Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Can’t we train him without a leash?” Chris grimaced, eying all the leashes Rory had set out. “Poor guy loves to be free.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Rory held a tab leash while they stood in his backyard, Bear sitting obediently at her side, watching them with curiosity.
Somehow in the last two hours, Rory had already managed to get Bear to sit, speak, and do a bunch of other things using the Dutch commands he’d learned in the Navy before being booted.
“Yeah, you have to be toying with me since you must know a thing or two about canines, or you wouldn’t have been so eager to have one join your company. ”
He wanted Rory’s help, though. Someone with the proper training, and also, he’d wanted her around. Period.
He was fairly certain Bear wasn’t untrainable—he just hadn’t had the proper motivation back in Little Creek.
And it was looking like Rory was just the kind of motivation Bear needed to join the teams.
Rory took sexy to a whole new level in her jeans, cowgirl boots, and light denim button-down shirt open with a fitted white tank beneath. And whenever she spoke with that gorgeous Southern accent, he wanted to heel like Bear or follow whatever other orders she doled out.
Last night had been amazing with her, too.
Dancing at the party. Even line dancing and two-stepping, something he’d never thought he’d do, had been perfect somehow.
Watching her interact with his friends. His dog.
And then when they were finally alone at his place, it’d taken all of his restraint not to dip in for a kiss.
She’d straight-up ordered him not to fall for her the day she agreed to train Bear.
He could tell she was a heartbreaker, and at the time, he brushed aside her warning, hoping she hadn’t really meant it.
But after what amounted to only two days, he had the distinct feeling he would most definitely suffer that fall she’d warned him against.
“Admit it,” she said in an accusatory tone.
“I might know a little,” he finally gave in.
“Can I ask you something?” She traced the lines of her silhouette, distracting the hell out of him before her hands settled on her hips.
“Anything.”
She shot him the cutest of scowls. “You’re staring.”
“I can’t help it,” he admitted while he knelt next to Bear and ran his hands along the dog’s sleek flanks, petting him.
Chris needed a little interference, some distraction, to prevent himself from getting into trouble and flirting.
Breaking another one of her rules. “So, what was it you wanted to ask me?”
“Did you honestly expect me to be here for only a few weeks? It normally takes months to turn a dog into a military working canine. Bear has had a head start. You, however, are going to need significantly more training as his handler. So, what was your plan? First step, get me here. Second step, trap me?”
He did like the idea of trapping her, but more so pinned beneath his body while she called out his name in sweet ecstasy.
“Staring again,” she said, a laugh in her tone, though.
“I know you weren’t planning on staying long,” he said, hating there would be any type of expiration date on their time together.
She huffed out a breath. “I’ll get you both started, but we’ll need to find someone local who can take over after. I can’t possibly stay here for four months.”
“Why not?” He smoothed his hand down Bear’s back and looked up at her. It was worth a try, right?
“Because I need to get my business going in New Orleans, and—”
“I’ll double the pay.” He stood to face her. “Triple.”
“It’s not about money,” she said, her tone softer this time.
“It’s about me, right? That’s too long to be around me.”
“Why would you think that?”
He shook his head. “I, uh, never mind.”
She turned toward the house in what he viewed as silent reflection. Maybe still considering his comment.
“Don’t make a decision now. If it makes you feel better, I’ll have some people on standby who can help out if you need to leave.”
Rory slowly faced him, shielding her eyes from the sun.
“But please, give us a chance.” He dropped down in front of Bear and gently held on to the sides of his head. “I mean, how can you resist this face?” When Chris twisted his neck back to catch her eyes again, a smile touched her lips.
“There’s going to be a lot to do. Teaching him how to sniff out explosives and people. Then there are the takedowns. You also have to build a rapport. A bond.”
Chris kept one hand on Bear, softly stroking his mane. “You’re more worried about whether I’ll be obedient than him, huh?”
“Maybe.” She smiled. “More like yes.”
He returned his attention to Bear. “But we’ve got this, right, buddy?” Chris reached for his paw and shook it. “We can show her you’ve got what it takes to be a Teamguy.”
“Dog,” Rory corrected, and he swiveled his head to peer at her again, the sun still beating down, making her mass of blonde hair golden and shimmery.
“Right. Team dog.” But then a depressing thought occurred to him.
With a heavy sigh, he let go of Bear and stood.
“I just don’t know if I can send him in to clear houses or check for explosives and risk something happening to him. Look at how innocent he is.”
“How often did dogs save you guys in Iraq? Afghanistan? How many lives were saved because of our hero dogs?”
Chris sealed his eyes closed, a memory ripping through his mind. “Jupiter was an awesome dog. He went into a house,” he said around a swallow and opened his eyes, “and he never came out.”
“I’m sorry.” She stepped closer and set a hand to his shoulder, a soft, comforting look in her hazel irises. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”
“It takes a special kind of animal to be a CAD.”
“Combat assault dog,” she said with a nod.
“It’s hard to stomach the idea of putting Bear’s life on the line, though. I mean, the guys I work with, we rush into danger, never knowing if we’ll make it back out, but we knowingly signed up for that, but the dogs—”
“The competition for SEAL canines is almost as fierce as going through BUD/S from what I’ve heard, so I assume those dogs wanted to be on the Teams, or they would have purposefully failed out. So, in a way, they signed up, too.”
She was trying to make him feel better, but she was also right about the canine selection for the Teams. “I’ve always wanted a dog.
They’re loyal. They don’t abandon you. Maybe the only animal that loves you more than themselves.
” He let go of a deep breath, and it felt like a bunch of pent-up shit went with it.
“I mean, my friends are loyal. Of course. And . . .”
“Trust me, I get it.” Rory peered at Bear.
“There’s a reason I love animals and am fiercely protective of them.
I worked at a rescue shelter every summer while in high school in Birmingham.
Some of the animals . . . broke my heart.
But every time a Belgian Malinois was brought in, and that was a rare instance, well, I’d swear my heart sang around them. ” Rory crouched to observe Bear.
Could this woman get any better? Damn.
“Belgian Malinoises are great. Medium-sized build. Slender and athletic.” Bear tipped his snout toward her face as he lay with paws crossed in the grassy area.
“Intelligent and alert. Protective. Some say these dogs are the secret weapon at the White House. I guess y’all would know, given Knox’s dad. ”
Chris knelt alongside her again, resting his forearms on his jeaned thighs.
“You know, I heard Cairo’s handler fed Cairo steak and let him sleep in his bed, too.
And Cairo was brought on the bin Laden raid,” he deflected, hoping to shift the conversation away from the subject of POTUS or what Chris and the guys may or may not know about what went on at the White House.
“I even think Cairo was more laid-back than most dogs. Sweet disposition when he didn’t have to tear up an enemy.
So, I’m betting you’re like Cairo,” he said, changing his voice as if talking to a baby, and Bear released a happy yelp of pleasure.
“Maybe one of these days.” Rory snatched a tennis ball, rose, and tossed it, sending Bear to his feet and shooting across the field as the ball arced and bounced. “But first, you need to establish your relationship as his handler. The pack leader always sleeps on higher ground.”
“Be the alpha.” Chris folded his arms and watched Bear trotting back toward them. Bear set the ball down, his pink tongue lolling out of his mouth with what looked like a grin on his face.
“Roughhousing and tug-of-war teach Bear it’s okay to challenge your authority. Fun, even,” she said before throwing the ball again. “I think you both might need the four P’s: praise, patience, practice, and prevention.”
“I do love a little praise.” He side-eyed her and winked, and she swatted his arm.
Chris was well aware of the four P’s. And everything he’d done wrong with Bear before showing up to request her help in New Orleans. She’d called him on his act straight up—an attempt to lure her into coming by making it appear he wasn’t capable of handling Bear without her.
“Results should happen within seven to nine seconds of a verbal command, or hand signal, or he won’t be able to connect the dots.”
“I think you’ve used that tactic on me,” he joked, then grabbed the ball Bear returned and threw it, far enough to send it beyond the fence. He watched with surprise as Bear bounded right over without much effort.
“Anyway,” she said, teasing the word out through glossy lips.
“I know Bear can do this, and so can I.” Chris added a confident nod. “Those who want something the most get it done.”
“And that’s you, huh?”