Colton K-9 Target
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Justine Davis
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16,8K
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37
Chapter 1
Annalise Colton knew how nervous she was because of how much she was talking to herself. Enough that she couldn’t even pretend that she was really talking to the dogs at her feet.
“Stop it,” she said in her best police K-9 trainer voice. “You’re even making them nervous.”
And now she was giving herself orders. Out loud.
She sighed and made herself turn away from the mirror. She’d done her best, and it would have to do; if she tweaked her makeup any further, she’d be doing more harm than good. She’d already gone from having her long blond hair up, back, then down three times, before finally giving up and just letting it fall loosely.
After Bennett had unceremoniously dumped her in public, it had taken her months to even think about dating again, despite wishing for a settled life and someone to share it with more than almost anything. But when she had finally steeled herself to try again, she had vowed there would be nothing but nice guys from here on out. They might not have Bennett’s flash, but they wouldn’t have his cruel streak, either.
“Nope,” she said to Jack and Apple, the shaggy canine duo she was fostering, “nothing but Mr. Nice Guy for me from here on out.”
The two dogs danced at her feet, tails wagging madly. They’d come a long way in the weeks since she’d brought them home, after some wrangling with her landlord. At first they’d been skittish, afraid of everything and nothing. Their true personalities—Jack goofy and bold, Apple quieter and more sensitive—were emerging. Soon potential adopters would be able to see that, instead of the fearful, cringing creatures they’d been when they’d come into the shelter. She only hoped they would be adopted together; hard times had bonded the two deeply.
That’s what I want. That kind of bond. The kind that says I’m there for you, no matter what.
“Dream on,” she muttered as she checked their food and water. If it went well tonight, she might be late. And it certainly seemed like it should go well; Sam was exactly what she’d been looking for.
Or at least he seemed to be, online. She’d been a little wary of using the popular Grave Gulch Singles app, but some of her friends swore by it. She’d trod carefully, and for some reason the fact that there were awful profiles as well as interesting and appealing ones made it seem more genuine to her. She’d messaged with a few guys who seemed nice, but then Sam Rivers had popped up.
That he was an ER doctor here in Grave Gulch—along with her sister Desiree’s fiancé, Stavros, also a doctor there, and she kept meaning to ask him about Sam—was what had caught her attention initially, and that he was warm, funny and kind had kept her messaging with him. And eventually chatting on the phone, where his nice voice and self-effacing charm had won her over. The man checked all the boxes, even a few she was embarrassed to admit to, like chiseled good looks and an even more chiseled body; that photo of him at the lake had taken her breath away. It was probably just as well hospital rules prevented him from video chatting; she’d probably get tongue-tied just looking at his handsome face.
But for her, it wasn’t just his looks. No, the icing on the cake was Charlie. The picture of Sam with his adorable beagle lovingly licking his cheek had melted her heart. Surely anyone dedicated to saving lives, anyone who could make a dog love him, had to be a nice guy, right?
And wouldn’t it be funny if she and Desiree both ended up with doctors? They could share experiences, commiserate on the downsides, and laugh at the weirdness of life together.
She shouldn’t have started getting ready so early, because now she had time to kill. Too much time to kill. And she would absolutely not change clothes yet again; this was a very nice—but not too nice—outfit, suitable for the Grill. Not that they’d throw her out if she showed up in rags, given her father owned the place.
Her phone signaled an incoming text, and the distinctive chime, a short riff from her little sister’s favorite song, told her Grace was checking in. They’d agreed when Annalise had first started using the app that she would always send Grace the details on any actual dates. She thought Grace was being a bit overly cautious, but wrote it off to her sister being a rookie cop. Yet another Colton in the Grave Gulch PD.
Ready?
As I can be.
Still on for the Grill?
Yes. She would have preferred this first face to face with the yummy Sam Rivers be somewhere else, but it seemed his heart was set on taking her to the most popular restaurant in town.
Just talked to Mom. She’s keeping Dad home, as promised.
She smiled at that. I owe her flowers.
Because Sam didn’t yet know it was her father’s place. As a Colton in Grave Gulch she knew people sometimes made assumptions simply based on the name, so she’d held that back. Just as, while chatting about her work as a dog trainer, she’d omitted exactly who she trained them for; time enough to get into that when they were together in reality instead of cyberspace.
I hope he’s everything he seems to be, Grace sent.
I think he will be.
She did think so, although she was mentally prepared for a certain amount of disappointment. No one was perfect. And dating a doctor would be intense—there would no doubt be lots of times his work had to take precedence—but she could handle that. She could always ask Desiree for advice on how she managed.
She gave a shake of her head as she signed off with Grace. She hadn’t even met the guy in person yet, but here she was fantasizing about a long-term future with him. Maybe in person there would be no chemistry, no spark. Maybe he’d hate her on sight; maybe her streak of rotten dating luck was destined to continue.
Desperate for distraction, she called up her work schedule for tomorrow. Frowned at the reminder that progress reports were due this week; she loved working with the dogs, but she could do without the paperwork. But they would have to be done, because Robert Kenwood ran a tight ship. A former police K-9 handler himself, the man many still called “Sarge,” even though he’d retired from the actual force to become the director of the training unit some time ago, was pretty by the book. But she could put up with his meticulousness, because he loved the dogs just as she did.
Just as Sam did. The thought made her smile. And she kept smiling, until she noticed what she’d forgotten until now; she had a scheduled session with Ember tomorrow morning. The lovable black Lab seemed to have a knack for scenting explosives in particular, and Sarge wanted to find out how solid it was. Which would so not please her handler.
Brett Shea.
The man who had saved the now-fiancée of her brother Troy by dismantling a bomb. Troy had told her Brett had sworn to leave such skills behind when he’d left the military. Something he’d never, ever wanted to do again, and yet he had. Because someone had to, and he had the knowledge and skill.
She felt a little flutter of nerves when she thought about that. Thought about him. Tried to quash it, but it persisted. She grimaced at herself. What was wrong with her? Readying for the first in-person meeting with the man who could be exactly what she was looking for, and here she was feeling butterflies over another, entirely unsuitable, unattainable, uninterested guy?
Of course, any woman would probably find the tall, rugged, intensely masculine K-9 officer attractive. Any woman with a pulse, anyway. Funny, she wouldn’t have thought she’d be attracted to a redhead, but combined with his startlingly blue, sometimes uncomfortably intense, eyes it was a potent combination. And seemed utterly right. Now she couldn’t imagine him without that thick shock of auburn hair.
You look Irish.
And what does an Irishman look like?
You.
That silly exchange when they’d first met, shortly after he’d laterally transferred in from Lansing, had ended with him adopting a very exaggerated brogue and speech pattern she suspected was a clichéd version of the real thing. And when he did, she too easily imagined him in green. Something else she had never spent much time thinking about before he’d walked into the training center.
Sure, and I am. And you are a Colton, aren’t ye?
I am.
Back to his ordinary—although she couldn’t think of the deep, rough timbre of it as ordinary—voice, and a very flat tone, he’d ended it then. Safe bet around here, it seems.
She remembered watching him walk off with Ember, thinking he’d sounded unhappy. At the least wary. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. There were a lot of Coltons on the force. And when one of them, her cousin Melissa, was the chief, it made it difficult to make real connections with people sometimes. Which was why she’d sworn off ever dating a Grave Gulch cop. A decision she was content with.
Or had been, until Brett Shea had turned that brilliant blue gaze on her. And started her mind down paths she’d sworn never to travel.
And wasn’t going to start now. She had a date, with a sexy, handsome, exciting guy, and it was going to go fabulously.
She was sure of it.
