Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Hard not to.”
“Pizza,” he groaned.
“Pizza,” she conceded. “Do I get to pick what I want for dessert?”
“As long as I’m part of it, of course.” He hopped off and slipped his hand in hers. The gesture while simple meant more than she wanted to admit.
They watched a movie while they ate, and she cleaned up since he’d prepared the food. After bedding down the kennel dogs for the night, they brought up more wood and got her dogs situated as well. Then he took her back to the couch and drew her down to lay against him before the fire.
“What got you into doing dog training?”
“My parents were cops. My dad was a K-9 officer. He had built the training facility here to help his connection with his partner. Leelo, was his first one. She was a Dutch shepherd. I was just small, but I would spend hours out there watching them work. When I got my first dog, my dad put me out on the course and Sparky—who was a lab—and I would go through the course as well. Nothing nearly as good as dad but it grew on me. I joined a training class and started competing by age nine in the ring. I’ve seen a lot of trainers both good and bad and I’ve implemented what works for me. I’ve studied wolves and see how their hierarchy works, as well as other pack animals.”
He shifted and lay a leg out along the back of the couch then readjusted her to lie back against him. She snuggled close, enjoying being in his arms.
“When we lost mom to cancer, he stopped going out as much and became an instructor. So, then this building went up and he began holding classes out here. I was teaching them by the time I was in high school. The older dad got the more of the teaching I took over, but he was still there, watching, correcting, offering up his suggestions. All the while he was dropping hints, we should have a kennel as well. So, eventually that went up.”
“When did you lose him?”
Her heart clenched and tears burned the insides of her lids. “It’s been a while now. He’s been gone for eight years.”
His lips moved along her temple. “I’m sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose my mom.”
She rubbed his forearm. “What about your father?”
“Some deadbeat, not sure. Left us when Davis was months old and she was pregnant with me. I guess he’d changed a diaper and found it to be much more difficult than lifting a beer to his lips. So, it became that going out for something reason and not ever coming back.”
“For what it’s worth, your mom did a super job in raising you.”
“She is a hell of a woman. She’ll like you.”
More of that talk which indicated a future. She tried not to let it take root and grow more hope, but it was a futile effort attempting to stop it. Shit worked like it ate fifty pounds of MiracleGro.
“How did you get into SRT?”
“Walking a beat just didn’t hold the appeal for me. Nothing wrong with it, just I am addicted to the adrenaline. And when we get a call, it’s a situation that has that pumped up.”
“Any women on your team or just men?”
“Men. We had a woman on the team once, but she was off for maternity leave before I went under. Although I wouldn’t put it past her to have tried to suit up even knocked up.”
She smiled at the visual. “Are you busy?” She moved and stretched out her toes. “I mean, were you called out a lot?”
“It rode different highs and lows. We could be balls to the wall one day and nothing the next. I loved the uncertainty how you never knew if you would be in house all day or if you’d be going through the city in your truck.”
“You sound like a little kid in a toy or candy store.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I hate that bad shit happens, but I love my job.”
And there went part of the root holding down that newfound hope for a future. “I can hear that in your voice. Not to mention if you didn’t, I doubt you would have given it up to help out another agency.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t become a cop if both parents were in blue.”
“A lot of people, were but in truth I’m much better with dogs than people. I don’t do so well with them. I tend to find them annoying and unfortunately stupid, worrying about petty items and let’s face it, nasty. Dogs aren’t mean.” She yawned and checked the fire. “Besides, when I was ten, dad told me I couldn’t be a cop.”
“He told you that?”
“Yes. I was busy telling another child how wrong they were for how they had the collar on their dog and wasn’t being very nice about it. According to him, the tact that made people good cops had missed me by a few galaxies.”