipping in my stomach at the way he says my name, even in text.
You got plans today?
I glance at the clock. 9:27 AM. The kids won’t be up for a while, and I don’t have anything pressing.
Not really. Just a lazy Saturday.
Not anymore.
I narrow my eyes at the screen.
What do you have in mind?
Training session. You, me, and Arrow.
I chew on my lip, trying to convince myself this is a terrible idea, that spending more time with him is dangerous for my heart. But instead, I text back—
When?
His reply is immediate.
2:00. I’ll bring the treats. You bring that stubborn dog of yours.
He’s not stubborn. He’s independent.
Right. And I’m not cocky, I’m confident.
I smile.
Fine. We’ll be there.
Looking forward to it.
I set the phone down, a light, stupidly happy feeling bubbling in my chest.
At exactly 2:00 p.m., I’m on Matt’s front porch, Arrow sitting attentively at my side. I barely lift my hand to knock before the door swings open.
Matt is there, grinning like an idiot, and holy hell, I am not prepared for what he’s wearing.
Gray joggers. Soft, low-slung, doing nothing to hide the power of his thighs, the strength in his legs, or—God help me—the obvious evidence that he is just as built below the belt as he is everywhere else.
And naturally, I’m staring.
I drag my gaze upward, past the navy t-shirt stretched across his torso, the strong line of his throat, the sharp cut of his jaw, until it finally meets his eyes.
“Enjoying the view?” he asks, smug.
Heat crawls up my neck. “Not particularly.”
He chuckles, shifting slightly. “Didn’t peg you for someone who gets rattled so easily.”
“I’m not,” I lie. “I was just… taking in the whole ‘you answering the door in that’ situation.”
He lifts a brow. “In what?”
I wave a hand at him. “That.”
Matt glances down, as if he has no idea what I mean, then smiles. “You’ve seen me in less.”
Which, of course, makes me think about the way he looked last night—shirtless, broad chest, ink over muscle, and that defined V disappearing beneath the waistband of his shorts, pulling my thoughts straight into dangerous territory.
The urge to touch him burns through me, sharp and insistent. I curl my hands into fists, forcing control.
Matt, entirely unbothered, steps back and gestures inside. “You gonna come in, or just keep standing there eyeing me like a snack?”
I inhale slowly and force my feet forward, stepping past him, even as my traitorous brain whispers a thought I do not need: God, I bet he tastes like one, too.
“I see you’re right on time,” he says, arms folded. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”
I smirk. “Don’t get used to it. I’m always late.”
His grin widens. “Yeah, I figured. You don’t exactly give off ‘strict schedule’ energy.”
“Oh? And what energy do I give off?”
His gaze rakes over me, slow and hungry, making my mouth dry. “The kind that makes it hard to think about anything else.”
I huff a laugh. “Careful, Sergeant.”
“Master Sergeant, actually,” he says, voice edged with weight. “Or… it was.”
The words land heavier than I expect. I’m not familiar with all the details of military ranks, but I know enough to recognize that Master Sergeant isn’t just a title. It’s years of leadership and responsibility.
I gaze at him, wondering how much of his past he keeps hidden. “You don’t strike me as someone who likes taking orders.”
His lips twitch. “I’m not.” A pause. “But I was damn good at giving them.”
“Should I drop and give you twenty now, or…?”
His smirk returns. “Wouldn’t hurt. Might actually build some character.”
I scoff. “Yeah, you wish.”
“Alright then,” he says, stepping aside to let me in. “Let’s see if we can at least train your dog, since you’re clearly a lost cause.”
I shoot him a look as I pass, pushing my thoughts away and forcing myself to focus on why we’re here—Arrow’s training. Judging by how he’s already pulling ahead of me, eyes locked on Matt, this won't be easy.
He shuts the door behind us, his voice dropping to that firm, assessing cadence I’m starting to recognize. “There it is.”
“Yeah. This is the problem,” I say, smoothing a hand down Arrow’s back.
Matt nods, circling slowly, his gaze flicking between me and the dog. “This is classic guarding behavior,” he says, head angling as he studies Arrow.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“It means he’s not just holding ground. He’s reading me, trying to decide if I’m a threat to you.”
“Isn’t that normal?” I ask.
“To a degree. But he’s not reacting to what I’m doing—he’s anticipating it.”
Matt’s jaw flexes as he says it, his eyes narrowing slightly. I chew my lip, uneasy. “So how do we fix it?”
“First, we test his response under controlled conditions.” He gestures to the couch. “Take a seat. Keep the leash loose.”
I sit. Arrow plants himself at my feet, body alert. Matt takes a slow step toward me, and Arrow stiffens.
“See that?” Matt’s voice is calm and instructive. “Hackles are flat, so he’s not showing aggression. But look at the rest of him. His weight is forward, ears high, tail stiff. That’s a block.”
“What do I do?”
“We recondition the response,” he says. “Right now, me closing the distance flips his protector switch. We have to teach him that my approach isn’t a threat. It’s good.”
He pulls a treat pouch from his pocket and tosses it to me. “High-value only. Chicken, beef, something he can’t resist. The second he lets go of that tension, you mark and reward.”
I nod. “Got it.”
He takes another deliberate step closer. Arrow leans forward, muscles taut, eyes locked.
“See how tight he is? He’s holding the line. Wait him out.”
I hold steady. Arrow doesn’t growl or lunge, but his eyes are locked on Matt. Then, after a beat, his posture eases—his tail flicks once, ears angling sideways.
“Now,” he cues.
I slip him a piece of chicken, my voice calm. “Good boy, Arrow.”
He takes it after a pause, body looser.
“Nice work. Let’s run it again.”
He steps forward. Arrow’s ears are still forward, but his tail doesn’t stay rigid. He exhales, weight shifting back.
“Reward,” he says.
I give another treat, and he snatches it quicker, tail giving a slight wag.
“Progress,” Matt notes. “He’s starting to connect me getting closer with something good.”
We run the drill again, Matt’s steps closing the distance inch by inch. Arrow still stiffens at first, but each time he settles faster—ears flicking, tail looser, posture softening.
By the fourth round, Matt is right in front of us. Arrow hesitates, eyes darting between him and me, then lowers onto his haunches without a sound.
“Good boy,” I breathe, slipping him another reward, pride swelling in my chest.
Matt watches him a moment longer, then glances at me. “If I were a real threat, you wouldn’t stop him. You’d let him work. That drive is what you want. But here, we’re teaching control. He has to learn the difference—when to engage, and when to stand down. And he has to trust you to call it.”
I study him, sensing the shift behind his words. “I know what you’re thinking. You can just say it.”
Matt exhales through his nose. “Okay. It’s not lost on me that this started recently.”
My chest tightens. “You think he knows?”
“I do,” he says evenly. “Dogs like him, especially Shepherds, pick up on things most people miss. Energy, intent, shifts in the air. He’s keyed in on you.”
A shiver runs through me, as he continues—
“Last night, when the alarm tripped? He wasn’t just reacting to a noise. He went straight to guard. He knows there’s danger circling you. He can feel it.”
“And if he actually makes it inside? What will Arrow do then?”
Matt’s jaw tightens, a grimace flickering across his face. His eyes hold mine. “Do you really want to know?”
My breath catches, but I nod.
“He would tear him apart. No hesitation. He would put himself between you and the threat and end it. That’s what he was bred for.”
For a moment the weight of it hangs between us, my chest tight with the truth in his voice. Then his expression eases, just slightly.
“He did really well today. You both did.”
“I honestly didn’t think it would work this fast.”
Matt grins, the weight in his voice easing. “Well, you’ve never trained with a Master Sergeant before.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, here we go.”
He winks. “Don’t worry, Private. You’ll catch up, eventually.”
And damn it all, I’m smiling too.