Through the kitchen window, I watch Sniper outside. He’s sprawled out on the lawn, his head between his paws. From his relaxed posture, I can tell he’s in doggy slumberland.
“He’s a good dog,” I say out of need to keep the conversation rolling.
“He is.”
I turn back to regard Kellan. “You say you adopted him?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I have nothing but time, as you must have gathered.” I point at my ankle.
He lets out a laugh. “With a sprained ankle, you have indeed.”
He puts the first aid kit aside and takes a seat beside me. Together we turn to watch Sniper.
“He’s a military working dog who was supposed to be put down,” Kellan says.
“Really? But why? He’s so sweet.” I cannot help but be disgusted. “Besides, as a military working dog, he’s probably very useful.”
“He was.” Kellan pauses, hesitating. “Sniper was one of the best in the service. He was trained to find booby traps, bombs and mines, track enemy troops and missing persons. All you had to do was let him familiarize himself with a scent and he’d run off and find the person. He was relentless.” He shakes his head in admiration, his eyes lost in reminiscence. “He saved so many soldiers. But then…”
I hold my breath. “But what?”
“His owner died in a bomb blast, and he stopped listening to anyone.”
“He was supposed to be euthanized for not following?” I ask incredulously.
“It was more than that. He started to attack people that got too close. Every loud sound was traumatic for him. It got so bad, he wouldn’t eat. He wouldn’t let anyone touch him. He wouldn’t work.” Kellan glances to me. “He was deemed dangerous, uncontrollable, useless.”
“Until you saved him.”
He nods again. “I did because I felt that I had to.” His voice is so low it sends a shiver down my spine.
“What do you mean?” I ask breathlessly.
He looks away, taking his time with a reply. His eyes are glazed over as he stares into the distance, his mind a million miles away.
“Sniper’s owner was my best friend,” Kellan whispers at last. “When she died, I felt like I owed it to her to take him in.”
I stare back at the dog, thousands of questions running through my mind.
His best friend was female and she was a soldier. I can’t imagine someone like Kellan being friends with a woman, and most certainly not with one who fought for her country.
Heck, I can’t even imagine him living on a farm.
And yet, it seems to be the case.
It’s as if Kellan’s a completely different kind of person than the one I imagined him to be. The flirtatious side of him is just the beginning. I feel like I’ll have to peel back layers over layers, remove piece by piece of him, to get to know him.
Maybe he isn’t as bad as I thought.
Maybe underneath the player he’s portraying, he’s a real person with emotions, someone who is capable of forming meaningful attachments.
“I’m glad you adopted him,” I say softly. “And I’m so sorry about your loss.”
He nods, and then the awful silence resumes.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“You’re cold,” Kellan says, misinterpreting the brief tremor rocking my body. Or maybe he’s just as eager to drop the subject.
I nod, suddenly seeing my chance to escape this situation.
Our conversation.
Him.
“I’ll take you to the living room,” he says.
“No, Kellan.”
Ignoring my half-hearted protest, he lifts me off the chair and carries me inside, only stopping when we reach the couch. Slowly, he sets me down, arranges a few cushions behind my back, and then wraps a blanket around me—the motion is so intimate, it makes me uncomfortable.
I don’t like a guy taking care of me because I fear that one moment in the future when I involuntarily let my guard down, and his guard is still up. Like any other human being, rejection doesn’t agree with me.
Kellan’s impossibly good looks aren’t the actual danger to my inner equilibrium. It’s all the small things he seems to do and not make a big deal out of. Like riding home with me and making sure I’m not freezing my ass off.
Been there. Done that. Never again.
Just like him, I have my own emotional baggage. Just like him, I’m not willing to try again.
“I’ll bring you something to drink,” Kellan says and heads out of the living room, finally leaving me enough space to breathe.
In his absence, I relax against the cushions. The sun is streaming in through the open curtains, bathing the mahogany wood in an orange glow.