"She always looks hungry.That's a Malinois survival strategy."
The corner of his mouth lifts.Almost a smile.He's been doing that more in the last twenty-four hours than in the entire time I've known him, and each time I see it, something in my chest expands.
"Eggs?"he asks.
"Please."
He plates the eggs, adds toast, and sets it in front of me at the table.Then he sits across from me with his own plate and eats like a man who's been up since dawn working.Which he has.I can see the damp collar of a towel hanging on the bathroom door.He showered, fed the dogs, started coffee, and didn't wake me.
"How long have you been up?"I ask.
"Five."
"What time did we fall asleep?"
"Three.Maybe three-thirty."
Less than two hours of sleep, and he's already done his morning rounds, showered, and cooked breakfast.The man runs on discipline and adrenaline, and the caretaker in me wants to force him back to bed.
The other part of me wants to go back to bed with him for entirely different reasons.
"Koda's calmer this morning," Stephen says between bites."I checked his run first thing.He was lying down.Relaxed posture.Didn't start pacing when I approached."
"That's the decompression work from yesterday taking hold.His nervous system got a chance to reset."
"I know."He looks at me over his coffee.Direct.Honest."You were right.About the threshold mapping.About the cortisol recovery windows.About all of it."
Those five words from this man are worth more than a standing ovation at a conference.Stephen Nelson doesn't admit he's wrong easily.He doesn't admit anything easily.And the fact that he's sitting across from me with bed-rumpled hair and an open expression, conceding a professional point without hedging, tells me that last night changed more than just the space between us.
"I want to integrate your protocol," he says."Full program.Not just Koda.All the dogs."
"That's a significant overhaul."
"I know what it is.I also know that I've been training these dogs the way I was trained, and the way I was trained nearly killed me."He sets his fork down."In the Guard, they push you until you break, and then they push harder.Maximum pressure, maximum output.It works for the mission.It doesn't work for the person."
"Or the dog."
He reaches across the table.Takes my hand the way he did last night, fingers threading through mine, palm to palm."Teach me your way.I'm asking."
I squeeze his hand."I'll need more than three weeks."
Something shifts in his eyes.A flash of want so naked it steals my breath."Then stay longer."
My phone vibrates on the counter behind me.I ignore it.The phone vibrates again.And again.
Stephen glances past my shoulder."That's insistent."
I release his hand and reach for the phone.
Three messages from Clara Whitmore, the veterinarian in town.We met briefly at Maggie's Diner two days ago when I stopped for coffee, and she'd been warm and welcoming in the way this entire town seems to be.
Clara Whitmore:
Hope I'm not overstepping but I heard from Ryan that you're working with Stephen's K9 program.I'd love to compare notes on trauma recovery protocols.Coffee?I'm at the clinic until noon.
Also heard you might have spent the night at a certain mountain rescue facility and I want you to know that Grizzly Ridge gossip travels at the speed of light and I'm living for this.
Maggie says hi and also says it's about time someone thawed that boy out.Her words.I'm just the messenger.
