Pamela Tracy - The Soldier's Valentine

Gail had a right to be annoyed. Ray worked for a leasing agency doing landscaping and repairs on their real estate property and rentals. Leaves didn’t stop needing to be raked, and trash didn’t carry itself to the bin.

A snort sounded to Leann’s left. She looked, realizing the sound had come from Wilma the dog. She moved her gaze up the grassy knoll to Wilma’s owner, who sported a look of disdain. Great, even total strangers could look at her family and guess “dysfunctional” almost immediately.

Wilma strained at her leash and tried to pull the man toward Leann, who took a few steps closer to the swing set.

“Bleip,” she ordered the dog, telling it to stay. Turning to the man, she said, “Control your dog, sir. And if you have no business with these folks, could you please move along.” Then she turned back to face her sister, and said, “Gail, you head home, not the guesthouse, but the main house. I’ll call Clarissa and tell her you’re on the way. Ray, go to your brother’s house for the night.”

“No, I’m going to my own house,” Ray said.

Gail immediately protested, “It’s not your house. Tell him, Leann.”

“Or I can bring you both into the station and book the pair of you for disturbing the peace.” Leann shrugged.

Ray mouthed a word that Leann pretended not to hear. “Fine. I’m going.”

Gail marched away. In a matter of minutes, she was nearing the sidewalk by the softball field. She had only a block to go to arrive at their parents’ home.

“I got laid off,” Ray said to the man holding onto the dog. “It happens.”

The man didn’t so much as shrug.

Leann took out her cell phone and hit a button. Clarissa answered at the first ring, her voice—as always—upbeat and reassuring. Leann knew at least one person in the Crabtree home had her back.

“Gail’s coming to see you. Let her in the back door, give her some cookies and coffee, listen to her cry and please try to calm her down.”

The housekeeper laughed, like she always did with their overly dramatic episodes, and promised warm cookies for Leann, too, if she wanted them. She did; her thighs didn’t.

After ending the call, Leann studied the man and dog. Wilma promptly dropped to the ground, rolled onto her back and waved paws in the air. She either wanted her stomach rubbed or she was having a fit.

Leann admonished, “It’s not wise to follow a police offer to an incident.”

He nodded, his face somber, but one corner of his mouth twitched a bit. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure...” His words trailed off. “I’ve just never seen an incident handled quite like that. You able to boss the entire town? Is that why even Wilma listens to you?”

Leann didn’t answer. She was tired and it was none of his business. She assessed the situation. “Do you not have someplace you should be?”

Something changed in his eyes, a wariness that hadn’t been there before. Nevertheless, he chuckled. “I’m staying over at Bianca’s Bed-and-Breakfast. You can call her if you want.”

“I might do that.”

He fell in step beside her as she made her way back to the police cruiser.

The nearness of him, how the night shadows swayed, made her walk faster. She wasn’t scared of him; after all, she held the baton, she had a Glock and his dog listened to her more than it did to him.

No, with him beside her, she felt a little more worried about her reaction to him. It had been a long time since she’d been around a man who made her notice his nearness, made her aware of the heady scent of masculinity and how fun a walk in the park could be. So, she walked faster. When she got to her cruiser, he stayed on the sidewalk and watched as she opened the door.

He stopped her right before she got in the car with, “Was that German?”

“Yes.”

“How did you know to give Wilma orders in German? I’ve had her a week and it never occurred to me.”

She didn’t want to share her past, about living in Germany, the military life and leaving her ex-husband, so she merely quipped, “Guess I’m smarter than you.”

He chuckled again, and it reminded her of the way he’d spoken to the dog, not losing his temper, not getting excited, just calm and low-key.

She slid behind the steering wheel, started the the engine and backed out of the parking lot. Heading in the direction of the station, she first quickly glanced in the rearview mirror.

He was gone.

Maybe she wasn’t smarter than him. After all, he’d gotten her name thanks to Gail and Ray, but she—a cop!—had neglected to find out his.

CHAPTER TWO

GERALDO “GARY” GUZMAN opened one eye and glanced at the clock. Just past four. That dog sure knows how to bark. His mind registered the fact even as his body automatically exited the bed. A whole month out of the service and he still had the soldier mind-set.

Once his feet hit the carpet, he grabbed a pair of old jeans from the floor, pulled them on and then took Wilma out to the back of his aunt Bianca’s bed-and-breakfast to do her business. She took her sweet time, exploring the bushes for the enemy, and then looking at him expectantly.

“Do your business,” he ordered. It was the one command she seemed to understand in English but only if he squatted, which made him feel like a three-year-old.

Hours later, it wasn’t her I-need-to-go-to-the-bathroom bark that woke him. It was a loud crunchy gnawing. He opened one eye, rolled over so he could see what she was doing and realized his tennis shoe was now mangled.

She also knew how to chew clothes, furniture and pretty much anything else in her path. And, she always decided to gnaw loudly on a bone or persistently bring a chew toy to his lap just as he’d settled down to watch television.

Gary realized if he was to save the other shoe, he had to do something to distract her. He got into his jeans again and led the dog to the back door, taking her outside. Once he’d let her run around for a while and sniff every inch of the backyard, he let her inside and turned to go upstairs. He wanted one more hour of sleep. That had been his goal since exiting the army. He wanted to sleep when he wanted to sleep, eat when he wanted to eat and do nothing when he wanted to do nothing.

Wilma was worse than his commanding officer.

He’d made it only halfway through the kitchen when he stepped on something: a mangled personalized Bianca’s Bed-and-Breakfast oversize coaster. His aunt was being a good sport, but she’d suffered from Wilma’s high jinks and had two guests complain about the dog’s barking.

“I’ll add dog friendly to the inn’s description,” she’d brushed it off when he’d apologized.

At least now, thanks to the cop from last night, Gary had an idea. He sat down at the computer in the family room, plugged in the inn’s password and started researching.

He’d just hit Print and the paper was still warm in his hand, when his aunt Bianca came up behind him.

“I just had two interesting phone calls, both concerning you.”

He turned around. “Really? Why? About the dog?”

“One of them was about the dog. Our neighbors who live in the green single-story a few houses down. Guess the husband’s having trouble hearing the television.”

As if knowing she were the topic of conversation, Wilma barked. Gary glanced down at his list, found the word for quiet and loudly said, “Ruhig.”

Bianca Flores raised an eyebrow, Wilma barked louder.

“I’m sorry,” Gary said but Aunt Bianca held up her hand.

“Don’t worry about it. The husband is the kind who’d complain about a crack in the sidewalk even if he’d been the one to put it there.”

“I’m working with her. She’ll learn. She’s smart.” He checked the paper in his hand and tried again. “Ruhig!” This time, the dog listened. She turned and headed for the door to the backyard, lay on her back and began chewing her own paw while a giant bone lay unloved right next to her.