Taking Heart (3 page)

“I'll make you a deal, Dylan. You unpack and relax a bit. Feel free to use the pool in the back or wander around the property. Then, after dinner, we'll go out and you can meet some of the dogs. If you still want to head home, you can give up and fly out tomorrow. We'll just call it a minivacation.”

“What's in it for you?” Dylan narrowed his eyes. In his experience, people didn't offer something for nothing. “If I don't take a dog, you don't get paid.”

Gage glared at him, his eyes warning Dylan to shut up, but she laughed at him. “I offer the PTSD dogs as part of a nonprofit foundation. Anything paid for the dog goes back into the organization to rescue more dogs for training. I only take a small salary. It's enough to meet my needs.”

He hadn't expected that. Nor did he expect the way her eyes softened as she continued. “It doesn't do anyone any good for you to get a dog you don't want. You won't connect, and the dog won't be able to reach you. This is a partnership between you and your animal. It can't be forced. We might even go out there and find that I don't have one to fit your needs.”

Dylan hadn't thought about that. He'd assumed that any dog would work, especially since he didn't think this would do any good. The fact that she was being completely honest with him, even if that meant failure on her part, made him want to trust her, at least a bit. He stared at her intensely, trying to figure her out. He couldn't help but feel some of the weight on his shoulders lift as she smiled at him and her face lit up.

“Well?” The monster-dog plopped down at her feet, laying his head on his paws, and looked up at him. He felt his resistance caving.

“As long as it's not a horse like that one, I'll give it a shot.”

“This will be great.” She turned and patted Gage on the arm. “You'll see.”

J
ULIA WATCHED FROM
the back patio as Dylan swam laps in the pool. He moved with fluidity, barely making a splash as he cut through the water with practiced ease, but the way he swam troubled her. He didn't act like a man getting some exercise, but a man running from something, working his body to exhaustion.

She'd tried her damnedest to get the man to crack a smile, but nothing seemed to break through his brooding reserve. Gage, on the other hand had been friendly, asking various questions while she worked on basic obedience with the three dogs she had brought back from the shelter. She liked him and wondered how similar the two brothers might have been before Dylan's diagnosis. Tango moved to her side and sat down, watching out the screen door. She absently let her hand fall to his head, reaching for his itchy ear.

Somehow she was going to need to bring up the subject of Dylan's PTSD, but so far she'd had difficulty drawing him into even the safest conversations. He was definitely a man of few words. But without discussing what requirements he was going to have for his dog, he might end up with a mismatched animal. He was already skeptical about this process; there was no sense in setting him up for failure.

She saw him swim into the shallow end of the pool, swiping the water from his shaved head. Her eyes followed the water as it trickled over his granite wall of a chest.

That man was a chiseled god. With a square jaw covered in a day's beard growth, his caramel skin was colored by a tribal tattoo that ran from just behind his ear, down his neck, and over one dark pectoral. The intricate design continued over his arm and enormous bicep onto his forearm. She noticed a scar on the side of his head and wondered if it had occurred as part of his injury. If so, this man had a story she was going to need to hear. Tango stood up, pulling her back to the present, and she turned to see who approached behind her.

She didn't miss the worry in Gage's deep brown eyes. “You really think you might be able to help him?”

Julia tipped her head to one side. “I do. But it's really going to depend on how willing he is to make this work.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

Julia jumped and spun to see Dylan standing at the screen door, wrapping a towel around his waist. He slid the door open and stepped inside. He towered over her, resolved yet intimidating. She took a step backward as he looked down at her. He was so close she could smell the chlorine and sunshine on him, and she felt her heart skip a beat before speeding up double time.

“Give me a minute to get dressed and you can show me these dogs.”

“Okay,” Julia agreed, trying to catch her breath as Dylan moved past her and headed down the hall. She saw Gage stare at her, a moment longer than he should have.

“Um”—she tried to compose herself again—“any idea what sort of dog your brother might be looking for? What does he like to do? Hobbies?”

“Do you mean now or before?”

“Either, I guess.”

Gage shrugged one shoulder. “He used to be a pretty active, outdoorsy kind of guy. He doesn't really do anything now that he used to and, being special ops, his life was pretty much the job. There wasn't much time for hobbies when he could be deployed at a moment's notice.”

“Special ops?” Neither of them had mentioned that to her.

“Bragging about me again, Gage?” Dylan sauntered into the room with a confident swagger she hadn't seen from him before. She wondered if Dylan was proud of his own accomplishments or just pleased that his brother was proud of them. He slung an arm around his brother's neck playfully. “What do you say we go look at these mongrels of hers?”

Julia held her tongue, even as she felt resentment stir. Her dogs might be shelter rescues, but that didn't make them less capable. In many cases, it gave them the best traits of more than one breed. As if sensing her displeasure, Gage glared at his brother in silent reprimand.

“Tango, watch.” The dog moved to the front door and sat down, his ears lifted and on full alert. “Let's go.”

“You mean to tell me that monster will guard your front door?” Dylan sounded doubtful. Both men followed her out the back door and headed toward the kennels.

She nodded. “Until I release him from the command.” He looked dubious. “Would you have defied an order from your commanding officer?” She saw the flicker of resentment in his eyes at her audacity to compare him to a dog. She hadn't meant to ruffle his feathers, and attempted to smooth things over. “It's the same thing with the dogs. They see me as their leader and do what I ask because they enjoy their job and they trust me. I assume it was the same for you.”

She saw Gage hide a grin as Dylan's frown deepened and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. She could tell she'd only managed to make things worse. Every muscle in his body seemed to tense and she saw his huge biceps flex, as if he was clenching his fists.

“So,” Gage began, trying to break the current of tension crackling in the air, “we only have a small house in North Carolina, but it's got a pretty good-size yard.”

That was the slight accent she detected.

“You won't have the dog in the yard much, unless you're with it. You'll want to keep your dog with you all day.”

“How am I supposed to get a job that way?”

Julia stopped and turned to face him. “It depends on what your dog does to assist you. Service animals are protected by the Disabilities Act, and you can take him to work with you.”

“I am
not
disabled,” Dylan growled, the muscle in his temple moving as he clenched his jaw.

Julia stopped, frozen on her feet, and stared at Dylan for a moment before relaxing. Although he was completely capable, something in his eyes reassured Julia he wasn't going to hurt her. He was injured, physically and emotionally, but she knew bravado when she saw it.

“Yes, you are. I can either sugarcoat this for you, like I'm guessing a lot of people have”—Julia glanced at Gage—“or I can help you. It's up to you, but I'm not going to lie to you, Dylan.”

She pushed open the door to the kennel and they were greeted by excited yips and barks. Julia reached for several leashes hanging near the entrance and headed down the aisle, stopping in front of a short-haired German shepherd and retrieving him from the run. She moved across the aisle and brought out a border collie and a black Lab. As she looked back at Dylan and Gage standing near the door, she could see that while Gage looked overwhelmed, Dylan was searching the eyes of the dogs. It surprised her when he'd been resistant to the idea of a dog so far.

“Dylan, why don't you walk up and down and see if there's another dog that you seem to connect with.” She gave the dogs she had on leash the command to sit, and all three relaxed at her feet while Dylan frowned again.

Was this the man's only facial expression? His lips tightened into a thin line, body coiled as if ready to strike. She had yet to see him relax, even slightly.

She saw him stop for a moment at the run with a large mastiff before moving on. He squatted down on the balls of his feet, his fingers curling through the chain-link of the run at the end. “This one,” he whispered, almost too quietly for her to hear.

She gave the three dogs beside her the command to stay and walked toward Dylan. She smiled when she saw he'd stopped in front of Roscoe, a beautiful golden retriever who'd been rescued after being abandoned in an empty warehouse. “Here.” She put the leash into his hand. “This is Roscoe. Roscoe, meet Dylan.” She reached for the dog's collar and allowed Dylan to clip the leash on him. “Now let's go play.”

D
YLAN WAS BEGINNING
to wonder if this woman was insane. It started when she talked to the animals as if they were human, but watching her run around, leaping and jumping with them in the yard, confirmed his suspicions. All four dogs seemed to be enjoying the time with her, and, he had to admit, he couldn't help but enjoy the view it gave him of her curvy rear. But he wasn't about to make a fool out of himself the way Gage was, romping on the grass with four dogs.

Dylan sat on the stoop and leaned back on his hands, crossing his ankles in front of him, while he scanned the fenced enclosure. He was glad it was chain-link, which gave him the ability to take in the entire surroundings. He hated how he was constantly on alert for threats, even when he knew there weren't any. “I thought we were supposed to work with them.”

She stopped playing and looked at him. “We are working. Part of the work you'll be doing will simply be bonding with your dog.”

Roscoe moved away from the other three dogs and walked to where he reclined, climbing the steps to sit beside him. “I don't see the point in this. How is playing tag with a dog going to help me stop nightmares or relax when I feel a panic attack?” Dylan sighed, frustrated. “This is just one more thing that isn't going to work.”

The dog lay down with his head over Dylan's thigh and looked up. Without warning, Roscoe nudged him in the belly. Dylan ignored him. “I'm tired of the medications, the therapy visits and—” Dylan sat up, putting a hand on the dog's back. “What's he doing?”

Julia smiled and walked toward him, leaving the other dogs in the yard. “His job. Technically speaking, he's redirecting you, making you focus on him and drawing you out of your head. Congratulations, Dylan, I think you have your dog.”

“What? I don't actually . . . ” He looked down at the dog's head, still lying in his lap, staring up at him with deep brown eyes filled with understanding. It was strange, but he really felt as if this dog had seen just as many trials in his life as Dylan had. “Abandoned, huh?”

“Yes. But he's been a very quick learner.” Julia sat down on the grass near Dylan's feet as Gage walked toward them from across the yard. She drew her knees toward her chest and wrapped her arms around them, smiling at him. “You should spend the rest of today getting to know him.”

He looked away from the dog to see her smiling at him again. Damn, if this woman didn't have the prettiest smile. He arched a brow at her suggestion. “Like what, a date?”

“It's a little like that,” she said, laughing.

“This is our new roommate?” Gage crossed his arms and looked down at him. “Roscoe, huh?” The dog flicked his eyes toward Gage when he heard his name, but otherwise he remained focused on Dylan.

“I'll just go put the other three away while you guys hang out back here. I'll be right back.” Julia clipped the leashes on the other dogs and led them back inside.

Gage laughed as she went inside. “Did you have to pick the one with the most hair?”

Dylan glared at his brother. “I don't think I actually picked him,” he pointed out. “He chose me. Now that we have him, how long before we can leave?”

“Why would you want to? You've got everything here you could possibly want, including a beautiful woman who is completely focused on you.”

“That is the last thing I need, right after a damn dog.” Dylan didn't know how to explain it to his brother, who didn't seem to see him as a burden. He needed to get back on his own two feet. “I don't understand why you aren't in more of a hurry to get home. You have a business to run.”

“You and I both know I can work wherever I have an Internet connection. Julia already assured me over the phone that I can use her Wi-Fi as long as I need it. Face it, we're here for the duration.”

“I don't want to
be
here.” Dylan jumped to his feet, knocking the dog from his leg.

“Tough shit,” Gage countered. “Julia was right about one thing. You're getting used to people lying to you. You're not getting any better sitting at home, hiding in your room. It's time you learn how to keep living, in spite of this.”

The dog pawed at Dylan's leg, but he ignored it as the pent-up fury bubbled over, like lava from a volcano. “You have no idea what you're even talking about.” He shoved his hands into the middle of Gage's chest, knocking his brother backward a few steps.

Roscoe began barking, moving between the brothers. “The hell I don't.” Gage took a step closer to his brother. “You want to take a swing at me? If it makes you feel better, then go ahead. It's not going to change anything.”

Roscoe jumped up on Dylan and grabbed a mouthful of denim at the knee of his jeans, growling as he tugged backward, knocking Dylan off balance. He stumbled and caught himself as the dog let go. It was enough to jolt him from behind the curtain of rage that dropped when he lost his temper. He stared down at the dog, who was watching him intensely, waiting to see what he would do.

“Gage, I . . . ”

“Don't,” he warned, waving a hand, dismissing Dylan's need to apologize. “If that doesn't prove that you need to be here, I don't know what will.”

J
ULIA HEARD
R
OSCOE
barking and locked the kennels quickly. Running back out to the yard, she recognized the dog's anxiety and made it to the door in time to see Gage storm off as Dylan dropped his head into his hands.

“Roscoe, down.” The dog immediately followed her command and lay at Dylan's feet, staring up at him. “Are you okay?”

“No.” He looked torn, as if he wanted to follow his brother. Or run in the opposite direction.

“Do you want me to go after him?” She wanted to help but wasn't sure what to do. With the dogs, she followed her instincts, but with Dylan, she had no point of reference.

“No.”

She took a step toward him, and he looked up at her from hooded eyes. “Dylan, you're going to have to open up to me. I know you want to keep it all bottled inside, but when you do, it's going to be a poison in there.”

He laughed but it was a painfully bitter sound. “Trust me, you don't want to know what's inside. It's like an atom bomb. If I took the lid off . . . ” He looked down at the dog. “What am I supposed to do with him now?”