Welcoming the Bad Boy: A Hero's Welcome Novel (8 page)

Heart pounding, she looked away, redirecting her attention to Helen, who took another small bite of her sandwich.

It was only seven forty-five on a Tuesday morning and the sun was already cooking the back of Griffin’s neck as he stood with a couple of the guys from the K-9 unit and watched a local high school class file in through the gate of the outer fence. They started walking toward a set of bleachers that faced another fenced-in obstacle course for the dogs. It was “Training Tuesday.” Every Tuesday there was time slotted for demonstrations like this one. It was a way to show off the dogs and shine a positive light on the K-9 unit.

Griffin planned on keeping a tight hold on Jaws today. He’d do the obstacle course with him, but that was it. “You be a good listener out there, boy,” he told the dog at his feet. Jaws looked up with large, dark eyes and wagged his tail. Griffin had a sneaking suspicion that Jaws wouldn’t be a lifer in the K-9 unit like Trooper had been.

The teens sat. They were loud with laughter and chatter. Griffin watched as the boys leaned in to the girls, flirting. The girls would laugh, run a hand through their hair, and the cycle would continue. Life was so simple for teens, he thought, turning as Troy approached with his K-9, Bear.

Jaws’s body went rigid.

“Relax,” Griffin said, using his tone of voice to command the dog. Griffin waited for Jaws to soften before turning to Troy. “Hey, man. Ready for this?”

Troy grinned. “It’s your turn to do the question-and-answer.” He rubbed his hands together excitedly in front of him. Bear went on alert at his master’s hand gesture.

“Bullshit. I did it two weeks ago.”

Troy nodded. “And Carson is out. It’s your turn again, man. I hope you get some real brain-suckers.”

Griffin’s shoulders sagged. He didn’t mind running the obstacle courses, but he hated opening the floor to questions. Not that the questions were ever hard, but they tended to be exhausting. And the naïveté of the questions always sounded like the kids thought he and the guys just sat around doing tricks with the dogs all day. “Fine.” Looking at his watch, Griffin decided he’d take the next ten minutes before the demonstration started to drain a second cup of coffee. He was going to need the extra caffeine to survive the morning.

Ten minutes later, caffeinated and resigned to his fate, he walked in front of the group of students. After a quick introduction, he told the students how the morning was going to work. First, they were going to watch the dogs run a few obstacle courses. Then they’d see how the dogs sniffed out things like drugs and bombs. Lastly, there’d be a Q&A.

A student wearing a yellow ball cap raised his hand. Maybe he’d missed the bit about doing the Q&A at the end of the hour.

Griffin took a breath before responding, coating his voice with a smile. “Yeah, buddy? What’s up?”

“So, what do you actually do with the dogs?”

Griffin kept his smile in place. “Watch and see.” He walked through the gate, entering the fenced-in obstacle course area with Jaws. Troy had taken Bear back to the kennel and was now wearing a padded suit. That was another job that Griffin despised. Role-playing the “bad guy” so that the dogs could practice ripping you to shreds wasn’t as fun as it sounded.

Griffin gave a few commands to Jaws, pretending to be on a scene. Troy stood fifty feet away doing his best to look shady in a bite suit. No matter how hard he tried, though, Troy was too boy-next-door to look the part of a criminal.

Griffin went through the regular skit. He asked Troy what he was doing and why. Troy, in character now, stumbled around, acting drunk. He shoved Griffin and a deep growl rumbled through Jaws’s muzzle.

Jaws was trained not to attack unless ordered, though. Or unless his partner was in jeopardy. Jaws waited, tense and ready for a fight.

Griffin and Troy exchanged a smile, hearing the commotion from the bleachers. The students always loved this part the best.

Troy pretended to throw a punch and, instead of sitting and waiting for the order, Jaws leapt up, grabbing the arm of the padded suit.

He’d attacked without a command. Again.
Damn it.
Griffin had put in extra hours lately training Jaws. The K-9 unit didn’t keep liabilities around for long.

But Griffin didn’t give up on his partners, either.

“Off!” Griffin ordered, using his most domineering voice. Jaws hesitated and then relaxed, releasing his grip on Troy’s suit and returning to Griffin’s side. The students wouldn’t know the difference. They had no idea that Jaws had done something wrong.

Charlie Myer did, though. So did the other guys on the K-9 unit.

Damn. It.

He and Troy finished up the skit and then Griffin endured fifteen minutes of questions from the kids. They wanted to know everything under the sun, including how to adopt one of the dogs.

“These are military property.” Griffin pointed out the serial number tattooed into one of the dog’s ears. It wasn’t Jaws, though, because Jaws had been transported back to his kennel for safety reasons. He couldn’t be trusted right now, and that felt like a kick to Griffin’s nuts. “When we retire the dogs, they usually go to one of the handlers. If they don’t, then we look for a good home in the civilian world. Like everything else, there’s a lot of paperwork involved to adopt one of these guys. They’re soldiers. They’ve been through a lot and deserve the best retirement available.”

When the Q&A was over, Griffin headed in the direction of the kennels, knowing that Charlie Myer would be waiting to talk to him. Jaws had attacked early, but he’d done it because he’d thought Griffin was in danger. Couldn’t fault a dog for that. Not a regular dog at least.

Charlie was standing in his office doorway, arms crossed, a grim expression on his face.

“I know,” Griffin said, walking toward him.

“I thought you said Jaws was improving.”

“He is,” Griffin answered back. “Some dogs just need more work than others.”

“We could go ahead and retire him.”

Griffin shook his head. He felt responsible for Jaws. They were a team. And going through the process of retiring Jaws out meant going through the process to determine if Jaws was safe to be someone’s pet. That thought turned Griffin’s stomach into a lead anchor because if Jaws was deemed unsafe, there would be no happy ending for him.

“No, sir. Give us one more chance.”

After meeting with Charlie, Griffin trudged through the rest of the day, using the last forty-five minutes for more training with Jaws. Then he grabbed his things to go home. His cellphone was blinking with a message as he headed to his Ford Explorer in the parking lot.

“Hey, it’s me,” a female voice said on his voicemail.

He knew exactly who the female was by the way his traitorous heart kicked into gear.

“Listen, when you get this message, can you call me back. I want to tell you something.”

Val left her phone number and the message ended.

Griffin smiled for the first time that day. He’d do better than return her call, he decided. She only lived ten minutes away and he’d been trying to dream up an excuse to go see her anyway. Now he had one.

The doorbell rang. Val looked down at the gym shorts and tight white tank top she was wearing. She’d been considering working out. Exercise was supposed to be good for creativity and her friend Julie was always telling her how great she’d feel afterward. Yoga was Julie’s exercise of choice. Val didn’t think yoga was for her, but she’d always liked long walks and an occasional jog. Now that she was dog sitting, those were practical things she could do. Val frowned at her attire. If her father was the person at the door, he’d disapprove of her skimpy workout gear. But, then again, her father tended to disapprove of everything she said or did so…

Whatever.

She headed toward the door, where Sweet Cheeks was already having a conniption. Val smiled, collecting the puppy in her arms before opening the door.

Griffin stood before her, taking up all the space on her porch. He was wearing dark rinse jeans and a T-shirt, as always. He had his German shepherd, Trooper, by his side. This had Sweet Cheeks wagging excitedly. Val felt the same way.

“Griffin. What are you doing here?” she asked, hugging Sweet Cheeks tighter.

“You called,” he said.

“I left my number. You could’ve just called me back. You didn’t have to come all the way down here.”

He nodded, still standing on her porch. “Are you, uh, going to invite me in?”

“Oh. Of course.” She laughed as she stepped away from the entrance, giving him permission to come inside. She closed the door behind him, trying not to notice how her heart was suddenly galloping in her chest.
Slow down, girl.
“Would you like a drink? I have lemonade.”

The corners of his mouth turned up.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just very hospitable of you to offer a guest a glass of lemonade.”

Val placed one hand on her hip, holding Sweet Cheeks with the other. “Well, this is the South. It’s lemonade or sweet tea.” She turned and opened her refrigerator, looking over her shoulder at him. “Or beer. I always have beer.”

Griffin sat at the barstool at her kitchen island. “Lemonade would be great.”

Val nodded and set Sweet Cheeks on the floor. Sweet Cheeks scurried toward Trooper, unaware that she was a small dog and he was a gentle giant. Reaching up to grab a glass from her cabinet, Val was suddenly self-conscious of how short her workout shorts were. “I was about to go for a walk with Sweet Cheeks,” she said, taking the glass to the kitchen’s island. She grabbed the pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and started to pour. “I’m teaching her to walk on a leash. I figure Alma might need a longer leash when she gets out of rehab.”

Griffin was looking at her, an amused look on his unshaven face. She had the sudden urge to run her hand along his jawline to feel the bristle of hair on her fingertips.

“What’s funny?” she asked.

“You’re going to be holding on to that little dog long past the time Alma gets discharged from Seaside Harbor.”

Val frowned. “It’s just until she comes home.”

Griffin picked up his glass, bringing it to his mouth. Val forgot to breathe as she watched him. She was in romance-writer mode, hyperaware of Griffin’s every movement. In her manuscript, she’d turned him into a sex god and now he was sitting in front of her, a woman who hadn’t had sex since…

Val tried to remember. Her last boyfriend had been the closest thing to a bad boy that she’d ever dated. And he’d proven himself bad in the worst sense of the word by cheating on her while deployed. She’d talked to a few guys since then, but no one had sparked her interest. Until now. Griffin was definitely igniting sparks.

“How’s the lemonade?” she asked.

“The best I’ve ever had.”

Val swallowed back her smile. “It’s a special recipe.”

His eyebrow cocked. “Oh, yeah. So this is the only place I can get this particular drink?”

“That’s right.” Was she mistaken or was he flirting with her?

“So if you find me standing at your door again, you’ll know why I’m here.”

Val laughed, wrapping her fingers around the glass that she’d poured for herself. “Anytime. It’s easy enough to make.”

“So, what did you want to tell me?” Griffin asked.

“Hmm?”
Is it hot in here, or is it just me?

“You left me a voicemail saying you wanted to tell me something,” he reminded her.

“Right. Yes.” She laughed, nervously. Geez, she needed to spend less time in front of her computer and more time with people, and men in particular, so she could be proficient at talking in their presence. “I had lunch with your mom again today. I wanted to tell you that she ate for me again. Half her sandwich.”

Griffin sat up straighter.

For a second she thought he might be upset with her. But then he smiled; it was a different smile from the flirty one he’d been giving her a minute ago. This one shone genuine happiness. “That’s great. Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

“It’s nothing.” She looked down at her hands. “All of my friends are busy this summer with, you know, family vacations and such.” She laughed lightly. “Having lunch at Seaside Harbor is actually a treat for me.”

“It’s a big deal for me,” he said, his voice dipping low. “It means a lot to know that someone is taking the time to care for my mom. Extra care,” he clarified. “The staff there is great, but they don’t have time to sit with her and encourage her to eat for every meal. It’d be easier for them to just order that feeding tube.”

“She still might have to get one. She only ate a couple bites, but…” Val shrugged. “I’m going back tomorrow.”

Griffin stared at her with an intensity that made her squirm. “It should be me.”

“You have to work. I have the summer off.”

Griffin looked down at his glass. “I missed a lot of time with my mom over the last few years. I didn’t even know she was sick until last year.” He glanced up, keeping his head low. “I need to make things up to her.”

Without thinking, Val reached across the kitchen island, laying her hand over his. “You never have to make things up to your parents. It’s kind of an unspoken rule. They love us unconditionally, no matter what.”

She was trying to make him feel better, but instead, his dark eyes grew even darker.

“You don’t understand.” He leaned forward and steepled his hands over his mouth. “We had a huge blowup before I joined the military. I told her she wasn’t my mother and left. That was the last time I saw her before she got sick…” he said, voice cracking.

Val wasn’t sure what Griffin was talking about, but her heart ached for him suddenly. “What did you two fight about?”

Griffin’s jaw clenched. “Helen isn’t my real mother.”

Val’s mouth fell open. “What do you mean, Helen isn’t your mom?”

Griffin ignored the uncomfortable ache in his chest. He’d never shared that bit of information with anyone. No one here in Seaside knew that he was adopted. No one from his past knew the truth, either. Except for his extended family, of course. They’d all known and none of them had said a word. When Griffin had found out, he’d simply dropped out of college and joined the Corps, giving himself an instant contractual family. At least when he’d joined the military, he’d known what he was getting into. There was no big lie to kick him in the nuts somewhere down the line.

“Would you and Trooper like to come along on our walk?” Val asked, looking up at him.

He nodded. “Trooper would probably love that.” The truth was, he would, too. He understood why his mother liked Val so much. He liked her, too. That was something he and Helen Black had in common, he guessed, wishing he’d stuck around when he’d first discovered his adoption to figure out if there were more things they had in common, other than the things he’d been raised to believe were part of him.

Now it was too late.

He put Trooper on a leash, not because Trooper required one. Trooper would stick to his side without fail. They were walking to a dog park nearby, though, where there’d be other dog owners. Out of respect, he always carried a leash. People were more at ease around a big dog if they knew he could be handled.

“How’s the training for Alma’s dog coming along?” he asked.

Val giggled to herself.

“What’s funny?”

“You. You can’t say her name. Ever. Is it against the Tough-Guy Rule Book to say Sweet Cheeks?”

Griffin shook his head. “That is no name for a dog. Poor thing is probably so misbehaved because it’s rebelling against that title.”

She continued to laugh. As she did, dark strands of hair fell into her face. She brushed the silky hair back with her hand the way he wanted to. He had the urge to run his fingers through her hair, pull her to him, and kiss her, long and hard.

“Something wrong?” Val asked, watching him now.

Yes.
He shook his head. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” she asked.

He found this amusing. Women always wanted to know what a man was thinking. That had been the root of a lot of arguments between him and the only woman he’d dated longer than two months. Maybe that meant he needed to keep his thoughts on a tighter leash. What would she say if he told her he was thinking about kissing her just now? “I was thinking that this walk feels pretty good.”

A white lie. He’d learned from his last relationship that those were better than the truth sometimes.

“I don’t believe for a second that’s what you were thinking, but okay.” Val’s eyes were sparkling against the sunlight. Then her arm jerked forward as Sweet Cheeks spotted the dog park up ahead and launched her little body toward the place. “Whoa, Sweet Cheeks!” she called, pulling back on the leash. “Whoa!”

Griffin took the leash from her. He gave a short, quick tug and uttered a command in a tone of voice that made what he wanted clear to Sweet Cheeks. The little dog looked back, her eyes large and submissive. “It’s all about tone of voice, remember? This isn’t a baby you’re talking to. Be firm.”

Val nodded. “Firm. Right. Thanks.”

He opened the gate to the park and held it for her and “the dog” to walk through. He and Trooper followed behind. They took a bench that lined the large open space and unclipped the dogs, setting them free. Trooper still didn’t move. Griffin patted his head. Trooper was happiest at his side. He wasn’t one of those dogs that could run carefree in a park, sniffing discarded trash and other dogs’ asses. Trooper had been to war. He’d sniffed out bombs, saving countless lives. After excitement like that, a candy bar wrapper paled in comparison.

Griffin pulled a treat out of his jeans pocket and held it out to Trooper. The dog’s eyes flickered with excitement, but he didn’t snatch the treat. He was trained to wait for Griffin to give permission for everything. It wasn’t a bad thing. Trooper had been that way since he was a puppy. “Go ahead,” Griffin said, holding it out.

Trooper snapped it up and started chewing.

“You’re really great with dogs,” Val commented, watching them.

There was a foot of space between him and her on the bench. Maybe it’d been too long since he’d been with a woman, because he had the sudden urge to pull this one closer. If there was anything he’d learned in the Corps, it was willpower. He probably needed to spend less time with the sassy vixen, though, because even the toughest soldier had a weakness. Everyone did. His weakness was quickly becoming a blue-eyed brunette with long hair and longer legs.

“I’m going to take you up on your offer,” she said, catching his gaze.

“What offer is that?” He watched as her hair fluttered around her face, dancing with the soft breeze that was blowing, rustling through the pines that bordered the fence. There was a pleasant background of summer noise—barking, birdsong, laughter—competing for his attention. There was no competition when he looked at Val, though. She had his full, undivided attention at the moment.

“To help me train Sweet Cheeks. Alma will be coming home in a week and a half. I need Sweet Cheeks to be disciplined for her. Is your offer still on the table?”

Griffin thought back to his original offer. “A week and a half isn’t much time.”

“Training dogs is what you do best, though, right?”

The side of his mouth quirked up in a smile that he tried to keep at bay. The bad boy in him wanted to counter that comment by telling her there were some things he did better. He summoned his willpower again. “I’m good with dogs,” he agreed.

“So help me…please.”

“What’s in it for me?” he asked, making it clear that he was teasing by the tone of his voice. Everything was relayed by voice tone, with dogs and humans.

Her lips puckered a little as she thought. “I’ll make your mother avoid getting a feeding tube.”

He pulled his head back, suddenly serious. That was an offer he couldn’t refuse. “Really? You can’t promise that,” he said.

“I have the summer off from school. I’ll make it my job to have lunch with Helen every day. She seems to like me, so…”

“That’s a big commitment.”

“Not so big. I like Helen. What do you say? You help me train Sweet Cheeks and I’ll have daily lunches with your mom for the rest of the summer.”

He sucked in a breath. “I’m getting the better end of this deal, you know?”

“Well, you haven’t heard my condition.” Her voice lifted, drawing him to look at her again. Spending time alone with her could be dangerous.

“What’s your condition?”

“You have to call her Sweet Cheeks. That’s her name. Not Dog.”

He grinned. “Anything else?” His mind ran rampant with all the other requests she could get him to submit to right about now, looking at him through those dark lashes of hers, with those pink, kissable lips. “Training dogs is child’s play for me. You have the upper hand.”

She considered this. “Let me think on that.”

“If you’re serious, I can stop by your place any night after work to train…” he hesitated, his mouth souring at even the thought of uttering her name, “Sweet Cheeks.”

Val watched him, laughter dancing in those baby blue eyes of hers. She pretended to spit in her hand and held it out, angling her body toward his on the bench. “I think we have ourselves a deal, Mr. Black.”

He took her hand in his, the feel of it like silk. He couldn’t help himself. He ran his thumb over the top of her hand as he held on to her. She had kissable, touchable skin that begged to be caressed. “Yes, we do, Miss Hunt.”