Page 70 of Love in Training
“Good boy,” Drew rumbles in a low tenor. “That’s right, who’s a good boy?”
My eyes drift from Rufus to the muscular arms wielding the toy. Drew has pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, which has the effect of enhancing both his forearmsandbiceps. And when he slides his glasses up his nose, his eyes are alight—mouth pulled up in a lopsided smile like he’s enjoying this as much as the dog.
Just like when we first arrived, his expression, his wholedemeanor,is suddenly so different he doesn’t seem like the same man. Not the cranky dog trainer. Not Kyle’s misanthropic brother. Someone I don’t know at all.
Finally, he gives the “out” command and stows the toy out of Rufus’s sight. Drew runs a hand through his tousled hair, then turns, smile still on his face. And when his gaze lands on me, something thuds hard and low in my chest.
“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to try something with him,” he says.
It takes a moment before I registerif it’s okay with you.He isn’t barking orders or assuming—he’s asking my permission. I shrug and nod at the same time, confused. “Sure. He, uh... looks like he’s having a good time.”
He nods, then reattaches the leash and hands it to me, escorting us both to the reception area. “Okay, just wait here a few minutes,” he says, disappearing into a back room.
I pull out my phone to check for replies to any of the emails I sent this afternoon. There aren’t any, but I wrinkle my brow when I see a voicemail from an unknown number twenty minutes ago. My phone never rang.
Drew returns and opens the gate just as I finish listening to the message. Or trying to, anyway. It was a two-minute recording of empty air, and whatmighthave been someone breathing.
“Everything okay?” he asks, eyes pinging between the phone in my hand and my face.
“Uh... yeah. Just a spam call, I think.” I lock the screen and shove the device back into my pocket, but my hands are shaking when he reaches out to take the leash. “W-what are you doing with him now?”
“Scent work,” he says, looking down at Rufus the way Lydia would, like he understands what this means.
The dog gazes back at him like he’s just waiting to be given a command.
“Okay, Rufus. Let’s go check,” Drew orders in a clipped, authoritative tone.
The dog immediately moves into action, rushing back toward the agility course. Only he approaches it totally differently this time. Rather than making the jumps and navigating the obstacles, he runs around the equipment with his nose to the ground.
It takes me a few moments of watching before I realize he’s doing the sniff-every-corner thing he does every time we enter my apartment.
“Check,” Drew says, walking alongside him, holding the leash and pointing to a few specific spots around the room. “Check here.”
At each place he points, Rufus zeros in to give a more thorough sniff before moving on. Eventually, they make their way to a set of lockers on one of the far walls.
“Check here,” Drew repeats, and Rufus does his thing.
But instead of sniffing the metal doors and moving on like everywhere else, his whole body goes alert. He focuses on them, poking his nose all around, clearly ecstatic about something. He looks up at Drew, tail wagging furiously, and this time he sits.
“Good boy,yes,” Drew says in a subdued tone, immediately producing a Kong toy on a rope, dropping it right between Rufus and the locker door he’s obsessed with. Rufus clamps the Kong in his teeth, looking delighted while Drew praises and plays with him.
He hands me the leash and removes an object—presumably the source of the scent—from the locker and returns it to the back room while Rufus is busy with his toy.
When he enters the training room again, he’s looking at me. Not with a scowl, but something more like a question.
“What did you put in there?” I ask.
He shrugs. “A scent the military uses for training. To his nose, it mimics explosives.”
My mouth drops open, but when I look at Rufus rolling happily on the floor with his reward, something finally clicks.
“I . . . I think I get it now.”
Drew’s brows rise slightly behind his glasses, and damn if he doesn’t look just the way Clark Kent does when Lois figures out he’s Superman. I shift my gaze back to the dog.
“He’s been doing this thing since I’ve had him,” I say. “When we go places, or return home, he sniffs all over just the way he did here. Like he’s searching for something. I’ve never understood. I just thought it was some weird quirk. But after watching this...” I clear my throat. “Maybe you were right. Maybe he needs this work.”
He could completely gloat. Look smug. SayI told you so. But Drew Forbes doesn’t do any of those things. He just nods and crosses his arms over his chest, which makes my pulse skip involuntarily, since it only enhances his superhero physique. I am almost grateful when Rufus flings the Kong into my legs so hard I have to look away.
