Under Fire

But then she’d seen the other three—dead—puppies. The biter had been protecting her siblings.

Catriona had picked up the scruffy puppy and tucked the fierce protector into her backpack—just to be safe. She didn’t blame the little one for the bite, but she wasn’t going to offer up her arm as a chew toy. She scooped up the other and held it close enough to see the fleas crawling around in its patchy fur. The little boy pup had trembled so hard, it peed on her. She’d taken them both home, names picked out before she hit the front stoop.

Freckles and Frisbee.

She’d expected her parents to argue about taking them to the veterinarian, but her mother had been strangely cooperative. It wasn’t until they reached the vet’s office that she realized her mom intended to have the puppies put to sleep.

For the first time in her life, Catriona stood up to her mother. She’d threatened to pitch a very embarrassing fit in the lobby full of people who would undoubtedly gossip. She would make sure everyone knew her mom, Vivian Whittier, was a puppy killer.

Her mom had ground her teeth but relented. Vivian had valued nothing more than her reputation as a philanthropist. So Vivian—Vivie—had changed tactics quickly, set up treatment for the puppies with instructions to arrange for them to go to a rescue, for a hefty donation. Her mom promised to go shopping for a pedigreed pooch that afternoon.

But Catriona wasn’t budging.

The thought of giving up the two pups snapped a switch inside her she’d never expected. She was willing to bargain with the devil for those babies.

Worse. She was willing to bargain with Vivian.

Catriona had promised to attend the blasted cotillion classes. She would even try to fit in there and date boys her mom picked out.

If she could just keep the puppies.

Frisbee, the fighter, the spunky little protector, didn’t make it. Parvovirus had sapped the life from her already parasite-riddled body. But the little guy, Freckles, the shy pup that peed when you looked at him?

He made it.

And with him, Catriona had found her mission.

Her fingers worked automatically over Tabitha’s head, soothing, until her heart rate slowed and her mind cleared enough to tune in again to Brandon’s voice.

“Hey, Rachel, when you get this message, give me a call or Catriona, either of us. We just need to know you’re okay.” He disconnected.

“Still no answer?”

He shook his head. “Afraid not.”

A vein throbbed in his temple. Faster and faster still. The strain on his face, in his eyes, was worse than anything requiring an inhaler.

“She’s okay.” She touched his arm again. Thick corded muscles twitched and bunched under her fingertips, but she didn’t pull away. “I’m sure of it.”

“You can relax.” He half smiled. “I’m not going to fall apart in the middle of your yard. I’m just honest to God concerned.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. How should she answer a person who joked about… what? PTSD, maybe? That would be the main reason a military guy would seek out a therapy dog, if they didn’t have a visible physical injury. But Brandon didn’t look how she would have expected a person suffering from combat stress to appear.

He was buff and tan. He cracked jokes. She would have expected him to be antisocial. Gruff.

But not open this way. Vulnerable, even. There were most definitely shadows in his expression and dark smudges under his eyes that made her want to pull his head to rest in her lap and stroke his thick, dark hair.

“I know, but still, you’re worried and so am I. I know I said it before, but I keep reminding myself, paid for a week in advance.”

He hitched his hands on his narrow hips. “Chances are slim she’s hanging out at her place, knitting dog booties. And she does deserve to get away after the hours she’s put in lately. Maybe she’s tucked away with some guy having the time of her life.”

God, he was hot. “But you’re still worried.” Which made him ever hotter. But was he worried about Rachel being on a date? “Uh, why are you looking for her?”

“Why do you ask?”

Because… she was jealous? And how pathetic was that? Still she pushed, “From where I’m standing, you’re more than concerned. You look really worried. Not that I’m diminishing how upset she’ll be over losing her stuff, but her dogs are safe here, and thank God she decided to step away for the day. Right? So all’s chill in the big scheme of things, as long as no one got hurt.”

He seemed to weigh his words carefully. “There’s a little more going on here than that. Rachel thought she had some kind of stalker. She reported it to the cops, but there wasn’t anything they could do.”

Catriona gasped. “You think someone actually set that fire on purpose?”

“It’s a distinct possibility.”

“Then we should call the police. Now.” She lifted her cell phone, ready to report… what? She wasn’t sure exactly, but someone should at least tip them off.

“I’ll handle it.” He gripped her hand.

Stopping her.

Searing her with his callused heat.

She swallowed hard and eased her hand away. “That’s right. You’re a cop, aren’t you?”

“Military. Yes…” The corner of one blue eye twitched. “But I’m on medical leave right now.”

“That doesn’t make you any less of a police officer. All the skills you learned are still there and they’ll listen to your suspicions.”

“You would think so.” He smiled.

Sorta.

“I can see how a cop could get cynical, but you do such an altruistic job. The honor in that just blows me away.” And she hated that he didn’t seem at all proud of what he’d accomplished. “You followed your dream. That’s really cool.”

“What about you? Is this”—he spread his hand to encompass her yard—“is it your dream?”

So they weren’t calling the police.

She knew a subject change when she saw one. But if he felt everything possible was being done to investigate the fire, then she trusted him. Clearly there was nothing they could do for Rachel right now.

Why not answer his question? She could actually take a moment to talk to him in the muggy night, the most she would get out of a man who refused to have dinner with her. Catriona leaned back against his truck, letting the ocean and night sounds seduce her.

“I wanted to study veterinary medicine, but my grades weren’t good enough.” And for once her parents refused to buy her way into something she wanted—even if she promised to marry another vet. Not that she would have been so calculating. But her mother had always been on her to marry a doctor, so she’d thought maybe…

She shook off her thoughts, not that he was rushing her. He had a way of listening and waiting that was rare. “I decided to be a vet tech instead. I left home with my dog Freckles and worked my way through. I held down a job at a shelter for about five years, then my parents passed away.”

There hadn’t been much money left—Vivian had been a conspicuous consumer. But there had been a mortgage-free house. A gorgeous beach home that wouldn’t sell for nearly what it was worth, in the current economy.

So she’d thumbed her nose at her mother and the entire neighborhood and started a doggy day care.

“I have the title free and clear to my parents’ house and decided to open Wags and Whiskers. I’m able to take in fosters and rescues. I’ve never been happier.”

She looked over the yard and the business she’d built. She offered obedience and agility classes. And she’d recently had a whole new world opened to her with some of her pets achieving certification to be therapy dogs. Not service dogs, but emotional support therapy dogs. She made trips to nursing homes and children’s cancer wards.

A dark grin welled inside her. Her mom would have approved of the visits to hospitals, since there were eligible doctors around.

But Catriona wasn’t there to snag some rich eye candy the way her mom would have wanted. She was there to make a difference. With her dogs, she had all the confidence in the world. For the first time, she wasn’t beige.

She existed.

And right at this time when she was feeling like anything was possible, into her life walked Brandon Harris. Big, quiet, and hunky, he showed up on her doorstep to discuss dog-sitting for his Australian shepherd, since his gym didn’t allow therapy dogs.

For nearly a month since then, she’d been waiting for a chance to get closer to him, and that opportunity had come tonight. She wasn’t letting it slide through her fingers.

Catriona shoved away from the warm metal of the truck. “I’ll leave you to finish up calls to whomever you need to speak with to do whatever it is you’re going to do to handle Rachel’s problem with the stalker.” She rested a hand on his arm briefly, but it was enough. “Take your time. I have plenty to keep me busy securing all the dogs so we can go.”

“Go?” He looked up sharply. “Where?”

“To Rachel’s condo, of course. At least a drive-by to check on things.” She looked back over her shoulder, a lock of hair catching in the wind. “We can be there for support if she’s heard about the explosion and shows up. Make sure she’s not alone, if some creep is there waiting for her.”

His eyes held on her hair. On her mouth.

She lost her footing on… nothing really. The ground was flat. Her balance was just wonky.

God, she hated her lack of experience with men. Oh, she’d had sex plenty of times. Starting with blow jobs on guys at those horrid cotillion classes and moving on from there. She’d kept trying until she’d figured out she just wasn’t good at relationships. After a while, it just wasn’t worth the effort.

Until now.

Brandon placed his hand on her waist. The air snapped like lightning chasing across the ocean, looking for land.

Confusion shifted through his eyes. Then was gone.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine”—sorta, not really, damn it—“just tripped over a, uh, dog toy.”

“Good thing I was here to catch you.” His hand fell away. “But what about the burgers you wanted to grill? And if you’re coming along with me, who’ll watch the dogs?”

If she came along?

He wasn’t rejecting the idea outright.

“The hamburgers will keep just fine in the fridge and we can hit a drive-through on our way.” Did sharing a Big Mac in his truck count as a date? “And I have a list of college students who’re willing to sub at a moment’s notice for extra money.”

“We could get back late.”

“They’re college students. Late night is their specialty.”

“Right, all-night study sessions.” When he smiled, the cleft in his chin called to her finger to tap it. “I should make those calls before we go.”

Her skin tingled. They were really going to work together on this, hang out with each other beyond passing the time over dogs. She had exactly what she’d wanted since first meeting him.

Her gut twisted as she realized he was also everything her mother would have wanted for her. Handsome. Smart. He wasn’t a doctor, but he was a war hero, and her mom would have been thrilled at the notion of him in uniform on Catriona’s arm.

Except, ugh, her mother’s approval should be the kiss of death. Better to think about all the times she and Brandon had talked while their dogs played in the surf. He wasn’t just a guy who wore a uniform.

He was a man. An interesting, attractive man.

She refused to be like her mother, only looking at the surface. Brandon was more than a uniform. More than a “catch.”

And he was completely too David Beckham–hot to ever look at her that way. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">