Page 60 of Love in Training
He frowns. “There are hand signals too. Have you bothered to learn them?”
“Why would I? I thought the training part was your job.”
His mouth presses into a line. “If it isn’t obvious, Rufus reallywantsto be told what to do.”
“Well, that’s one of us,” I say through my teeth. “Just tell me the command for ‘don’t chew up my things.’”
Drew’s brows draw together and he leans close, voice gravelly. “He wouldn’t chew your stuff if he lived with me.”
My lip curls as I snatch the leash. “Not a chan?—”
The words fall away as sudden movement behind him catches my eye. A twenty-something white man running directly toward me, teeth bared, fists pumping. Without thinking, I shrink against Drew, just trying to put something between me and the approaching man.
Who crashes to the ground ten feet short of us, catching a frisbee just before he hits the grass. Laughing, he gets to his feet and brushes himself off as he walks back toward his friends, andit’s a good thing I have a death grip on the leash because Rufus lunges after the guy, suddenly barking and snarling.
“Rufus, settle.”
The words rumble against my ear, but only after Rufus immediately obeys do I look up and realize I’m crouched right up against the burly dog trainer. So close I can feel the heat of him. I straighten quickly, ignoring his quizzical stare as I put space between us.
“Are you?—?”
“I’ve got to get going,” I say, focusing hard on gathering my things.
When he doesn’t answer, I make the mistake of looking up into those sea-green eyes, which swirl with curiosity and something else I can’t identify.
“Thanks for um... working with him,” I say, shifting my attention to Rufus.
The thoughts crossing his features fade, and he nods. “Sure. Tomorrow, you can try running him through the commands too.”
My jaw drops. I don’t even know where to start with that. “Me? Tomorrow?”
He folds his arms over his muscular chest, the sleeves of his Henley straining against his generous biceps like he’s posing for some NSFW dog training calendar. “You’re eager for him to stop chewing up your things?”
“Yes.” I flatten my mouth into a line, trying hard to picture my couch and not my vibrator while talking with Drew Forbes.
“Then he needs activity. A sense of purpose.”
“Okay, fine, but I can’t do thiseveryday.”
His lip curls. “Did you eat today? Breathe air?” His gaze rakes over the bag holding my laptop. “Did you spend time doing meaningful work?”
I rest my hands on my hips. “What’s your point?”
He steps closer, eyes darkening. “It’s no different for him. You can’t just feed and walk him when you feel like it. He needs attention, he needslove,just as much as he needs food and water.” He takes another step, close enough that I have to tilt my head up to look at him. “You have toshow upfor him. Every day. You can’t just leave him behind when things get hard.”
This last bit feels like an accusation. The corners of my eyes prick as I curl my hands into fists. Because I have a feeling we’re not just talking about the dog.
“Inever?—”
But the words die on my lips, and my chest fissures. Because what if he’s right?
I always thought I did everything I could to fight for Kyle, but what if I didn’t? What if I could have done something different? He pushed me away—he leftme. But why didn’t I chase after him? Why didn’t I try harder?
I close my eyes, tears burning beneath my lids.
But it doesn’t matter. Nothing can bring him back now.
I clear my throat, my voice coming out low and steady. “I will give Rufus what he needs.”
