Page 74 of Rescued By the Dog Trainer

Eleanor Morgan sits at the long pine harvest table, her shearling coat unbuttoned over a blue wool sweater. Her silver hair is pinned tight in its usual bun. Steam curls from a heavy ceramic mug cupped between her palms.

She looks up as Juno and I step through the doorway. Her sharp hazel eyes take in my bare knee, the oversized flannel shirt, and my halting steps.

"Sit before you ruin that joint."

She nudges a wooden stool back with the toe of her boot, sliding a second steaming mug across the pine boards. The coffee is pitch-black and smells of chicory.

I lower myself onto the stool. Juno settles across my feet, resting her chin on my moccasins.

"You're out late in a blizzard."

"The snowcats cleared the lower road twenty minutes ago. No way I could sleep until word came whether our head trainer froze to death at Mile Marker Six." She takes a slow sip from her mug, her eyes tracking Juno's calm breathing.

"He's asleep in the back room."

"Good. He's needed a long sleep for five years."

She sets the mug down with a firm click against the pine.

I wrap both hands around the hot mug, letting the steam warm my face.

"On Day One, you handed me run seven's intake folder. You told me there was a shuffle in the schedule, and then you told me not to thank you."

Eleanor meets my gaze across the table, unblinking.

"I remember."

"Why Juno? There were six dogs in that barn. Sarah needed Tank's bulk for balance. Griff needed Chief's stability. Why assign a Malinois who refused to settle to a flight nurse who couldn't walk without hiding her limp?"

Eleanor leans back against the wooden chair, resting her hands on the table.

"I read your intake form. Commendations from here to Washington, and under Emergency Contact, you left the box blank. Nobody on this earth to call if you went down."

Her words hang in the warm kitchen, plain and unsparing.

"Then I walked down the aisle to run seven. A two-year-old Malinois stamped final placement because she paced her run and wouldn't settle. Juno wasn't refusing to settle. She guarded that fence line because nobody in the barn had the backbone to stay with her when things went bad. You didn't need a lap dog. You needed a partner that wouldn't let you hide behind that uniform. And Juno needed someone stubborn enough to hike through a blizzard on a ruined knee rather than leave someone in the dark. I didn't shuffle the paperwork by mistake. You were always a matched pair. Know what Angel's Peak has that not a lot of places have?"

"No idea."

"Skiing. And with skiing come accidents." Eleanor sets her palms flat on the table, her gaze dipping to my wrapped leg. "We get a lot of busted knees on this mountain, and with that come some of the best reconstructive knee surgeons in the country. Cole will get you set up with the best. That knee isn't done just yet." She pushes back her chair, rising to her feet. She buttons her shearling coat, pulls on her leather driving gloves, and picks up her truck keys from the counter. "As for Juno, make sure she passes her evaluation."

The mudroom door clicks shut behind her. Headlights sweep across the frosted kitchen window as her heavy Bronco rumbles down the lane toward town.

I sit in the warm kitchen for a long time, listening to the hum of the refrigerator and the steady breathing of the Malinois at my feet.

When I stand, my knee throbs with a dull ache. Juno presses against my right side as we walk down the wide hallway toward the clinic lobby.

Near the front double doors, the communal corkboard is lit by a low amber bulb.

Pinned to the cork beside the photographs of placed service dogs and smiling veterans is a fresh white index card written in Jason’s bold, heavy hand:

JUNO — FINAL EVALUATION: DAY 60 VEST CEREMONY. THE PICKAXE TAVERN.

I reach up, my fingers brushing the card, feeling the deep indentation where his pen pressed into the paper.

Behind me, the soft padding of socks on cedar warns of Jason's approach. His broad arms slip around my waist from behind, his chest pressing warm against my back as he rests his chin in the curve of my neck.

"Day sixty." His voice is a low murmur against my hair. "We're going to work hard, and Juno is going to pass her evaluations."