Burn Zone, page 29
part #1 of Hotshots Series
“I don’t think they handle stray dogs that aren’t a threat. Fish and Wildlife will come for wild animals like bobcats on your property, but not dogs.”
“Thank goodness you’re not a bobcat.” Giving a nervous laugh, the guy glanced off into the hills before patting the dog again.
“There’s an animal shelter in Bend, about forty-five minutes away, but I think she needs a vet first. I’d go door-to-door to find an owner but that paw has me worried about walking her too much.”
“Good point.”
“Rain? What’s the commotion?” Shirley emerged from the house, walking a little slower than normal, but looking pretty with her long gray hair spilling down the back of a dress dyed the colors of an Oregon sunset.
Rain. He had to be one of the Portland grandkids—they all seemed to have hippie names. Rain, Skye, Lark and so on. And he was clearly used to bigger cities than Painter’s Ridge, where no one who worked for the town was coming out for a lost dog.
“Your...uh...neighbor found a dog.” Still holding the leash, Rain walked over to her. The name absolutely suited his lithe frame and natural grace to his strides.
“Garrick.” He offered a handshake after Rain transferred the leash to his other hand. He hadn’t grabbed the wheelchair gloves he usually used for longer treks, so his bare skin met Rain’s. And there it was again. Sparks, sure as a flint meeting steel, right when he could least do a damn thing about it. And because Shirley undoubtedly wouldn’t appreciate him macking on her much-too-young grandson, he glanced away.
“I’m gonna get that water. You think you can hold her?” Glancing down at Garrick’s chair, Rain offered the leash somewhat reluctantly.
“Yup. I’ll put the brakes on.” Garrick engaged the locks for his wheels. He was still getting used to all the bells and whistles on this one. It was a nice chair, far better than the old-fashioned clunky things he’d first had at the hospital. Ultralight. Racing style they called it, though that was a bit optimistic as far as he’d found. The thicker bicycle-like tires and red trim added to the sporty appearance. He’d been reluctant to give up the rental chair, get this one custom fit when he wasn’t sure how long he’d need it, but the insurance, which could be a bastard about some things, had paid up.
“I don’t know if I like the look of that dog. Too big. And you never know, might be aggressive.” Shirley shook her head.
“Seems like a sweetheart to me.” Garrick kept his tone light, not too argumentative, but the dog, who was currently twisted around trying to get at her scrape, seemed more scaredy-cat than fighter.
“Don’t let Rain talk himself into keeping her here. Mimi is downright territorial over her house. And we have to watch Molly at the park. She’s always goading bigger dogs.”
It wasn’t really Garrick’s place to be preventing Rain from anything, but he nodded. “Well, hopefully we’ll find the owner quickly. You’ve never seen this dog around?”
“No. But I can make some calls. And I’m on that neighborhood group thing.” She whipped out her phone, a newer model that one of the grandkids had talked her into.
Garrick largely avoided the online neighborhood group, which tended to complain about package stealers, lawn ornament movers and inconsiderate parkers, but it might be useful for something like this.
Shirley snapped a picture of the dog and got busy on her phone as Rain came back with a mixing bowl full of water. The dog waited patiently for Rain to set it down, then gulped down most of the water, tail wagging, still paying no mind to the leash. Yeah, she was a sweetheart all right, and someone had to be frantically looking for her.
“The vet will be able to tell us if she’s microchipped.” Rain patted the dog on her head.
“Yes. Cherry Pet Care on Main is where I go. They take walk-ins,” Shirley added, not looking up from the phone.
“Do you want me to take her?” Rain’s mouth quirked as he glanced between Garrick and the dog. “Or do you want to come? The vet might not...uh...do pro bono work on strays.”
“I’ll come.” Garrick got it. He’d been a broke college kid once upon a time too, and Rain didn’t look much older than twenty-two or so, which was a nice reminder not to go perving on his good looks again. “I’ve got a card the vet can use if needed. I’ll just need to grab my wallet.”
“Thanks.” Relief was evident in Rain’s wide eyes.
“No lost dog notices from the neighbors,” Shirley reported. “And you better hurry. The vet only has short Saturday hours. You sure you’re up for the outing, Garrick?”
“Nothing better to do,” he said lightly, but it was true. Weekends were the worst. No physical therapy. Fewer visits from his dad, who worked long hours at his Western-themed shop, which did a ton of tourist business. Friends were busy with their own lives, and inviting himself along was far more complicated than it used to be, as was finding his own fun. The dog was the most exciting thing to happen in a while, and that was just sad. “Besides, Rain said you were feeling under the weather. You rest and check the app, and we’ll handle the dog.”
It felt good to take charge of something again, even if it was simply logistics for the dog. He sent Rain to fetch old towels to protect his car from the dog’s wounds while he headed back to his place for his wallet, keys and crutches, which went in the holder on the back of his chair, another spiffy feature that helped. No time to change clothes though. Not that he needed to care what sort of impression he made on Rain or the vet or anyone else.
Rain met him at his car, a small SUV, with the dog waiting on her leash.
“So...dog goes in the back seat and your wheelchair in the cargo area? That sound okay?” Rain asked, not told, which was nice, especially when he continued after Garrick nodded. “Can you tell me how best to help you? Is the car too tall for you?”
A lot of people would have made assumptions and started doing things at this point, but Rain gave him space, both literal and figurative, which Garrick appreciated.
“I can stand to transfer.” Pulling up even with the passenger door, Garrick demonstrated. “Tall is actually easier. If you want to fold the chair and stow it, that would be great.”
“No problem.” Rain wheeled it around to the back of the SUV.
“It’s pretty sturdy,” Garrick called as he hefted himself into the passenger seat, suddenly weirdly on edge. “It collapses by pulling on the seat cushion, but don’t try to force anything.”
“I’ve got you. Not my first time folding a chair. You’re safe with me, promise.”
“Thanks.” Strangely, Garrick found himself nodding. He did feel comfortable with Rain, even though he was younger and a stranger and his car was old enough to not exactly inspire confidence. And the gentle way that Rain loaded up the dog helped too. He didn’t have the brashness Garrick associated with a lot of guys his age. And he seemed good-natured, the way he’d rolled with having his Saturday upended by Garrick and the dog. All in all, Garrick could have done a lot worse for an unexpected rescuer, and despite the seriousness of their task, he found himself almost eager to spend more time with him.
Danger. Abort. Bad idea. Nice as it was to remember what attraction felt like, he wasn’t up to flirting let alone anything else, and Rain was the trifecta of probably straight, too young and way off-limits. Better he simply focus on the job at hand and not let himself get carried away with anything else.
* * *
Grandma’s neighbor was hot. Like distractingly so, with broad shoulders and biceps for days coupled with a movie-star-worthy face—chiseled facial features and piercing green eyes and shaggy hair that danced between dirty blond and light brown. But Rain was supposed to be focusing on the dog, not Garrick, and on driving through a town he’d only visited a couple of times since his grandmother moved. She refused to call it a retirement, but buying a house had been her admitting that maybe her years on the art festival circuit were coming to a halt, and providing her fabric crafts to a nearby touristy place was more her current speed.
“So you visiting for the weekend?” Garrick asked as Rain followed his phone’s GPS directions toward downtown.
“No, I’m supposed to be here for a couple of months. I took the spring term off college, thought I might see what seasonal work I could find around here, help Grandma out at the same time.”
“That sounds nice. I’m sure she could use the hand.”
“Eh. She’s like her dog—rather territorial about her place. It was my mom’s idea, so we’ll see if it sticks.” Rain did love Grandma, but so far she hadn’t let him anywhere near her sewing machine or dye buckets so he wasn’t sure how much help he was actually going to be. “I had an interview this morning for a bartender gig—that’s why I’m dressed up—but I don’t think I passed it.”
“Oh?” Garrick didn’t sound judgmental, merely curious.
“Yeah. It’s the clubhouse at the golf course south of town. I didn’t know half the drinks they quizzed me on, and they asked how I felt about a haircut.”
“Ouch.” Garrick laughed. “Yeah, don’t do that. Keep looking. Plenty of other seasonal jobs.”
“You’d know, right? I thought Grandma said you were a smoke jumper?”
“Yep.” Garrick didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, instead looking out the window, and Rain couldn’t blame him—he’d get the scoop from Grandma about Garrick’s injuries rather than bug him for gory details he probably didn’t want to share.
“That’s cool. I’ve got some applications in with the forest service and other places since some of my classes were pre-fire academy. I didn’t get a slot for this year though, hence taking a term off.” He kept his voice casual. The Portland Fire Academy was notoriously competitive so he was trying hard not to take it too personally, but man it had hurt to not even make the short list of applicants who would be considered for fall placements. Oh, well. On to the next adventure.
“You can park up here.” Garrick pointed to a lot next to a brick building with a cheerful sign with dogs and cats on it. “And don’t let it get you down, kid. Don’t give up on the dream.”
Kid. Okay. So much for Hottie Neighbor. No one called him kid these days and got away with it. Quietly seething, he found the closest spot to the door. He might be irked, but he was still careful with the wheelchair and crutches as he unloaded them for Garrick.
“Need my arm?” He knew better than to hover, but still wanted to make the offer if Garrick needed assistance.
“Nah. I’ve got it.” Garrick smoothly transferred from the car to the chair, then waited for Rain to unload the dog. “That’s a good girl.” Garrick stuck out his hand and this time the dog sniffed it, even without a treat. She seemed to be warming up to both of them, even though she was noticeably skittish as they approached the door. Once inside, she plopped down, almost like she was trying to hide behind them.
“Now, who do we have here?” A receptionist in kitten-print scrubs and pink glasses peered over her desk at them. Garrick explained about finding the dog, and the receptionist nodded sympathetically. “It shouldn’t be too long a wait for the vet. I’ll need a name for her though, just to start a chart.”
“Name?” Garrick looked over at Rain like he might have the answer, which was nice, being consulted like that. Usually take-charge guys like Garrick didn’t slow down long enough to solicit other opinions. Which Rain had.
“If they can’t find an owner, you want her to have a great shot at adoption. Pick something fun and gentle for her maybe? Approachable? She looks all tough, big black dog, but really she’s almost shy. Aren’t you, sweetie?”
As if she knew she was being talked about, the dog crept forward to nose at the treat bag Rain was holding.
“No, you can’t have another cookie,” he said firmly.
“Cookie.” Garrick smiled, and it was a great smile, wide and welcoming, the sort of easy charmer who probably had tons of friends. “That’s it. At least we know she’ll come to that. And you can put my address for now.”
After the intake information was handled, they were shown to a little room with a window facing a garden and a cheery mural on the wall.
“You and your son can wait in here while I take Cookie for her weight and temperature,” the receptionist said to Garrick, making Rain snort. The dude wasn’t that old. Mid-thirties maybe. His messy hair and facial scruff made him look older, but he didn’t have any gray yet. For himself, Rain was used to looking young. Probably one of the reasons the bartender gig had fallen through. The manager guy had sounded like he didn’t trust Rain to not be slipping drinks to underage buddies.
“Not the son. Just another neighbor,” Rain said quickly before she could leap to her next assumption that Garrick was the sugar daddy with the credit cards. Not that Rain would necessarily mind, but this was a small town, and Garrick had “sports-loving dude bro” written all over him.
“Ah. Well, Cookie is lucky to have you both. I’ll check on a microchip while we’re in the back.”
“Man, I hope she’s got the microchip and a nice owner on file,” Garrick said as the receptionist and Cookie left, leaving Rain to take one of the seats in the room.
“Yeah, she’s a great dog.” Personally, Rain didn’t have as much hope of an owner—no collar, and despite a sturdy build the dog looked like she hadn’t had a good meal in a few days.
“So, tell me about these firefighting classes you were taking. What certs do you have?” Garrick asked like he actually cared about the answer and not like he was just looking to kill time. Which made Rain give him a real answer, one that kept them talking about his rather eclectic collection of community college classes until a vet tech brought Cookie back.
The tech was followed by a woman around Garrick’s age who had to be the vet, judging by the stethoscope around her neck. “I have good news and bad news,” the vet said as she shut the door behind her. Cookie now sported a white mitt on her paw and a shaved patch around the scrape on her side, but seemed in good spirits. “Which do you want first?”
“Good,” Rain said, right as Garrick said, “Bad.”
“Okay. Both it is.” The vet laughed. She had kind eyes and short dark hair, and Cookie was already nuzzling up to her, looking for treats. “Well, no microchip for one. No lost dog calls here either. But good news—she’s been spayed and other than a large thorn in her paw and the scrape on her side, she’s pretty healthy. I’d guess she’s a year or two old. We’ve cleaned her wounds, and she’ll need to keep the mitt on her paw for a couple of days. I’d like to do a round of antibiotics because the side scrape did look somewhat infected to me, but that’s largely out of caution.”
“What’s the rest of the bad news?” Garrick sounded like a guy who had heard more than his share of it over the years, not reacting to the better news about Cookie’s health beyond stretching out a hand for her to warily sniff again.
“I’m assuming you’re hoping to get her off your hands, but our kennel is full of patients who need overnight care. Lydia called the shelter in Bend, and they’re full as well, including foster homes that could handle an injured animal. They can stick a picture of her up on the found page, but they’re not sure they can get her a place before they close tonight. A number of the rescues are in a similar boat—either they’re very breed- and size-specific or they aren’t taking new animals right now. I’ll be honest—her size and her breeds along with the injuries are going to make her a tough placement, especially on a weekend.”
“Heck.” Wide shoulders deflating, Garrick studied his hands, which left Rain to pet Cookie.
“I can work on Grandma. Maybe by Monday, her owners will be found.”
“She said no,” Garrick reminded him. “And she’s got the other dogs to think about. It makes sense. My friends in the country would be good, but they just added a third dog—I doubt they’re going to be up for one more already. I can see who else might be able to help.”
“How about you?” Rain turned on the sort of smile that usually brought him good luck.
“Me?” Garrick blinked.
“Yes, you. You’d be perfect.” Nodding, he leaned forward, waiting for Garrick to embrace the obvious.
Don’t miss
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Copyright © 2020 by Annabeth Albert
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