Shelter Me, page 12
Gramps had a leash looped around Trooper’s neck.
Eight
MIKE COULD RUN a four-and-a-half-minute mile. He could run a five-minute mile for five miles straight. But his heart was in his throat as he jogged down a simple flight of steps racing to stop a senile old man from slipping away with a newly neutered dog.
Damn it all, he should have thought to take Trooper upstairs with him. He’d come here to help, not cause more problems. He vaguely registered the sound of footsteps behind him, others running, too, but farther back. The sun was setting fast, an orange glow sinking into stretches of deep green fields. Who knew how lost Joshua McDaniel could have gotten? And the dog wasn’t even supposed to be up and around for more than a pee break.
Then he spotted the General shuffling between trees. Mike closed the gap fast, then slowed at the last second so as not to startle the older man. Joshua hobble-walked with an arthritic gait, but those gym shoes of his made fast time. His arms pumped and he may as well have been wearing the Army T-shirt and sweat pants for a real workout.
Mike hitched his hands in his back jeans pockets. “Mind if I ask what you’re doing, sir?”
“I’m just walking the dog, son. Like you should have,” Joshua snapped, irritation crackling like lightning bugs in the early evening. “Guess I’ll have to dock your allowance again.”
“Well, I’m here now so you can go back to the house for supper.” He tried to placate while Sierra and Calvin hung back, waiting.
Joshua shook his head sharply. “Trooper and I are already in a rhythm here.” His shiny white New Balance shoes picked up speed, stomping in short and choppy bursts of anger. “You can go back.”
This was escalating fast. He kept his voice calm, respectful. “Yes, sir, but it’s getting dark. We should head home.”
“I’m a grown man,” Joshua snapped. “I can walk at night if I want.”
There was no debating that stubborn tone. “Do you mind if I walk with you?”
Joshua stopped short and barked in Mike’s face like a drill sergeant. “I don’t need a damn babysitter.”
Tendons stood out in the older man’s neck, a pulse throbbing in his temple. Mike had seen enough combat to know when a person was about to lose it, and this man was seconds away from snapping.
Or throwing punches.
Sierra stepped up and touched the General’s arm lightly. “Gramps . . .”
The General pushed her hand away, hard, knocking her back. Sierra stumbled for a couple of steps before regaining her balance. Mike stepped between them fast, fists clenched. The urge to protect surged. He just hadn’t thought he would ever have to protect her from her own family.
“Sir—”
“Gramps?” Sierra repeated softly.
The General looked around confused, searching for . . . a grandfather. He had no idea who Sierra was or who she was speaking to.
The pained expression on Sierra’s face cut right through Mike. He exhaled hard, searching for the right words to defuse the tension. “We can take the dog on a walk or return to the house. Completely your choice, sir.”
Joshua frowned, glancing down at Trooper, then back up at Mike. “Are you finished with your patrol duty, son?”
The Alzheimer’s had him more disoriented than usual . . . Mike had Googled the disease, and this moment seemed to fit the term “sundowning,” the tendency of a senile person to grow increasingly confused at the end of the day. There was an edge to that in the old man’s behavior right now. A building rage. But then who wouldn’t rage over being trapped inside a body with a diminishing mind? Agitating him would only make things worse. Reminding him of reality wouldn’t accomplish anything. The man existed in this moment like a time traveler, trapped in another era.
“Yes, sir. Next duty shift has arrived.”
“Good, that’s good to know. Time to get back to the barracks, then.” The old man clapped Mike on the shoulders. “Stay safe and keep your head low, soldier.”
Joshua shuffle-walked back toward the house, his shoulders braced even when hunched with age, his grip steady on the leash, although Trooper slowed to match the man’s pace.
Calvin cleared his throat. “Uh, I’ll follow him to make sure he’s safely inside, then I’m gonna hit the road.”
Sierra shook her head. “You don’t have to do that on my account—”
“Hey,” Calvin interjected. “No worries. I really need to head out. You two look like you need a minute to decompress. See you soon, Mike.”
“Roger that. I still owe you a pony keg.” And a lot more. Calvin was a good friend. Strong bonds were forged serving in a combat zone together. “Thanks for your help today.”
Calvin waved aside the gratitude as he jogged to catch up with the General. Mike swallowed hard, his hand clenching around the fence post as he watched silently while the older man walked all the way to the porch. Once they reached the door, Calvin waved again and Trooper looked back as if to say, I’ve got this. He’s safe.
Sierra leaned against Mike’s shoulder with a heavy sigh. “Trooper should really have his cone on.”
Sliding an arm around her waist, he tucked her against his side. “Text your mother. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She pulled against his hold. “I’ll just go back and tell her what happened.”
“We don’t need to go in yet. Give yourself a minute to breathe while we watch the sunset.” He held firm and she relaxed against him. “Has your grandfather gotten that angry before?”
“Everything’s under control.”
“Really?” He looked down into her blue eyes that had aged far more than a year since he’d left for Iraq. “You looked upset by his behavior but not surprised.”
She shrugged. “He has outbursts. The doctor put him on antidepressants. They helped some, but he’s got good reason to be . . . agitated.”
The weight of what she faced daily hit him fully for the first time. He rested his chin on top of her head, her silky hair catching on his late-day beard stubble. “Sierra—”
“I’ll be all right.”
“You don’t have to say that. It’s okay to lean on me. God, if my grandmother Ruby had just spent the past five minutes thinking we’re soldiers in the middle of a war zone, I would be . . . unsettled.”
“That’s an understatement. Try crushed. Frustrated. Stressed.”
“Words are your gig, Scrabble Gal.” He scraped her hair behind her ear. “I’m trying to speak your language.”
“And I appreciate it.” She clasped his wrist. “Are you really going to get in serious trouble with your Sergeant Major?”
“Let me worry about that. You have enough to think about with Gramps there and that council showdown coming up. And did I see some flyer in the barn about a big adoption event in the near future?”
“You did. A Doggie Palooza, an event for dogs lovers in the area. It’s a great chance for positive press in advance of that council meeting.”
“More pressure. Like I said. You have enough on you. Admit it.”
“Life’s definitely dog piling on us lately.” She leaned into his touch, a smile twitching her lips. “Get it, dog pile. We’re in an animal rescue.”
“I got it.” Smiling back, he cradled her face in his palm. The Tennessee sunset cast such a damn beautiful glow around her he could barely breathe. “How could I have forgotten how incredibly beautiful you are?”
Unable to resist, he kissed her, just his lips meeting hers and holding. But it felt like the right kind of reverent kiss for such a mystical sunset and incredible woman. She was so damn strong and brave, holding it together for her family when no one would have faulted her for moving on with her life.
Loyalty like that from relatives wasn’t a given. He knew that all too well. He needed to give himself space to think this through. He owed her better than half measures.
In fact, he owed her father everything, including his life.
And with that sobering thought, he ended the kiss, allowing himself one stroke along her hair before he walked away.
* * *
BY FRIDAY, SIERRA was convinced Mike must have left all his T-shirts in Iraq, because he sure didn’t bother wearing them while he worked.
She hosed off the outdoor part of a kennel run while the dogs played in the yard with volunteers wearing out the pooches before other volunteers bathed them. Perfect time for Sierra to get some extra cleaning and sanitizing accomplished. Or maybe she was just looking for an excuse to be out here where Mike was working on a ceiling fan while shirtless.
She resisted the urge to hose herself off.
Her gaze returned to the V of his back as he reached overhead, his broad shoulders tapering down to narrow hips where the band of his boxers rode just above the low-slung waist of his jeans. Golden skin beaded with sweat. He twisted to adjust a wobbling blade on the fan, turning in a way that put a whole new set of ab muscles on display. Even better? They were right at mouth level since he stood on a stepladder. The urge to walk over there and skim her mouth along his hip was never far from her mind.
Except that he’d pulled away from her after that kiss they’d shared.
She almost wondered if he worked his ass off fixing things just to be sure he stayed at arm’s length now. He’d added a basic security system to the barn, which had alerted them twice to the fact Gramps was wandering into the barn at night to take dogs out for a walk—which solved one mystery. They now knew who was prying open the kennels, even going so far as to break them to release his dog of choice for the night.
Mike had fixed the fences, repaired a leaky faucet, even changed lightbulbs. As an added bonus, they got to hear him play his guitar late into the night, a distant, tuneful strumming that carried on the breeze and helped her fall asleep imagining those nimble fingers playing over her body.
But no more kisses. He didn’t need to. Just one look from him stirred up memories that fired through her. Tempting her.
Focus, damn it. Her mom needed all the help she could get today. The place was full to capacity after helping a shelter confiscate dogs from a hoarder that had started as a rescue, then got out of hand. Hopefully they would be able to find homes for some of them at the Doggie Palooza tomorrow.
Sierra had to commend her mother for setting rigid boundaries for herself in order to never cross that line of taking in too many rescues. Easier said than done some days when area shelters called with pleas for help with this or that animal. Like Lucky, who’d detoxed into a goofy and totally docile little fella, currently licking the inside of a German shepherd’s ears.
Smiling, Sierra finished the last outdoor kennel run and shifted to hosing off the floor of the dog wash area. Dedicated volunteers Charlotte and Debbie were scrubbing a Great Pyrenees named Atlas, a gorgeous, huge dog—bought from a breeder as a puppy and dumped at a shelter once the owners grasped just how big the animal would get. Atlas gave teenage Charlotte a sloppy wet kiss in thanks.
Debbie scratched a lather along the dog’s back, but was clearly distracted staring inside the barn. And Sierra had to say, she couldn’t blame the woman. Mike on that ladder finishing up another fix-it project was a sight to behold. He stretched up, repairing a squeak and wobble in one of the fat-blade ceiling fans. Sexy didn’t come close to describing how mouthwateringly hot he looked as sweat slicked his back, trickling down his spine, lower, lower.
She bit her bottom lip.
Not fair at all, especially when she resembled a drowned rat in purple rain boots. Smelling worse than the stalls before cleaning. Funny thing was, as much as she griped about this, she believed in her mother’s mission. She believed in this animal rescue and the work they did, the lives they saved. But it was getting tougher and tougher to juggle the time here with the demands of her graduate assistantship teaching. What would happen when she went to work full-time after graduation? Would there be enough hours in the day to be a part of the beautiful mission here?
Even if her main contribution lately consisted of hosing out the stalls?
With that thought, she gave a final blast of water along the concrete walkway before closing off the spray of water mixed with a bleach-based cleaning solution. She felt eyes on her and followed the sensation until her gaze traveled back up again, to Mike. She hooked the hose onto the end of a kennel gate and stepped deeper into the barn. Her soggy boots squeaked at the same pitch of the volunteers’ laughter as Atlas shook a monsoon of water and suds on them.
Mike’s eyes stayed locked on her, and she could see him doing the same thing he’d done all week long. He was wrestling with the urge to come closer to her, holding himself back. The memory of their kiss was in his eyes even as he still kept his hands to himself.
“What?” She shifted from foot to foot, boots squeaking and squelching. “Did you need something? A wrench? A glass of iced tea?”
Or a shirt. Or her mouth kissing every inch of that sweat-slicked chest.
“I don’t need anything . . .” A wicked gleam entered his eyes. “Just enjoying the view down your shirt.”
She looked down fast, and sure enough, her soggy T-shirt was drooping in the front, not to mention plastered to her minimal curves. Of course he’d seen every inch of her before without clothes, so she shouldn’t feel so self-conscious. But she did.
Not that she would let him know that.
“I hear there’s a real market for pinups soaked in kennel water and wearing galoshes.”
“You’re even hotter when you talk.” Winking, he gathered up his tools and started down the ladder. “Nice job cleaning, by the way. I’m amazed at how non-dog this place smells.”
He referenced the scent of things a lot, good and bad. She hadn’t noticed until now. She would have to ask him about that sometime.
“I’m just doing my part to get ready for the Doggie Palooza tomorrow. Since we’ll be away most of Saturday, I need to double up on work today.” She leaned a foot back against a kennel gate as he drew closer and closer. “We also get increased adoption traffic after an event like that. It’s important to make a good impression, especially with the council meeting coming up. Your help couldn’t have come at a better time.”
He stepped off the ladder, muscles flexing in his jeans. Then that incredible chest of his came into close-up view. “What happens to all these animals if your mom’s rescue shuts down?”
His question made her chest go tight. The sanctuary they ran offered shelter to precious lives that had nowhere else to go. This wasn’t just a second chance. For them, the animals in their care, it was the last chance. She peeled off her gloves.
“I don’t know exactly. Depends on how long we have to vacate them from the property. I guess first step, Mom stops taking in new animals and focuses on moving these as quickly as possible into forever homes.” Except the litter of pit puppies weren’t old enough for adoption, which meant they would have to find another rescue willing to take them when rescues were already full enough. And people weren’t exactly lining up to adopt pit bulls.
Mike reached just past her to grip the kennel gate. “If she sells this spread and moves into a regular place, you would be able to go off to school.”
“And my grandfather would end up in a nursing home.” Her stomach lurched like that moment a roller coaster flipped upside down.
“Eventually, he will anyway,” Mike said gently.
She scrunched her nose. “What are you? The reality police?”
His forehead scrunched. “Forget I said that. I’m still in combat mode.”
She nodded simply, understanding too well. She’d seen her dad after deployments often enough to know it took a while for them to decompress. She should have remembered that for Mike. He’d been through . . . she didn’t even know what since she hadn’t bothered to ask about him. She’d been focused on her own loss. Her own grief. Maybe that was the explanation for his unpredictable behavior.
“How about you take a break, Mike? Go shower—” Put on a freaking shirt. “And I’ll have some food ready for you over at the house. You must be starving.”
“Correct you are,” he conceded with a wink. “You’re too good, you know that, right?”
“Puh-lease. The last thing I want or deserve is a Saint Sierra label.”
“Fair enough.”
They’d spent a week together, and for some reason he’d backed off after that last kiss. Sure, she’d been telling herself—and him—they couldn’t pick up where they left off. Still, she couldn’t stop fantasizing about taking that kiss further. Maybe they needed to talk about that if they were going to spend three more weeks living together—or rather, living next door to each other.
“Once we eat lunch, want to go with me to take Trooper for a walk? He’s chomping at the bit to ditch that cone and run. I’d like to drain some energy from him before the event tomorrow. Even though he’s not up for adoption, we’re hoping all the press about him will bring people to our booth at the event.”
“What if we end up in the woods on that walk? Alone is . . . dangerous. I might back you against a tree to kiss you. A real kiss this time.”
There he went with those mixed messages again. Flirting but not touching.
“Do saints kiss?” she asked flippantly. “I’m honestly not sure . . .” Not sure now about the walk or what game they were playing. “This is strange.”
“How so?”
To hell with waiting for the walk. She glanced over at the open doors to make sure Debbie and Charlotte were still occupied outside with rinsing off Atlas.
Sierra angled closer, lowering her voice. “You kiss me, then pretend for a week like nothing happened. Like the past year never happened. Even stranger, it’s as if we’re playacting that you were never gone. But you have been away and so much is different. We’ve both been scarred by this deployment.”
His eyes shuttered. “You’re the one who lost a dad. You’re the one with cause to grieve.”
“You went to war. I realize that leaves marks.” She also knew better than to touch him right now or he would bolt before they had a chance to finish this conversation. “Even without what happened this year I can look at my grandfather and see that. The more he loses touch with the present, the more I see how his past in the military is so much more a part of him than his history as a father or husband.”
