Baby, Hold On (7 page)

Mike did a double take. “With you? Alone?”

She remembered his reluctance to leave when she’d groomed Sheridan. It dawned on her that man and dog had probably spent very little time apart. “Yes—with me, alone.”

“But he should be training today. We only have three more days, and he’s not ready.”

“A break might be good for both of you.” And she needed a break from the ballooning attraction she felt for the soldier.

He looked lost and for a moment, her heart went out to him. But she stood her ground. “We’ll be back this afternoon.”

“O
kay
. I’ll give you a ride into town.”

“No, thanks, we’ll walk,” she said breezily. “See you later.”

She felt his gaze burning into her as they walked away from the cabin. But if the man was loath to let his animal out of his sight, Sheridan felt no such compunction. The dog trotted along in front of her on the newly paved road along Clover Ridge where houses were springing up right and left. In fact, the Armstrong brothers themselves were building new homes here along the point where they’d grown up. She was pleased that Sheridan didn’t flinch at the noise of the machinery when they walked past the construction sites, but he did avoid a sprinkler watering a newly sodded yard.

Clover Ridge was a beautiful spot, she conceded, soaking up the postcardworthy view of sprawling blue valley, rolling green hills and soaring red-clay mountains. The walk took them past one of the community’s cemeteries, a hallowed place that was well kept and dotted with cheerful flowers. Sheridan explored at will on the end of his long leash. She was pleased to see his ears perked, his tail wagging. He was more alert and focused, more curious and inquisitive.

Once they reached the sidewalks of Sweetness, she closely observed how he responded to people and other dogs. He remained calm, even when dogs greeted him enthusiastically, but he didn’t relinquish the pink bone to return the welcome.

Lacey stopped by Here Comes the Groom to check on things, gratified to see Betsy was handling everything with her normal competence and good cheer. Lacey spent an hour in the office catching up on paperwork. She allowed Sheridan to roam free in the closed-off area, encouraged by his willingness to explore on his own.

Afterward, she went by the hair salon for a trim. She secured Sheridan to the railing out front—dog tie-ups were as prevalent in town as bike racks. Two other dogs were already there—a cute little French bulldog named Lady, and a Border collie named Ricci, both clients of Lacey’s. She greeted the dogs with a scratch and a pat, relieved to see that although Sheridan wasn’t overly friendly, he didn’t object to their company. She made sure a water bowl was within easy reach, then went inside. The hair salon was a hub of activity, always hopping and always the gristmill for local gossip.

Her friend Traci Miles smiled wide and swept an arm toward a vacant chair. “Sit down and tell me all about that yummy man you’re living with.”

“Yes, do tell,” Julie Whelk said from the next chair.

Lacey’s cheeks warmed. “I’m not living with Mike Nichols. I’m just staying there to help with his dog, Sheridan.”

The women exchanged knowing glances and said, “Uh-huh,” in unison.

Lacey squirmed. She wasn’t sure what frustrated her most—the fact that people thought she and Mike Nichols were fooling around…or the fact that people were wrong.

Traci pinned a drape around Lacey’s shoulders. “What can I do for you, hot stuff?”

Lacey sighed at her reflection—the humidity had turned her curly hair into a nightmare. No wonder Mike hadn’t tried to kiss her again. “What
can
you do?”

Traci angled her head. “How about a trim and a blowout?”

“That sounds painful.”

Traci laughed. “It’ll straighten your hair…some. Temporarily, of course.” She leaned down. “Muscle man will love it.”

Lacey was flustered. Mike probably
was
attracted to women who were more well groomed and who dressed less flamboyantly. “I’m game, as long as it doesn’t take too long. Sheridan is tied up outside.” Where she sat, she had an easy view of him through the window.

“I’ll have you out of here in a jiffy.”

The women quizzed her mercilessly about Mike, but her protests that they had no carnal knowledge of one another sounded false even to her own ears. Her permanent blush didn’t do her any favors. True to her word, Traci finished the trim and the “blowout” in record time. Lacey couldn’t believe the transformation in the mirror—she looked polished and demure.

“Yes, it’s me,” she said to Sheridan, who first approached her timidly when she came back outside. “Did you have fun getting to know your neighbors?” The fact that he’d socialized with the other animals without becoming stressed spoke volumes for his improvement.

She stopped at the boardinghouse to pack a couple more outfits. With her new hairstyle in mind, she changed into a khaki skirt and plain white T-shirt from the back of her closet. She wondered if the woman in the mirror was more like the women Mike Nichols was normally attracted to.

“One more stop,” she told Sheridan, then led him to the clinic where she had an appointment to get a tetanus booster. Secured to the dog railing outside was Nigel, Rachel Hutchins’s pug. Lacey greeted the dog heartily, who offered his paw. Two young towheaded boys she recognized as the Tyler twins walked up with their mother and asked if the dogs were friendly.

“Yes,” Lacey said, “but it’s always good to ask first. Offer your hand to them with your fingers down and curled under, like this.” She demonstrated, and the boys followed her instructions. Nigel licked them in response, happy to receive their small-handed pats. Sheridan’s tail wagged when they petted him, although he didn’t relinquish the pink bone.

“Can you really talk to animals?” one of the boys asked her, his eyes wide.

“Benjamin,” his mother admonished.

“Well, it’s what people say,” the boy insisted.

“It’s okay,” Lacey told Mrs. Tyler with a laugh, then looked back to the boy. “All of us can communicate with animals—you’re doing it right now. You’re being kind and friendly, and animals understand that.”

The boy’s face lit up, then their mother prompted them to say goodbye and they went on their way.

Lacey was fastening Sheridan’s leash to the railing when a friendly voice rang out. “Hello, Lacey.”

She looked up and smiled at Emily Armstrong, the matriarch of the Armstrong family. Emily was pretty and rounded and always had a kind word for everyone.

“Hi, Emily. How are you?”

“Fine, my dear, just taking Chaz for a walk.”

The Jack Russell terrier bounded up to Sheridan and yapped happily. Sheridan dipped his head in greeting, but when the small dog tugged on the pink bone, Sheridan emitted a low growl.

Shocked, Lacey said, “Sheridan, no.”

Emily reined in Chaz’s leash. “Is he dangerous?”

“No. But Chaz gave him that toy last week and he’s gotten attached to it.”

“Perhaps we should go,” Emily said.

Lacey nodded with remorse. “I’m sorry.”

After the woman and her dog walked away, Lacey studied Sheridan. He glanced at the water bowl longingly, but seemed unwilling to put down the toy. Lacey lifted the water bowl to his mouth and allowed the toy to soak up enough moisture for him to draw on.

Then a thought hit her. The toy symbolized weakness to Mike. But what if it symbolized something else to Sheridan, something more than a plaything?

She dashed inside the clinic to reschedule her appointment, then walked back to the cabin as quickly as she could. When the cabin came into sight, she spotted Mike out front, washing his SUV. While her mind raced, her body reacted to seeing him shirtless, wearing only running shorts and sneakers. As his powerful limbs moved, his bronze skin glistened under the sun and water droplets from the spigot he held.

He took her breath away. Before she knew it, she was jogging in his direction. She and Sheridan were still a few yards away when he noticed them. He turned off the water hose and strode toward them.

“Is everything okay?” he called.

“Yes,” she said, a little winded. “Can I see the footage from your last assignment again?”

“Sure,” he said, stopping to scratch Sheridan’s neck before heading to the cabin. “But why?”

“Just a theory,” she hedged.

He walked up onto the porch and over to a table where his cell phone lay. “How did he behave without me?”

“Fine.” Was it her imagination, or did he seem disappointed?

He picked up his phone and punched in a few entries, then held it out to her. It was hard to concentrate on the footage with him standing so close to her. She watched the small screen, focusing on Sheridan. When she saw a flash of pink, she said, “Pause it.”

He did, then asked, “What do you see?”

“The pink article you’re offering to Sheridan—what was it?”

He bit his lip, as if trying to recall. “That was a sweater for a little girl who was missing.”

“How did it go?”

“It was a difficult search—the neighborhood where the girl lived was destroyed. And then the storm blew in, but Sheridan wouldn’t stop searching.”

“How did the search end?” She held her breath.

“Thankfully, someone found the girl. She escaped with only a few scrapes.”

“Someone found her—not Sheridan?”

“Right. She had run to her grandmother’s house, ending up several streets from where we were.”

“You said an SAR dog’s reward is when he finds what he’s looking for and gets his treat.”

“That’s right.”

“What happens when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for?”

“Sometimes we plant volunteers or other handlers in the debris, just to reward the dog so he doesn’t get discouraged.”

“And is that what happened in Missouri?”

Again, Mike had to think. “No. The storm blew in and the conditions were so hazardous, we didn’t want to risk putting a plant in the rubble.”

“So maybe he did get an electric jolt, and now he associates loud noises and water and the color pink—if he can even tell something’s pink-with the frustration of an unfinished mission.”

Mike pulled on his chin. “That’s a stretch.”

“But worth pursuing?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Take the toy from him, but this time, use it to let him find me.”

He splayed his hands. “We have nothing to lose at this point.”

Speak for yourself,
she thought. Because she realized when she’d returned and set eyes on Mike that she was head over heels for him.

He squinted. “You look…different.”

Good God, was it written all over her face?

“Did you change your hair?”

She’d forgotten. Lacey gave a nervous laugh and lifted a hand to finger the unfamiliar sleek texture. “Yes.”

“And your clothes?”

She looked down at the preppy outfit. “Yes.”

“Hmm, pity.”

Lacey blinked.

Then he looked at Sheridan and clapped his hands. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Chapter Ten

Mike tried to listen as Lacey suggested a plan for allowing Sheridan to complete his unfinished mission. But he was so distracted by the shape of those pink lips he hadn’t yet kissed, he barely heard what she was saying.

Besides, she’d already said the magic words
take the toy from him,
and that’s all he needed to hear to be on board.

While Sheridan was napping, Mike removed the pink toy from the dog’s bed, then extended it to Lacey. “We need your scent on it.”

She suddenly looked nervous. “How does this work?”

“Dogs follow the scent of human skin cells that are constantly being sloughed off when we sleep or sit or walk,” he explained. “They can even detect skin cells that are expelled through the exhaust of a car a person is riding in.”

“Amazing. What’s the best way to get my skin cells onto the toy?”

“Allow me,” he said, then took the stuffed toy and proceeded to drag it lazily over one shapely arm, then the other. And although it wasn’t necessary, he couldn’t resist the temptation of leaning over to drag the toy down one toned leg, then up the other, ending midway up her thigh, at the hem of her skirt. The woman had a hot little body, and considering how she’d rejected his kiss that first night, this might be the closest he’d ever get to it.

His sex hardened and he set his jaw against the lust that bolted through him. Being so close to Lacey in the tiny cabin these past several days had kept him on a slow burn, and he was ready to ignite. He stood slowly, hoping she didn’t notice his erection.

“N-now what?” she asked, keeping her gaze above his waist, he noticed.

“Now,” he started hoarsely, then cleared his throat. “Now you take a walk and hide somewhere out of sight so he can track and find you.”

“How far?”

“It doesn’t have to be miles, just enough to make him work for it. I’ll text you when we leave here, so you can get into place.”

She nodded, then left the cabin.

Mike stared at the closed door and rubbed at a sudden twinge in his chest. There it was again—the same sense of loss he’d felt when Lacey had left this morning with Sheridan. He told himself at the time he was uncomfortable handing his dog over to someone else, but he now admitted he’d grown accustomed to Lacey’s laugh and the way she seemed to bring light and softness to everything she touched.

Sheridan would miss her when they left Sweetness.

Twenty minutes later, his dog roused from his nap and as expected, began frantically searching for the toy Mike held behind his back.

“Sheridan, come,” Mike said, and was relieved when the dog obeyed.

Mike revealed the toy. “Sheridan, this is Lacey.” He held out the toy, knowing this was the test: Would the dog take it and run back to his bed, or would he go into tracking mode.

“Sheridan, this is Lacey,” he repeated, then gave the toy a shake.

Sheridan barked, then shoved his nose into the toy for a couple of big sniffs, and barked again.

Mike was almost weak with relief. “Sheridan, find Lacey. Find Lacey.”

Sheridan barked again, on full alert as he dropped his nose to the ground and began to sniff. This would be tough, Mike knew, because Lacey’s scent was all over the cabin. But the old Sheridan would keep sniffing until he found the freshest scent.