Shelter Me (11 page)

Valerie leaned over the handlebars. “Are you one of those vegans now?”

Nathan kept right on tossing without missing a beat. “Are you some psycho stalker watching us with a telescope at night?”

“Nathan.” Mike placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve got this.”

Lacey McDaniel stepped out of the barn, tucking her cell phone into her jeans pocket. “Valerie,” she called, “if you have a complaint, bring it to me, please.”

“Why do you think I’m here? There’s a hole in the fence and I don’t want any more of your animals bringing God only knows what diseases into my yard. Now with that wild dog you’ve brought here—”

“Of course we’ll make repairs right away, and Trooper is current on all vaccinations.”

Sierra crossed her arms over her chest. “That wild dog is the one rolling around in the grass scratching his back.”

Sure enough, Trooper was flopping around under a fat oak doing his best goofy-ass-dog act. Kinda strange since he was usually wary of threats. Maybe that meant this Valerie woman wasn’t as menacing as she liked to put on.

Mike thought of all the times Trooper had saved their lives, warning them of approaching enemies. He’d never come close to biting anyone, but he could be damn intimidating. Thank God he seemed to somehow sense now wasn’t a good time to scare off the trespassers.

“The fence?” Lacey pressed. “Kenneth, how about you show me the breach.”

Finally, Valerie nodded to her son and he hopped down to join Lacey, walking alongside her to the fence. Mike exchanged a glance with Nathan, and without hesitation the teen followed them. Apparently the old Nathan was still in there alive and kicking. Good kid. Clementine loped along on three legs after them.

Valerie leaned toward Mike and whispered, “I know what you’re trying to do here.”

“By all means enlighten me. I’m still playing catch-up,” he whispered right back with a grin. “I’ve been busy the past few months weaving a blanket of freedom for you to sleep under.”

The woman jerked back, folding her arms over her chest. “No need to be smug with the whole war hero act.”

Sierra hissed like Nathan’s snake. “Last time I checked, the roadside bomb that killed my father and nearly killed Mike wasn’t an act.”

Valerie didn’t even wince this time. “We’ve all lost someone around here, but you don’t see me trotting out my problems. Lacey took in that wild dog to stir up a bunch of sympathy over being a war widow. You think the county council will feel sorry for you all rather than listen to reason and shut this place down.”

Mike frowned, confused as hell. “County council?”

Sierra bristled, and until that moment he’d forgotten how damn fiery his Tinker Bell could get.

His?

Sierra stared down the battle-ax without flinching. “Only a crass, heartless human being would insinuate my mother is playing on the fact that my father was blown up in order to gain sympathy—or make money. Do you fully comprehend that? My father is dead.”

She spit out the word so bitterly Mike fought the urge to haul her to him and comfort her. But Sierra was clearly having none of that. Her fists were clenched at her side as she said her piece.

“And my father didn’t die in some gentle passing in his sleep. It was violent and ugly and he made that sacrifice so that even a horrible person like you would have that blanket of freedom to say whatever the hell rude thing you please in front of the county council.”

Valerie shook her head. “Dear, I am very sorry about your father. But you’re proving my point with making this emotional when it’s a practical issue. This place and the disruption it causes are all facts. More facts? You have loud, dangerous animals living next door to me. Look at the place. It’s not a ranch or even a farm, just a run-down eyesore full of smelly dogs.”

Sierra’s anger seemed to deflate in defeat. She sighed wearily. “You’ve made your point, Mrs. Hammond. We’re fixing the fence. You can feel free to go home now, safe from our smelly dogs.”

“My son’s not back.” Valerie shifted her attention to Mike. “Why are you still here anyway, hero boy? You’ve delivered the dog. Now you can go back to your blanket weaving.”

“Leave? You’ve misunderstood. I’m not going anywhere.” As soon as the words fell out of his mouth, he knew they were true. Nathan and Gramps might both be halfway off the rails, but even they could see this place needed help in more ways than one. And watching vibrant Sierra slump under the weight of this mean-ass woman’s tirade stirred something in him.

Valerie’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I understand you. Are you two shacking up?”

Shacking up? Who still said stuff like that? Trooper flipped from his back and trotted over, stopping beside Mike. The woman’s red dyed hair damn near stood up on end.

Mike’s hand fell to rest on Trooper’s head and scratched between the dog’s ears.

“You have nothing to worry about, ma’am. No more broken fences or worries about wild dogs. The McDaniel family has a handyman moving into their loft apartment.” He moved in closer, standing square in front of her four-wheeler with Trooper beside him step for step. “A war hero the whole town is sure to be impressed with.”

“And who would that be?”

“Me, of course.”

Before the woman could answer, Trooper lifted a leg and peed on her front tire.

*   *   *

I COULD SMELL
victory, a lot like the magnificent scent of a sweaty sandal or a burned hot dog.

Or marking a bitch’s tire.

Do you know one of the coolest things about being a dog? I can call someone a bitch and it’s politically correct, since technically, a bitch is a female.

Although that demon woman on her beast mobile was scary. Her beta son liked to play as if he was all full of himself, but he was scared of her, too. I could smell the angry stink getting worse mighty fast. Trying to charm her by playing it low-key and cute rubbing my back on the grass hadn’t worked. People usually lapped that stuff up. But this lady wasn’t having any of it. I figured she was a cat person and left it at that. Hindsight, that was a mistake on my part.

But let’s get back to the feeling of victory. Sorry to digress. I’m a dog. We’re easily distracted. Squirrels. Hot dogs. Birds. Garbage trucks. You get the picture.

In spite of the cranky bitch on the monster machine, my primary mission was well on track. Mike was moving in with the McDaniel family. He’d finally gotten the message after I chased him down twice. That first trek to the motel was long with lots of sniffing to find him. My paws took a serious beating in the woods and then dodging cars.

Not that I had to worry about getting caught. These people were amateurs compared to threats I evaded in Iraq. We can talk about that more later. I hope you appreciate how hard I’m working to stay on topic here.

The last time I chased down Mike was easier. I just hopped in the back of his truck and whammo. They got the message. He was living with the McDaniel family. He was sticking around to help.

My mission should be complete. The Colonel would be happy his family was looked after. But things didn’t feel settled yet. We dogs are all about sensing. You people would do well to trust your instincts more often and quit relying so much on things. Things were flawed. Breakable.

Instincts were natural. And my instincts were shouting at me loud and clear.

I didn’t like that Mrs. Hammond much. She smelled like cabbage. I prefered the smell of hot dogs. But whatever. I knew in my gut that woman was out to cause trouble for Lacey.

There were so many people around here to figure out, it made me a little itchy at times, learning lots of new smells and routines and all the rules, rules, rules. These people lived by their clocks and rules. They were so uptight they couldn’t appreciate the simple pleasures in life. Like rolling in the grass. Sleeping on a warm blanket. Sniffing a fragrant butt.

The people here were confusing. They really had me resisting the urge to chew my tail in frustration over all the conflicting signals. Gramps made me sad, but I knew what to do even when he lost his way or thoughts. Half the time he believed I was his old dog Trooper who had already gone to the Rainbow Bridge where critters wait for their people so they can walk together to meet the Big Master. The Colonel would go there in his mind sometimes and play fetch with the other Trooper. But I didn’t think he would cross over the rest of the way until his family was okay.

And they were definitely not okay.

Sierra was sad and mad—and even if nobody else could smell it, I knew she was totally sexed up for Mike. I restrained myself from humping her leg, though, out of respect for the Colonel.

Lacey was tired and really needed a week at a spa, but instead she stayed busy so she wouldn’t cry. I could smell the salt of those tears she held back, along with the scent of alcohol she managed to hide from everyone else. So far she’d kept her drinking to nighttime, but I was watching her. She needed a friend. I would work on that.

Nathan worried me most in those days. He smelled like death. The kind of smell when somebody had given up on life. I had more experience than most dogs in recognizing that stink from my time back home overseas. Soldiers got that smell right before they decided to eat a gun or step into the line of fire on purpose. When I was playing ball with Nathan and Mike, every time I picked up the ball after the kid threw it, I caught a whiff of him on it and I knew. The boy was in trouble.

One step at a time, though. I’d only been here a couple of days and I’d accomplished a lot. I would lie low, go slow and steady. I had my people all together. Life was chill for now, playing fetch, meeting new dogs that didn’t fight me for food, and landing a clean, fluffy place to sleep.

There were even car rides. After the bitch and her beta boy left, Lacey told me we were going on a trip tomorrow. I figured that would be a good time to work on her friend problem.

All was on target. Except for a tiny language barrier I hadn’t foreseen. When the guys overseas talked about vets, they meant military veterans. So I was completely unprepared for what awaited me when Lacey said we were taking a ride to see her pal Ray Vega—the vet.

PART 2

No one told me that coming to the United Steaks of America meant I had to give up my balls . . . and I don’t mean the tennis kind.

—TROOPER, NEUTER DAY

Six

“S
ORRY I’M LATE,
Mary Hannah.” Sierra thrust her hands into her hair and dropped into a deep chair in the university writing lab by her best friend. “I had to drop off Trooper at the vet this morning. Mom had a crisis with a litter of bottle-fed puppies, so she couldn’t take Trooper to get neutered. I don’t know how many more balls my family can juggle—so to speak.”

Mary Hannah Gallo hiccupped on a laugh, her sense of humor more rowdy than her buttoned-up appearance would indicate. She perched on the edge of her seat with an iPad in her lap, sweater set and pencil skirt coordinated with her green and blue paisley satchel—which also happened to match her iPad cover.

Mary Hannah was so organized it could be annoying, except for the fact she had one of the biggest hearts ever. She was getting her master’s in Social Work, returning to college after her divorce from a man she only talked about if she had two glasses of wine, which seldom happened. “I’m sorry to hear about the puppies, hon. And about having the extra carpool duties, but that’s nothing new around your house. What’s got you so stressed today?” She passed a tin of breath mints. “Have one. They’re stress mints. Completely homeopathic.”

Sierra knew better than to argue and popped a “stress mint” into her mouth—which just tasted like peppermint to her, but whatever. She leaned in so none of the other grad assistants in the lab full of tables and computers would overhear. “In answer to your question, it’s Mike again.”

“Mike Kowalski?” Mary Hannah angled closer, her shoulder-length bobbed black hair gliding in silky sync. “As in your ex-boyfriend? The hottie soldier, Mike? Heartbreaker Mike? What’s he done now? I’ll kick his butt if he’s hurt you again.”

Kick his butt how? By pounding him over the head with her paisley binder? Sierra suppressed a smile. Then remembered the reason for her splitting headache. “He’s moving into my apartment.”

Mary Hannah frowned in confusion. “You two are moving in together? I knew there was still chemistry, but wow, that was fast.”

A brief vision of unlimited sex with Mike flashed through her mind, a futile thought. “Not together. He’s moving into my apartment and I’m staying in my house. I’m a twenty-three-year-old still living with my mother.” She made an L with her pointer finger and thumb and thumped her forehead.