Second Chance Soldier. Linda O. Johnston
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bustling around, brewing coffee. Amber gestured for him to sit at the round wooden table, and put a plate of cheese and crackers in front of him. She seemed like a nice person. An attractive woman...a very attractive woman. A welcoming woman. He started to relax, at least a little.
“Okay if I leave Bear loose?” he asked. It was.
Soon all three humans sat at the table with coffee in front of them. Bear lay down on the tile floor beside Evan, and Lola settled near Amber.
Then the fun began... Not.
Amber started with easy questions. How long had he liked dogs? How long had he worked with them? Where had he worked with them? He could answer those without much angst.
But then she began asking about the military experiences he’d had while working in the K-9 unit in Afghanistan.
It was all he could do to remain sitting there, answering, not looking at her...while the pain throbbed inside him.
Even so, he remained honest. Yes, he’d enjoyed what he’d done...but, yes, he had been wounded overseas. Bear had been there for him. Had saved him, bringing help when he had been injured by an improvised explosive device. And then...
Evan cringed. He saw again the IED’s explosion. Heard the concussive blast. Felt the pain. Watched Bear bring the other human member of his team who saved him...and saw Bear as he was shot by an unseen sniper.
Never mind Evan’s own injury, his agony. He’d stood and found a way to lift his dog and get him into the armored vehicle his comrade had driven there.
“Evan, are you all right?”
He hadn’t noticed Amber rise and rush over to him. Now she stood at his side. Bear, too, was standing.
He glanced toward the area around Bear’s hip where he had been shot, where his coat had grown back over the scar. Then Evan closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep, calming breath. For the first time, he looked up and stared deeply into Amber’s brilliant brown eyes and managed a smile.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Just a touch of PTSD. But working with dogs? That’s what I do. Did you say you wanted to discuss a possible job offer?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice cracking. “I do.”
* * *
Was this a mistake? This man she’d considered handsome and sexy and more, apparently had a messed-up mind.
PTSD. She was aware of it, of course, without really knowing how it worked.
It wouldn’t make a difference if this guy truly could train dogs and handlers the way he’d claimed.
He’d certainly looked good at it. And hopefully, with his experience, he’d do much better than the others.
“Okay, I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking.” She knew her smile wavered a bit. But before she pulled her glance away she felt gratified that, for the first time, Evan Colluro had actually looked her straight in the face for more than a nanosecond.
His PTSD might be why he hadn’t before, but his stare at her now, his wry grin, made him appear different: vulnerable, sad, damaged, yes, but also even sexier.
He listened as Amber told him that the first classes he would teach would be to a core group of her father’s students from this area who’d been helping each other with their pet dogs to keep the skills they’d already learned here fresh. They would be at the ranch tomorrow afternoon, and Evan could start right away by working with them.
“But we’ll want you to go into it deeper, teach them more—just general training skills, though, not K-9. You’ll work with our three shepherd pups for that, and we’ll hopefully place them with police departments when they’re ready. Plus, you can provide new and refresher classes to other police K-9 handlers soon. But tomorrow’s students? We’ll use them as our basis for bringing in even more students who have their own dogs. Some can become therapy dogs, and we may also acquire younger puppies to start training as service dogs. If classes increase the way we hope they will, we’ll hire additional trainers to assist you, and you’ll get some say in who we bring on. Does all that work for you?”
“Definitely,” he responded. “We’ll need to figure out the scheduling, of course, and we’ll also need to talk about a hiring protocol once bringing in other trainers becomes more likely, but it’s a good way to start.”
Their earlier correspondence had included what Evan’s base compensation would be if he was offered the job, and how it would be increased depending on expansion of their classes. Plus, he would get a home to live in here on the ranch, rent free. So, though they were talking terms, it was more about how he’d teach rather than his salary and benefits.
To be fair, she had also mentioned why they were looking: her father’s death. Detailed news reports were online, so Evan was likely aware that the situation remained unsolved, although the cops didn’t think there was any residual danger. Amber hoped not, of course...but couldn’t be certain. And she’d be willing to discuss the difficult situation with Evan if he happened to bring it up sometime.
“If all that is okay,” Amber finally told him, pushing some paperwork and a pen toward him from across the kitchen table, “I’ve had this agreement drawn up. I’d like us both to sign it.”
“Sure.” But Evan took his time reading it, probably a smart thing to do. Soon, though, he picked up the pen off the wooden table and signed and dated two copies of the contract as indicated, then pushed them back to Amber. She was the one to sign them, not her mother. They had previously agreed that Amber would take charge of the ranch.
“Great,” she said after placing her signature on both copies and passing one back to Evan. “Now, let’s go show you your new home.”
Okay, it was done.
Rather, it was just beginning. Amber continued to hope she hadn’t been too impetuous, too impressed by a tryout that appeared wonderful...but might not mean Evan could produce the many elements of dog training they needed him to do. Still, he’d been great with the puppies. That was what was important. The other stuff—his quiet demeanor, his admitted PTSD, his seldom looking straight at her—was just peripheral to what he needed to do around here to start fixing Chance K-9 Ranch until it was as successful as it had been under her popular, skilled and versatile father.
They were all back outside now, including the two older dogs, who now cavorted as if showing off to one another and to the humans around them. If Amber tried to motion to them or give them a command she doubted they’d change their ways. But if Evan did... Well, not now, though.
“There.” Pointing, she drew closer to the end of the paved path away from the house. It traversed the middle of the rolling green hills within the ranch’s enclosing wooden fence, and along it were some of the other homes on the ranch property. Those were for staff, and some located in the other direction could be rented out to students as they came to learn training methods, although there were also hotels nearby, including the one next door.
Four houses stood in a row here, all compact, single-story structures also constructed with redwood-resembling exteriors. Her mother and she led Evan past the first three to the one at the far end, then Amber turned to look at him. He stared at the house with an expression that appeared both assessing and pleased. Good. That was another plus on his chart.
“This one will be yours.” She walked up to the front entry, a plain wooden door with a window at the top. Having already dug the key out of her pocket, she unlocked the door, pushing it open to let him enter first.
Instead, he gestured politely for her to go in, then her mother. They both did so along with the dogs, though Amber had hoped to see more of Evan’s reaction to the place. Not that the house was anything fancy, but she’d checked its condition when she’d started looking for a trainer and thought