After Love (5 page)

Who the hell felt comfortable enough in Jamie's house to take their socks off? When he finished washing up in the bathroom, he joined Jamie in the kitchen and saw there were dirty dishes in the sink. Either she was a terrible housekeeper or she was sharing her house with a very messy person. He wanted to ask, but even with his lax filter, he hesitated to get that personal.

Jamie took a pitcher of cold lemonade out of the refrigerator and poured three big glasses. She handed one to Nick and took one herself.

Nick hadn't drunk straight lemonade in years. Even Grammy spiked hers. “This would taste a lot better with vodka.”

She laughed out loud. “You know, I was thinking the same thing.” She took a bottle of vodka out of the freezer and poured a splash into their glasses.

Nick stirred it with his finger and took a sip. “Better.”

She took a generous drink. “I agree.”

“I guess I'm hopeless,” Nick stated, a little exhausted from the intensity of the search. Most of the dogs were really nice, but there had been no love connection. The thought of spending twelve hours a day with a Labradoodle in his truck made him cringe.

“I had high hopes for Maverick,” Jamie said with a disappointed sigh. “He's got a great nose and is super friendly.”

“Too friendly. I felt more like I was adopting a child than getting a partner.” Nick remembered the chocolate Lab well. The dog had tried so hard to get Nick to like him. Too hard. Nick always liked the challenge of a woman who played hard to get. Maybe he had the same feeling about a dog. He didn't want one that needed his love that much. It was too much responsibility to live up to the dog's exalted opinion of him.

What he wanted was more of an equal. Independent and able to take care of himself to a certain extent and not constantly requiring attention. None of the dogs he'd met today even came close.

Jamie picked up the extra lemonade in one hand and her own in the other. “Let's go back to the kennel. I have an idea,” she said.

Thank God for vodka,
Nick thought as he took his glass and followed her back outside.

Ralph accepted his glass of lemonade gratefully. Jamie, Nick, and Ralph sat on the small bleachers that stood on one side of the arena.

“What dog do you want to try next?” Ralph asked.

“I'm thinking we should give Harley a shot,” she answered.

Ralph's expression was skeptical. “Are you sure?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “I know he's a little antisocial, but he's smart and honest. I think he just needs the right person.”

“Don't we all?” Nick quipped.

Ralph was still not convinced, but he didn't argue as he took his leash and went back down the row.

“What's Harley's story?” Nick asked.

“He's a rescue that belonged to a soldier who was deployed and didn't come home. The boy's parents couldn't have such a big dog in their apartment, so they brought him out here and asked if I could find him a good home,” Jamie explained. “He's a terrific dog, but he's a little too strong-willed for most people. He's an alpha with a capital
A
.”

That didn't scare Nick away. He knew enough about dogs to know that
antisocial
could mean anything from a dog that didn't want any human or other animal contact to a dog that just liked to do his own thing. Dogs were generally pack animals and enjoyed being around other dogs or people. Maybe Harley preferred to go it alone. That was a sentiment to which Nick could relate.

Ralph reentered the arena with a large German shepherd. He was a reddish tan with a large black saddle, ears, and muzzle. There was no denying his beauty and good breeding.

Ralph shut the gate and unclipped the leash.

“Harley, come,” Nick called. The dog studied him with such intensity that Nick almost felt uncomfortable. It was the first time he understood what Jamie had meant about the dog making the choice. Harley was clearly judging the man and trying to decide if he was trustworthy. Nick didn't feel the need to kneel. Harley was in charge.

Finally Harley moved. Decisively and confidently, he trotted directly to Nick and sat down in front of him, his back straight and his head up with ears perked to perfect points as if at attention. His tail thumped once, hopeful but noncommittal.

Nick held his hand out, allowing Harley the chance to smell and accept it. The dog's nostrils flared as he processed the man's scent. He touched Nick's hand with his cold, wet nose and nudged slightly, encouraging further contact. Nick stroked the dog's head. “Hi, Harley. You probably heard through the grapevine that I'm looking for a partner. Are you interested?”

Harley lifted one paw and placed it on Nick's knee. After a moment of looking into the dog's big, chocolate brown eyes, Nick spoke to Jamie over his shoulder. “Why didn't you bring him out earlier?”

“We've had him for only two months, so his training isn't completely finished. It usually takes adult dogs about six months to a year.”

Nick held the ball out for Harley to see and smell, then he threw it across the arena. Harley didn't move a muscle. Maybe he wasn't as bright as he seemed.

“Harley, fetch the ball,” Jamie said.

Harley streaked across the arena, straight for the ball. Even though he hadn't seen it roll behind a bucket by the gate, he knew exactly where it was. He retrieved it and trotted back, the red ball clutched in his teeth.

But instead of taking it to Jamie, he trotted over to Nick and dropped it at the man's feet.

Jamie met Nick's gaze and smiled. “I think you passed the audition.” She turned to Ralph. “Please take Harley back to his kennel.”

Ralph nodded, attached the leash to Harley's collar, and led him away. The dog followed without protest, but at the gate he paused and looked back at Nick for several seconds before obeying Ralph's tug on the leash to continue.

“Let's go into my office,” Jamie suggested. She led the way to a large room next to the storeroom. A skylight broke the monotony of the corrugated barn roof. Oak planks covered the floors, with several throw rugs adding color. While Jamie pulled Nick a beer from the mini fridge in the kitchenette, he checked out the photos, plaques, and ribbons that covered the wall next to the potbelly stove in the corner of the front room. He called out, “Impressive.”

Jamie walked up behind him. “Thanks. Entering my dogs in performance shows is a great way to get noticed. I've got probably ten boxes of trophies and ribbons in the next barn over. My dogs are winners.” She handed a cold bottle of beer to him. “My next project is to build a trophy room just inside this kennel so people who are visiting can't miss it.”

There was a big wooden desk on the front wall and a tall four-drawer metal filing cabinet. Two comfortable-looking recliners were grouped in front of a flat-screen TV. A paneled screen made of rice paper and a black wooden frame divided the room, hiding the area beyond, but Nick could see the foot of an antique iron bed.

“Does someone live in here?” he asked.

“I do.” She indicated one of the recliners and sat on the other. “What do you think about Harley?”

“He was a lot different than the rest.”

Jamie's expression was serious. “Harley hasn't been an easy case.”

“He seems to be well trained.”

“Oh, he's amazing…intelligent and quick to learn. But he just hasn't responded well to us and his surroundings.” Her eyes grew sad. “I think his heart was broken when his master didn't come home.”

“That makes him unadoptable?”

“He's been waiting for the right person…and I think he chose you.” She paused. “I'll be honest. I'm a little hesitant about putting you two together. You're not all in on this whole K9 buddy idea, and Harley needs more than you have to give.”

Nick was a little insulted by her assumption that he couldn't take care of a dog. Sure, he had been thinking the same thing in the beginning, but now that he had gotten used to the idea, he was willing to give it a try. “Contrary to what Bobbi may have told you, I'm very responsible.”

“I don't doubt that. You wouldn't be successful in your career if you weren't. But I don't mean food and water. German shepherds can be one-person dogs. If something happens to that person, they might never be able to recover. I've heard of many cases of dogs dying of a broken heart.”

Nick considered that. On some level he understood. When he'd caught his ex-wife cheating on him, it had destroyed his faith in women and his desire to ever get involved in a long-term relationship again.

“But he's never reacted like he did with you today,” Jamie continued. “I would love for Harley to be able to move on and accept another master. You two could be really good for each other.”

“Are you implying that I'm damaged too?” Nick asked lightly, making it sound like a joke when it was actually a sincere question.

She met his gaze steadily. “Aren't you?”

“Maybe a little,” Nick admitted reluctantly. Her perceptiveness was disconcerting.

“Don't get all weird about it,” she admonished. “I'm not saying it's a bad thing. It's how we cope with the tragedies of life.”

Nick studied her through narrowed eyes. “You too?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, me too. I know what it feels like to lose the love of my life. But I like Harley. He has the potential to be a great dog. I had just about given up hope that he'd be able to accept a new master. Do you think you can handle that?”

In truth, Nick wasn't sure. But he never backed down from a challenge. And he had felt an immediate connection with the dog. Plus, it practically guaranteed that he would get to spend more time with his frustrating, strangely exciting trainer. “I'd like to give it a try.”

Jamie smiled. “Well, then, it's Harley for you.”

“Now what?”

“Are you set up at home for him?”

“Set up? Like what?”

“A dry, clean, warm place for him to sleep at night. A place for his bowls, large ones so he can't tip them over. Dogs like routine, so you need to feed him at approximately the same time every day, make sure his water is always fresh, and walk him regularly. Shepherds shed a lot and can smell a little doggy, so you'll have to figure out how to bathe him at home or find one of those dog-wash places. You also should look for a dog park where you can work on socializing him. We did some, and he did fine, but he'll be in a lot of stressful situations, so he'll need some downtime playing and just being a dog.”

Nick's eyes widened and he felt like his head was going to explode as she rattled off what Harley needed.

Jamie stood and walked to her desk, where she picked up a piece of paper, stuck it on a clipboard, then handed it and a pen to Nick.

“I'll need your phone number and home address. I've got a list of vets and some emergency clinics. I'm sure one will be close to where you live.”

Nick filled out the form and handed the clipboard back to her. “You're painting a pretty dark picture.”

“Having a service dog is a big responsibility. He takes his job seriously and will become very attached to you. Giving him the attention he needs might cut into your personal time.”

“Ha…No problem there. Harley will have more of a social life at the dog park than I do.”

Jamie looked out the window at the dogs in their runs. She spoke wistfully, almost as if she'd forgotten Nick was there. “They'll keep you busy during the day, but they don't do much for long, lonely nights.”

Nick wasn't the most sensitive man on earth, but even he could see that she'd tapped into a darkness that she usually kept tucked away. He wished he had a magic secret he could share that would take her pain away. But he had plenty of haunting memories of his own…his ex-wife, his time in the military, and cases gone horribly wrong. He'd tried all the usual ways to self-medicate. Sometimes they worked; more often they didn't. He suspected Jamie had too…with similar results. “The nights are better when you're not alone,” he commented.

“Sounds like the voice of experience.” She turned her attention back to him. “Why aren't you taking your own advice?”

“I tried marriage, and that didn't work out. I'm not great with relationships.”

“Probably just as well, considering your occupation. Fewer widows that way.”

“I'm careful.”

“Yeah, so was my husband. Right up until the moment a guy stepped up behind him and shot him in the head.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she roughly brushed them away.

Nick remembered the incident. It had been a random case of a guy out to kill a cop, and apparently Jamie's husband had been the unlucky man in uniform the gunman encountered. Nick had been in the area on a case and arrived on Sixth Street shortly after the call went out. Her husband had been lying on the street, next to his patrol car. He hadn't drawn his gun or called for help. It had apparently been a completely unexpected attack in a busy area of Austin that was usually relatively safe. There had been plenty of witnesses, but the guy had never been caught. Nick, along with several thousand other cops and related agencies, had gone to Jamie's husband's funeral. He hadn't paid much attention to the widow then. He'd been to too many funerals, and he'd learned to steel his heart to get through them. From her reaction, it was clear her own wound was still raw, so he didn't think that now was the time for him to discuss any of this with her.

She stood, and Nick knew the interview was over. He followed her out of the kennel. At the bottom of her porch steps, she stopped and gave him a generic smile. Nick knew he wasn't traditionally handsome, but he had a rugged masculinity that most women found charming. Jamie, however, showed absolutely no sign of being the least bit attracted to him. Nick was more disappointed than hurt. She was hot, lonely, and would make a pleasant diversion. Clearly that wasn't going to happen.