Baby, Hold On. Stephanie Bond

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      Chapter Two

      Mike Nichols opened his mouth to apologize to the young woman, but she was already gone. He sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose.

      “Sorry about that,” he said to Dr. Greenwood. “I didn’t mean to snap at the lady.”

      “It’s my fault for leaving the door open,” Dr. Greenwood said, closing it. “Lacey is the local groomer. She brings her customers by sometimes if they’re due for a checkup. She meant no harm.”

      Not his proudest moment, Mike acknowledged with a grunt.

      In fact,” the doctor continued, “folks around here say she’s a bit of a dog whisperer.”

      Mike gave a derisive laugh. “A dog whisperer? What the heck is that?”

      The doctor shrugged. “She just has a way with canines. Calms them down.”

      Mike frowned and nodded to his black Labrador. “Sheridan doesn’t need to be calmed down. Three months ago he was the best search and rescue dog I’d ever worked with. Now look at him. He has zero energy and acts as if he’s afraid of his own shadow.” Frustration ballooned in his chest as he watched the once-fierce dog hunker down on the floor, trembling.

      Dr. Greenwood made a thoughtful noise as he glanced over Sheridan’s chart. “He seems to be healthy, but I’ll run a full battery of blood tests and review the scans, see if anything shows up. It might take a few days, though.”

      “Sheridan and I will be in town for a few weeks. I’m putting him through a refresher course at the military dog training facility.”

      The doctor frowned. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, at least until we know if there’s a physical problem.”

      “I won’t overwork him. But he hasn’t been in the field in a while, and I think the discipline will be good for him. For now I’ll just put him through familiar exercises until he can take an advanced class.”

      “You know your dog better than anyone,” Dr. Greenwood conceded. “How can I get in touch with you when the results of the tests come back?”

      “I’m staying in one of the cabins on Clover Ridge. My cell number is on Sheridan’s paperwork.”

      The doctor nodded, and the men shook hands.

      “Sheridan, come,” Mike said.

      At his dog’s hesitation, he bit the inside of his cheek.

      “Sheridan, come.”

      The dog pushed to his feet, slowly. Then he dipped his black head to pick up the pink stuffed bone the other dog had left behind and walked forward to allow Mike to hook a leash to his collar.

      Mike’s mouth tightened at the sight of the toy. “Sheridan, drop it.”

      But the dog only whined.

      “It’s okay,” Dr. Greenwood offered. “Lacey makes them for her customers. He can keep it.”

      Except Sheridan was an alpha dog—no pink toys allowed. “Sheridan, drop it.”

      More whining, no dropping.

      Mike blinked. He’d seen Sheridan balk at a command, perhaps be momentarily confused in the heat of the moment, but the dog hadn’t disobeyed a command outright since his early days as a training pup.

      “Er, perhaps he’s confused after the examination I gave him,” the doctor offered, opening the door and extending his arm toward the hallway.

      Mike acquiesced—the man had other patients. “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.” He led Sheridan out into the hallway, squashing the alarm that niggled at him.

      When they entered the lobby, the woman whose dog had barged into the exam room sat in a chair with a firm grip on the terrier’s leash. She made eye contact and gave him a little smile. She was cute in a gypsy sort of way, petite and earthy. With her brightly colored clothes and wild blond hair, he could see why people might attribute her success with dogs to mystical qualities. He didn’t believe in that stuff, but he did feel contrite for barking at her like a dog himself.

      “I’m sorry about earlier,” he said. “I overreacted.”

      “No need to apologize,” she said. “It was my fault.”

      “Lacey Lovejoy, meet Mike Nichols,” Dr. Greenwood said.

      She stood and extended a slender hand. He shook it, startled by the strength he felt there. But then again, hadn’t the doctor said she was a groomer?

      From the floor, her dog yapped a greeting, straining at the leash she’d reined in.

      “Sit,” she said, and the terrier obeyed.

      And so did Sheridan.

      Mike clenched his jaw, but saw his opportunity to get rid of the pink plaything. “Here’s your dog’s toy. Sheridan, drop it.”

      Again, only whining. Exasperated, Mike reached down to take hold of the stuffed toy. “Sheridan, release.”

      He wouldn’t. When Mike pulled, Sheridan pulled back until they were in a tug-of-war—which Sheridan won when Mike lost his grip. He was incredulous at his dog’s behavior.

      “He can keep it,” Lacey said.

      “That’s not the point,” he said evenly. “When I tell him to do something, he’s supposed to do it.”

      “He’s a search and rescue dog?”

      He nodded, surprised.

      “I recognized the decal on his collar,” she said, gesturing. “Is he training at the local academy?”

      “Yes…I mean, he will be. As soon as he’s well.”

      The woman crouched until she was face-to-face with his dog.

      Mike shifted uncomfortably.

      She angled her head. “He’s not sick. He’s…afraid.”

      Unable to contain his skepticism, he scoffed, “Oh? You’re a dog psychic?”

      She pushed to her feet, a little wrinkle marring her brow. “No. I’m a dog groomer.”

      “Well, when Sheridan needs a haircut, I’ll bring him to see you,” Mike said pointedly. “Otherwise, I think I’ll let the real doctor figure out what’s wrong.”

      Her face blanched. “Of course. I didn’t mean to interfere.” She turned to СКАЧАТЬ