Normal stuff. Easy stuff.
But underneath it, my mind keeps circling back.
Her steady hand on Ranger's fur. The way her chin lifted when I underestimated her. The laugh she tried to hide when she saw my call sign.
Bingo. It suits you.
The sun's starting to set by the time we leave Maggie's, painting the Rockies in shades of orange and pink that never get old no matter how many times I see them. Javi heads toward his truck with a wave and a final jab about my love life, and then it's just me and Ranger on the sidewalk.
The walk back to base is fifteen minutes if I take the shortcut through town. Twenty if I go the long way, past the shops and the bookstore and the veterinary clinic with the hand-painted sign.
I take the long way.
The clinic's closed now, lights off, CLOSED sign hanging in the window. But I slow down anyway, like an idiot, like a teenager with a crush instead of a grown man with a career and responsibilities and a dog who's already caused enough trouble for one day.
Ranger stops too. Sits at my heel without being told, staring at the dark windows like he's waiting for something.
"She's not in there, buddy."
His ears swivel toward me, then back to the clinic.
"And even if she was, we're not—this isn't—" I scrub a hand over my face. "We're going back to base. That's it. Professional distance."
Ranger huffs and starts walking again, and I follow, because apparently my highly trained military K9 is now leading this relationship.
The base gates come into view, familiar and solid, and PFC Brooks waves us through with an enthusiastic salute that makes me feel ancient.
Home. Such as it is. A small house on base, a closet full of uniforms, a stack of paperwork that includes re-enlistment forms I've been avoiding for three weeks.
Ranger trots beside me, completely unbothered by the existential weight of his handler's life choices.
"You think Pine Valley vets ever consult on base projects?" I ask him as we reach my quarters. "Like, professionally?"
He looks up at me, tongue lolling.
I push through the door and flip on the light. The re-enlistment paperwork sits on my desk where I left it, untouched.
Ranger circles twice and drops onto his bed with a contented sigh.
At least one of us knows what he wants.
Chapter 3
Callie
Thursday afternoon, two days after Ranger’s clinic invasion, Sophie has that look—the one that means she's about to ask questions I don't want to answer—and sure enough, the first words out of her mouth are "So. The pilot."
"No."
"I didn't even ask anything yet."
"The answer is still no."
I keep my eyes firmly on the new releases shelf, scanning titles like my life depends on it. The Reading Nook is supposed to be my refuge. Exposed brick walls, shelves crammed with books, soft indie music floating from hidden speakers. The smell of espresso and old paper. Sophie's ridiculous hand-lettered signs recommending "Books That Will Make You Ugly Cry" and "If You Liked That One Movie, Try These."
It's my favorite place in Pine Valley, and right now it feels like a trap.
"Callie." Sophie appears at my elbow, black bob swinging, dark eyes bright with the particular glee of a best friend who's about to make my life difficult. "The whole town is talking about it."
