Page 21 of The Night Belongs To Fireman

“It made me curious. I was hoping I’d run into you again. And then you sent that note.”

Shivers were traveling down her arms. This whole conversation felt unexpectedly intimate. “I felt bad. You didn’t deserve the way I acted.”

“I didn’t take it personally. But”—he gave her a sidelong look—“there might be a way to make it up to me.”

“I can’t go on a date with you,” she said quickly.

“Go on a date?” An expression she couldn’t interpret crossed his face—maybe shock? “Not like that. That’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean, then?”

For a moment he simply stood, hands in his pockets, as if utterly perplexed. “I’m trained in urban search and rescue,” he finally said. “I volunteered in Japan after their last big earthquake.”

That certainly came out of the blue. “Okay.”

“I’ve worked with both rescue and salvage dogs. I know someone who trains them. I could … help you train your dog.”

She had the feeling he was making it up as he went. But why? If he wanted to see her again, why didn’t he just ask her? He was really confusing her. “You’re offering to train Greta?”

“Yes.”

Adding rescue dog training to the Refuge’s repertoire would be wonderful. Starting with Greta made sense, and it was something she’d been thinking about for a while. His offer was tempting, if only there were a place she wouldn’t worry about news cameras. Her apartment was safe, but she never invited anyone there other than Cindy, Liza, and Feather, who already knew her story. Then the perfect solution came to her.

“Fine, I’ll bring Greta to your house. Friday at eight.” She grinned at his obvious surprise. “I’ll bring the ice cream.”

Chapter 6

What the hell was he thinking? He shouldn’t be offering to train another girl’s dog. If Courtney caught wind of this, she’d be furious, no matter how broken up they were. Once again, he’d feel like the bad guy. He should take back his offer, right now. He couldn’t have Rachel coming over, even if it was just a friendly dog-training session. Which was exactly what it would be, nothing more.

True, he liked walking beside her, liked being able to glance over at frequent intervals and take in her wildly curling black hair and her enthusiastic gestures as she pointed out features of the Refuge. He liked listening to her grow more and more passionate in her descriptions of things like feeding schedules and the effect of oil spills on wildlife.

He liked watching her with the animals. Never in his life had he seen anyone with such an affinity for injured creatures. Even the owl, who’d just been brought in, seemed comfortable with her presence and allowed her to gently test the splint on its broken wing.

“Are you a vet?” he asked as she adjusted the towel keeping the owl warm.

“No. I completed most of a vet tech program, but I don’t need a degree to do what I do. We have a couple of actual vets here who perform surgery and work with the wildlife. My work is with dogs. I’m just … a dabbler, I suppose.”

“My friend Sabina said you helped a search dog who’d been injured in a mudslide and traumatized.”

“Yes. Dog therapy. Laugh if you want.”

“I’m not laughing.” He wasn’t. Now that he’d seen her with Stan, he didn’t think it was at all ridiculous.

She rewarded him with a quick smile, like a crystal catching the sun. “People bring their dogs to me when they’re exhibiting strange behavior, and I try to figure out what’s going on and how to help the dog.”

“How do you do it?”

“I can’t really explain. Ever since … well, something bad happened to me when I was young, and a German shepherd saved my life. Ever since then, I feel as if I can understand them. Dogs have all sorts of ways to communicate with us, if we pay attention. The tilt of their ears, how they hold their tails, if they bare their teeth. Even an air snap has a purpose; it doesn’t necessarily mean they’re going to attack. When I work with dogs and their owners, I work mostly on communication. Dogs are very intelligent, but if their owners are confusing them or not providing good leadership, they can develop bad habits.”

“Sabina said you have an amazing record of success.”

“Thanks,” she said, shrugging. “Mostly, I just want to help the dogs. I’ve never forgotten how one helped me.”

Fred was finding it hard to tear his gaze away from her. While she might not be the most typically pretty girl, she was fascinating to watch. Her face held lots of opposing angles that somehow managed to balance perfectly. Her eyebrows tilted up while the corners of her mouth slanted down. Her high cheekbones gave her an almost exotic look, as if she had a dose of Gypsy in her. He caught a faint whiff of her fragrance, light and fresh, like a walk through a rose garden after a morning rain.

She seemed different here. Calmer, maybe. Less skittish. Happier. As he watched her crouch to check on a tortoise with a bandage on its little leg, he got a flash of the way she’d bent over the drunken kid at the City Lights Grill. Now that he knew her better, he saw that she’d been trying to help the guy the same way she tried to help wild animals.

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