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Lito got in one last gawk as the man walked away. He looked just as good from the back as he did from the front.

  Damn.

  Chapter 2

  Dave got to the parking lot his usual half hour or so before everyone else. The team had a standing agreement with the state park system to use this little corner of the hiking trails for their twice-weekly practices, but arriving early meant he could make a point of being obvious about it. Two excited ninety-pound dogs off-leash and the giant “NORTH ALABAMA K-9 SEARCH AND RESCUE UNIT” sign on Dave’s Grand Cherokee tended to make other dog-walkers think twice before wandering through the middle of the search exercises. No hikers were around today, though, despite the comfortable September temperatures. Lumpy and Woozy got in a good long lope through the tall grass before the rest of the team arrived. Neither of them was as fast as they used to be—Lumpy was developing cataracts and Woozy’s arthritis slowed her down more often than not—but they knew the field well. It meant Dave was able to sit on the lone picnic table and enjoy the quiet without having to worry about either of them disappearing past the treeline. Eventually Lumpy brought him a stick and they spent a while playing fetch while Woozy chased butterflies.

  Dave knew that the chances of the cute guy from the pet store showing up were slim to none, but that didn’t stop him from hoping. The team could sure use him. Even though their core members had remained relatively stable over the years, fresh blood was always welcome. Especially fresh blood with a well-behaved dog. Spot—Dave had stopped being surprised years ago at how well he remembered dog names and how terrible he was with their human counterparts—had tolerated the hound mix pouncing on her fairly well, which was a promising sign. Her owner hadn’t freaked either. Dave took the stick from Lumpy and threw it again, causing the two dogs to bump hip-to-hip as they raced each other to retrieve it. The crunch of tires on gravel behind him heralded Rick and Sharon’s massive van.

  “Gorgeous weather tonight, isn’t it?” Sharon called out. “Heya, Dave.” She hopped out of the passenger seat and went to get Rick’s wheelchair from the trunk. Dave followed and helped reassemble the parts without even having to think about it anymore. “Looks like your two got started on the frolicking early,” she added.

  Dave turned around to see Lumpy rolling on her back in the grass, making totally undignified snuffling noises and ignoring him entirely. Woozy was flopped on her stomach, back legs out to the side, panting and grinning at the van. She had the stick trapped under her front paw like she expected it to get away. Playing before practice always made them act a decade younger…and then sleep for fourteen hours afterward. Dave shrugged. “I think they miss their pack when they’re home by themselves.”

  “Don’t really blame ’em,” Rick said from his post in the driver’s seat. “I miss us too.”

  “You’ve got your own pack,” Sharon countered. “Human and canine both.” Rick and Sharon’s boarding kennel wasn’t huge, but it was usually more than half full. Many of the dogs were regulars. No way in hell Dave would be able to deal with the constant noise, but Sharon always insisted it was the best burglar alarm ever. Running the kennel also let both of them be around animals—theirs and other people’s—for as much of their day as they could stand. The two of them were a damn good match for each other.

  Sharon and Dave helped Rick transfer down to the chair, then Dave let their dogs out from the back seat while Rick got himself settled. Scratch, the terrier, and Sniff, the bloodhound, both bounded from the van and immediately started mock-fighting with Lumpy and Woozy. It really was a beautiful evening to be outside—the day’s heat was slowly dissipating but it still smelled like summer. Dave retrieved the binder of NALSAR paperwork from his Jeep and went to join Rick and Sharon at the picnic table. Sharon chatted happily about her nephew’s soccer team while Rick and Dave half-listened and scratched out a bare-bones meeting agenda. Nothing like waiting until the last minute.

  Speaking of which… “I invited a new guy this weekend, by the way,” Dave interjected. The total non sequitur was enough to surprise Sharon into silence. Which was just as well, since the rest of the team would probably get there before Sharon finished her story otherwise. “No idea if he’s going to come,” he added, “but his dog was really sweet.”

  Rick raised one eyebrow. “Let me guess—the two of you chatted for a few minutes, mostly about dogs, then you pounced on him and invited him to practice without actually learning his name yet.”

  That was…embarrassingly accurate. Crap. “Well, his dog’s name is Spot…”

  “You,” Rick said, wagging a finger in Dave’s direction, “are wonderfully predictable. And always an optimist. Let’s hold off on mentioning this mystery man to everyone else until we see if he actually shows up though, okay? It’d be nice to have someone new now that you’re not running Lumpy and Woozy anymore, but there’s a long road between you extending the invitation and him actually getting his dog certified.”

  He had a point, much as Dave hated to admit it. Most new recruits didn’t stick around for more than a month or two, but that didn’t mean Dave’s invitations never bore fruit. Witness the fact that NALSAR was now six people (and seven dogs) instead of just him and Rick. The gradual growth of the team meant having actual team meetings and filing for non-profit status and a shit-ton of paperwork, but it also meant having enough scent-trained dogs that Lumpy and Woozy could enjoy their retirement. They still loved playing with the pack and got hopeful whenever Dave geared up for a call-out, but anything more than the gentle lope through the fields like tonight was beyond them now. It hurt to see them slowing down.

  The rest of the team straggled in over the course of the next twenty minutes, followed by the arrival of a little orange Saturn Dave didn’t recognize. He was all set to dissuade incoming hikers until he saw the driver. Well, passenger—Spot was sitting proudly in the front seat and taking it all in. Alert, curious, but not freaking out at the sight of the team or the other dogs.

  “Hey.” The guy from the pet shop got out of the car and gave a sheepish little wave. “I guess I’m in the right place. Should I let Spot out? I wasn’t sure whether you wanted me to bring her or not.”

  God, he was just as cute as Dave remembered—short and earnest, with his black hair slicked into a meticulous swoop over his forehead and wearing a peach polo shirt which had probably never in its life been accidentally thrown in with the wrong load of laundry. Dave had enough fashion sense to know he’d never be able to pull off the look himself. It definitely worked on the pet shop guy, though.

  The dude also had a tiny, sparkly diamond stud in his right ear, which Dave had somehow managed to miss earlier. Chances of him being straight plunged distinctly southward in Dave’s mind. Hell yes. He’d been hoping, after their previous meeting—the dude set Dave’s gaydar pinging like crazy—but Black Lake wasn’t the kind of place where you just blurted out things like “hey, nice to meet you, would it freak you out if I hit on you for a while?”

  Not that Dave intended to do that. Sex was for the occasional hookup in places that weren’t Black Lake. At the very least, though, the guy being probably-gay was making Dave feel like less of a perv for appreciating the finer points of his ass in those tight-cut jeans. Dude had a bubble butt well worth appreciating.

  “Let’s see how social she is,” Rick said, after Dave had been standing there silently for what was probably a bit too long. “Dogs leashed and everyone get in a circle, please—we can do human introductions while the pups sort themselves out.” He motioned for the guy to have a seat on the edge of the picnic table. “Usually we put ’em on long leads and let them romp together a bit while we have our team meeting, but we try to be a bit more controlled when we’ve got a newcomer. Oh, and don’t be embarrassed if you forget all our names.” He jerked his head toward Dave. “This twit is terrible with them, but we still let him keep coming back.”

  “Dave, right?” the guy said instantly, looking u
p at him with an innocent openness on his face. It made Dave wish they were already good enough friends that he could earn that smile a lot more often. “I’m not gonna forget someone who names his dogs Lumpy and Woozy.”

  Of course he would remember names. For both Dave and the dogs. “They’re short for Heffalump and Woozle,” Dave explained. “Like from Winnie the Pooh? The nicknames were just too good to pass up.” He whistled, the two short tones that meant get your asses over here, and Lumpy and Woozy both came tearing over to plonk their butts down as close to his legs as possible. “I’m not going to forget a yellow lab named Spot, either. Lab mix?”

  “He did blank out on yours,” Rick interjected with a grin, “but don’t take it personally—it’s because you’re not a dog. I’m Rick Sulzer, and my wife Sharon’s over there with our own pups. Scratch is the terrier/Pitt mix and Sniff is the bloodhound.”

  “Lito Apaza. Nice to meet you.”

  Lito. Got it. Dave repeated the name a dozen different ways in his head so he wouldn’t embarrass himself like that again. Rick already had enough ammo. Now all Dave needed was to screw up and call the dude Lisa or something by mistake.

  “Go ahead and put Spot on her leash and bring her around to the dogs one at a time, okay?” Rick said.

  Soon they had a reasonably well-behaved circle of dogs and handlers, spaced far enough apart the dogs couldn’t reach each other but close enough the humans didn’t have to shout to be heard. There were some playful growls and a lot of whining and snuffling, but Spot seemed genuinely enthusiastic about meeting so many potential new playmates. Even Scratch didn’t lose her shit when Spot came to investigate her—that was probably a first. Lumpy and Woozy both snuffled Spot politely and then flopped back down to lie on the grass.

  The people introductions went well too, although Dave had a sneaking suspicion Lito was more than a bit overwhelmed by it all. Everyone was polite and friendly, but there was definitely an undercurrent of “fresh meat, must impress” which would have put off anyone. Probably best to get to the actual training and save the business meeting for the end. Rick offered no objection to the sotto voce suggestion, so Dave called an end to the meet-and-greet and started dividing everyone up for practice runs.

  “Sharon, Scooter, Steve, the three of you take the north trail and run Nikita on a nice and easy single-person find to start with.” This part, the logistics of training, was a piece of cake. It was also something he could still help with even with Lumpy and Woozy out of the game. “Scooter, I want you behind a tree about fifty yards off the path somewhere to the left. Steve, pay extra attention to Nikita’s ears—last time she picked up on the scent but you rushed her past it, so she’ll probably need a find or two to trust her nose again. Janet, give Zeus’s toy to Lito and get Zeus ready for a ground search. Lito, you okay with being ‘lost’ and then found? I’ll walk you in on the south trail—I want to watch Zeus run this one.”

  Lito nodded. “As long as you’re telling me what to do, preferably using small words, I’m up for anything.”

  The team broke quickly into the two groups. Rick gathered the other dogs’ leads and looped them through the industrial-strength carabiner he’d clipped around the base of the picnic table. His job was usually to hold down the fort for the pups who weren’t practicing a search yet and to act as a buffer against any wayward hikers who pulled into the parking lot after practice was underway. The wheelchair made it impractical for him to do much off-trail work, but he was a genius at sorting through dog behavior issues and he usually took the time at base camp to work on making sure all the pack members played well with others. Adding Spot to the mix would be fun for the dogs and probably a nice challenge for Rick as well. Lito passed Spot’s leash off and obediently followed Dave to the trail entrance. It was more of a wide gap in the underbrush than a true trail, really, but Dave could probably have navigated the entire park blindfolded by now and had no problem picking it out from halfway across the field. Judging from the awkward rhythm of Lito’s steps as they worked their way past the treeline, the guy had a ways to go before he could say the same.

  “You’re not violently allergic to poison ivy, are you?” Dave asked, the question suddenly popping into his mind. “We can work around it if you are, but there’s a non-zero chance we’re gonna see some today.” The woods in Alabama were full of it, so “non-zero” was perhaps understating it a bit. At the very least, Rick could use some help setting up the incident command station when they got called out on a search. And dammit, Lito hadn’t even made it through one full practice yet, so Dave really ought to stop putting that cart before the horse.

  Lito just shrugged, though, and gingerly sidestepped the branch Dave was holding out of the way for him. “Never had the chance to find out if I’m allergic or not,” he answered. “I hope it comes down on the side of ‘not.’”

  “No poison ivy in Atlanta?”

  “No woods.”

  Dave tried to wrap his head around the idea of voluntarily living somewhere without trees nearby. It sounded like hell, to be honest—and far too much like the endless scrub he spent so long patrolling on the Pakistan/Afghanistan border. “No wilderness camping trips when you were a kid?”

  That won him an amused snort and another one of those addictive smiles. “I’ve never particularly been Boy Scout material,” Lito said. “And I grew up in the middle of Miami, also not known for its vast forests, so…yeah, this is all new to me.”

  Okay, so Dave couldn’t exactly picture Lito as a Boy Scout. He was doing a decent job of keeping up, though, which was promising. Dave drew them to a halt behind a fat hawthorn bush and checked the sight lines.

  “So do I just stand here?” Lito asked. “Or try to hide, or what?”

  “Right where we are is fine.” It was a warm-up run for Zeus and Janet, but the hawthorn was a good hundred yards into the woods and well off the trail. Zeus would have to use his nose no matter how visible Lito was from the sides or back. “You’ve got the toy?”

  Lito held up the chew rope and nodded.

  “Then all you need to do is to hang out and let Zeus come to you. He’ll come close enough to verify that you’re here, may sniff you a bit, then he’s—hopefully—going to run back to Janet. She’ll give him a ‘show me!’ command, he’ll acknowledge, and then he’s going to lead her back to you. When he finds you the second time, wait until she praises him and then give him the rope. It’s okay if he sees that you have it the first time, but don’t give it to him until he’s successfully completed the find.”

  “Got it.”

  “You got cell signal out here, just in case?”

  Lito dug a phone out of his pocket and swiped across the screen with his thumb to unlock it. “One bar.”

  “Let me get your number, then. In case of a sudden tornado or, I don’t know. Biblical plague, maybe.” Christ. Dave started berating himself the moment the request passed his lips. That had definitely not been his smoothest pick-up ever, but it felt like his one plausible shot at getting Lito’s digits and somehow, the idea of going home alone at the end of practice without a way to get back in touch was totally unthinkable.

  “Oh, are we expecting one of those?” Lito looked pointedly at the clear sky. It looked like he was attempting to keep a straight face, but his lips were twitching. Maybe Dave hadn’t put his foot in his mouth too badly after all. “Hmmm…I don’t give out my number to every strange man who asks, Dave-Schmidt-who-likes-Winnie-the-Pooh, but I think I might make an exception for you.”

  * * * *

  He got that I was teasing, right? I didn’t just totally embarrass myself? The little flirtatious comment had popped out all on its own with no input from Lito’s brain, probably because he’d been busy admiring Dave’s shoulders—and backside—during their short hike. Attempting to pretend “no really, I wasn’t checking you out just now” was doing a number on his ability to focus. Lito rattled off his numb
er and tried not to watch too keenly as Dave keyed it into his own phone.

  “Got it,” Dave said. “I’ll text you in a minute so you’ll have mine too. The official one on the NALSAR card I gave you is actually Rick’s.”

  His tone held absolutely no hint as to whether he’d been offended by Lito’s instinctive ‘hell yes’ response. Or had even caught the teasing subtext. It meant that when Dave headed back for Janet and Zeus, Lito was left standing in the woods alone and wondering whether Dave was questioning the wisdom of having invited him along to practice at all.

  The woods were beautiful aside from what was going on in Lito’s head, so he tried to make himself relax and appreciate the quiet. The heat of the day had already dissipated and a breeze was picking up, making the leaves around him rustle gently. Somewhere off to the left a bird was hopping around in the underbrush, popping in and out of view as it searched for worms or berries or whatever it was little brownish songbirds ate. Lito had never really taken the time to be out in nature like this, alone and with no agenda, but it was incredibly peaceful. The beep of a text alert a few minutes later actually made him jump.

  Janet is taking Zeus off-leash now. It may take a minute if he wants to run around and burn off steam first, but I promise I’ll come find you even if he doesn’t.

  Can’t promise you won’t find me strange, but I appreciate being the exception to your usual rule ;-)

  That answered that. Lito saved Dave’s number in his contacts list, the plain letter “D” where a photo should be reminding him that he hadn’t recalled Dave’s last name—the business card Dave had given him just said “NALSAR.” And had Rick’s number, apparently. The generic “Dave ???” was also an unwelcome reminder that almost every other person in Lito’s contacts list was either back in Atlanta or had to do with work. He hadn’t expected to make new friends in Black Lake immediately, of course, but he hadn’t put much thought into how much he appreciated his social life until he didn’t have it anymore. How long would it take to rebuild one? Months? Years?