Linda O. Johnston - Second Chance Soldier

She liked his quick smile and shrug. “And a dog-ranch owner without her dog?”

She laughed. “Come on. I’ll drive us to town.” She motioned toward the passenger side of her car. An expression she couldn’t quite read passed over his face but he said nothing. Surely he wasn’t some male chauvinist who expected to drive, even under these circumstances, when she knew the town a lot better than he did?

Or...was that somehow related to his PTSD? Had he somehow been injured in a car?

She wasn’t about to ask.

“I intended to meet you here first to make sure we were still on for tonight, then go get my car,” he said.

“No need.” She motioned for him to get into the passenger’s side, and with only another second’s hesitation, he complied.

Chapter 3

Amber started the engine and headed down the country road toward town, only a ten-minute journey. They soon passed the resort owned by Nathan, and Amber wondered how things were going with her mother’s non-date with him.

Evan remained silent. “How’s Bear doing?” Amber finally asked, determined to cast aside thoughts of her mom.

“Fine. I left him in the kitchen, though he’s a good boy and should do fine with the run of the house in the future.”

“I’ll bet.” She searched her mind for another topic he might be interested in discussing. “How was your drive from Los Angeles?” That was where he had been living when they first began communicating about the job.

“Some traffic, but not bad.” He looked straight ahead, not at her. She, though, glanced toward him. He appeared relaxed—and was as good-looking as she’d considered him before.

“Good.” She again watched the road in front of them. “I hope you don’t mind, but we’re making a couple of stops before dinner.”

“Really? Where?” He did look toward her now. Was he concerned about the location, or how many people he’d see, or...well, she had no idea.

“The local Pets and Products first. I need to pick up some dog food.” She’d also see one of her closest friends around here at the shop, the local franchise’s owner Mirrisa Jenkins.

Mirri would be happy for Amber, that she’d finally found someone to restart classes at the K-9 Ranch.

“I’d like to visit there, too,” Evan said. “I need some supplies for Bear.” He paused. “Where else?”

“You’ll like this one.” She hoped. “I need to see a guy at our local tech store. He maintains the ranch’s website, and I want him to let the world know that we’ll be starting more classes again.” When Evan said nothing, Amber wondered if he felt uncomfortable about the concept of “letting the world know.”

“Of course, if you don’t want your name mentioned, just tell me.”

He seemed to hesitate, but only for a second. “No, that’ll be fine—although, don’t you want to wait until you see how the classes work out before you start promoting again?”

“Are you saying you may mess up?”

Again a hesitation, but then Evan said, “Absolutely not. You’ve hired the right guy.”

“That’s what I figured.” Amber couldn’t cross her fingers easily since she was driving. But considering the other candidates, she believed what he’d said was true.

* * *

They were finally at the restaurant called The Joint.

Evan allowed his prior tension to ease up, relaxing his shoulders and breathing evenly. He would now get to start the conversation he had planned.

Not that he’d minded being at that Pets and Products shop. It was like every other one he had gone into over the years, and it sold the wholesome food that he always fed Bear, as well as the healthy treats he gave his dog, though not part of any training.

That friend of Amber’s—Mirri—kept looking from him to Amber and back again, as if assessing whether there was more than a new employer-employee association. He fought down the urge to tell her that what she was looking for was simply not there.

So far he liked Amber...sure. But if he finally got to the point, ever, when he was ready to start some kind of relationship with a woman again, it wouldn’t be one in a position to tell him what to do.

He’d had enough people doing that while he was in the military. Although his connections with his senior officers had been as expected and appropriate, he’d not been close friends with any of them. And now that he was fighting with his own psyche to regain internal balance, he wasn’t about to make things more difficult by getting involved with yet another person who was able to give him orders.

When they’d completed their purchases, they had gone around the corner from the pet store, which was on Chance Avenue, to the Cords and Clouds shop on Mercer Street. It was a small tech store run by a guy named Percy Relgin, who looked like the stereotype of geekiness: he was young and thin, with puffy hair and glasses. Amber had introduced them, then told Percy she wanted him to update the ranch’s website again, as he had recently. But this time he was to focus on Evan and add a description of his excellent lessons for pet dogs and potential trainers, which were about to begin, and to say that more classes, including police K-9 training and instruction for therapy dogs and possibly service dogs, too, would be scheduled eventually.

Evan sloughed off his concern about being able to meet her standards. He could do it. He would do it. And he forced himself to give Percy all the information about his background and skills that he asked.

Amber and Percy then talked briefly about the ranch’s email. Apparently the guy had figured out her father’s password, which now meant Amber could access what was there. Then they left.

The Joint was between the two shops, on the joined corner of their respective streets. He had noticed it when he had first driven through Chance on his way to the ranch. The restaurant owner knew Amber and greeted her right away. “I’ve got just the right table for you now,” he said, which was good since the place was crowded.

“Thanks, Gus,” Amber said. “By the way, this is Evan, my new dog trainer.”

“Hi, Evan.” Gus reached out to shake hands. He wore a black T-shirt and jeans, less dressy than the servers, who had on gray knit shirts and dark trousers. “Glad to meet you.” He preceded them between the tables, and Evan watched as Amber said hi and waved to several seated patrons.

At an empty table in the middle of the room, Gus handed them menus, then walked away.

The restaurant appeared to cater to everyone. Evan noted the assortment of families and couples and groups of men and women seated around tables similar to theirs: plastic with a wood-grain finish. The acoustics were what he’d anticipate in a place like this, with a hum of conversations that was loud but didn’t drown out the server’s voice when she asked what they wanted to drink.

Since they were here to discuss his questions he didn’t want any alcohol, not that he feared he wouldn’t stay sober, but because he wanted to appear professional. He ordered a cola.

“So,” Amber said once the server had gone. “What did you want to discuss tonight?”

He first asked about the ranch: how Amber’s father had started it, why it was at such a remote location and how he’d nevertheless lured in people from all over to learn how to train not only pets, but also police K-9s and therapy dogs. She responded that her dad believed in himself and wanted students to come to him and learn, with dogs, in a comfortable environment. And it had worked well, she told Evan, which he knew from Corbin Belott’s reputation on the internet rating sites and the numbers of classes he’d apparently taught. But Evan recognized her worry about the future and was both grateful and concerned she would be relying on him.