Oh man. Mental note to do some more research on Hope’s Crossing Kennels. All her employer had given her was a newspaper article on Atlas, the hero dog returned from overseas, and the address for the kennel he’d been transferred to. She’d walked in ready to deal with the usual blustering egos. Strong personalities were a given with trainers working with dominant dogs all the time. But taking in the man that was David Cruz, really looking at him…
Lean and wiry, Cruz didn’t seem to have an ounce of extra flesh on him. Everything about him was sharp, from the way he responded to every sound around them to the way his musculature showed through his snug tee. Cut wasn’t the word for it. She thought she’d seen some fitness guys on the Internet call it shredded? Oh yes. His bronze skin and dark hair, combined with his brooding expression, stole her mental filter, leaving her with no sensible words from the start.
She was messing up this entire project and what she really wanted was to do the only thing she was good at: helping dogs. She’d turned down two private training contracts to clear her schedule for this. Her services were in high demand. And damn it, she could help Atlas.
But she’d made a mistake trying to bulldoze her way through Cruz. She shouldn’t have tried to get around him or walk over him. Her employer would’ve sneered at her and cited a serious tactical error. But she wasn’t military and she didn’t have to maneuver her way to steady footing again the way others might. She could give a little, compromise, adjust to the situation and change her approach. And she could open her mind and learn before trying to shower everyone with her expertise.
“Has the status with Atlas changed?” She kept her tone soft, trying not to make it sound antagonizing.
Cruz’s brows drew together and if it was possible, his expression darkened further. “How do you mean?”
She treaded carefully. “Newspaper article said he was pining away for his handler who died overseas.”
A long pause. “He’s eating.”
Her heart skipped and then sank. It was a good sign if Atlas was eating. Bad news was they might not need her after all.
“To be fair,” Cruz continued, “he’s only eating on command. He won’t eat if someone’s not watching to make sure he does.”
Lyn struggled to keep a politely positive expression. No gloating. No anything that might shut Cruz down again. “I appreciate your honesty.”
“Yeah well, I try not to lie unless absolutely necessary.”
But he hadn’t had to share the whole truth either. Was he giving her a chance?
Whatever she said next might mean the difference between seeing Atlas and seeing her way out the front door. Her employer wouldn’t be happy and she wouldn’t be either.
Atlas’s story had struck a chord with her. He’d gone to hell and back on the commands of someone he trusted, with unwavering faith he was doing the right thing. And that person was suddenly gone. Her father had always guided her to do the right thing. When he died, her world had been filled with a lot of people telling her what to do and every one of them had their own selfish motives in mind. It’d stopped being about the right thing and warped into presenting the right illusion.
Be real. Every dog recognizes a fake. And good men can see through it too.
“I’d really like to help.” Honest. Simple. All the other reasons paled in comparison to this.
Cruz pressed his lips together in a hard line. She thought for a moment he’d say no. Fighting the urge to let loose an avalanche of reasons why she could and reiterate every point on her résumé supporting her expertise, she forced herself to stay put and wait. Five years rehabilitating abused animals in New York City and four years working as a private trainer to some of the most difficult human personalities on the West Coast had taught her patience.
“You’ve worked with dogs suffering from PTSD before.” He made the statement a question.
“Yes.” Quite a few in fact, but with a man like Cruz, she was getting the sense that less was more, at least when it came to credentials. He could and would check out her résumé later. He’d see her years of work, her awards and appearances at training conferences, in the paperwork.
No more bragging at this point and no more blustering.
“Let’s go.”
She didn’t have a chance to thank him, only hurried to keep up as he took long strides down another hallway and through a solid built door. They came out in the hallway to a set of kennels built directly against the main building.
Every one of the dogs came to alertness.
Cruz came to a stop at one. “We’re not going to do the usual introduction and sniffing. I’m going to open up the kennel and bring Atlas out. I’m going to hand him off to you and I want you to do exactly as I did for him. Then you’re going to give him back to me.”
Lyn nodded. This was new to her. It didn’t matter because she was up to handling anything this man might ask her to do. What mattered was Atlas.