Page 3 of Mine to Possess (Veteran K9 Team #3)

Chapter Three

Barron

“ S hould I be worried?” Betty—a vision with her strawberry-blonde hair, flushed red cheeks, and big black-rimmed sunglasses—looks up at me after Linc skies away.

As if to answer her, a big gust of wind blows through the valley, announcing the storm to everyone near the lodge and ski lifts.

“No, but I think you should hang out with me until we find her or she finds you. Does she have her phone on her?”

“Yeah, she does.” Betty pulls her phone out of her pocket and dials. She lets it ring until it goes to voicemail. “Hey. Call me as soon as you get this. I need to know you’re okay. I’ll be waiting for you in the lodge.”

“Don’t worry too much, Betty. The signal isn’t great on top of the mountain, or she might be skiing and can’t pick up her phone.”

She nods. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”

“Do you want to finish your lesson or are you done for the day?” It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know Betty’s not overly excited about learning to ski.

“I think I’m done.”

I smile. “Would you like to grab coffee or hot cocoa with me while we wait? You could tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?” Her left brow arches above her frames.

“Everything.”

“Really? You want to know everything about me?”

“Is that wrong?”

She purses her lips. “Wrong? No. Surprising? Yes.”

“I don’t know why it’s surprising. You’re a beautiful woman who has a story to tell.

Plus, with the mountain shutting down, you can’t tell me you don’t have the time.

” Shrugging my shoulders to play it cool, I motion between us with a casual wave of my hand and flash her a sweet smile.

“What do you say? Me, you and a couple mugs of hot chocolate?”

“That sounds divine.” She returns my smile and is even more beautiful than I thought she was the moment I laid eyes on her yesterday. Now that I know Brandi is Betty’s mother and not her sister, I’m betting she is closer in age to Linc than me.

Hell, she might be young enough to be my daughter, if I’d ever had one.

Well, shit. That complicates things, doesn’t it?

After we grabbed dinner last night, Linc and I racked out in our bunks with our dogs settled on their pillows.

We watched a movie, but honestly I couldn’t tell you what it was about, much less the title.

Linc’s question about my sex life and his conviction that when he found the one, he’d know it had my brain spinning until I passed out from sheer exhaustion.

At forty years old, you’d think I’d have been in love a couple times, but I haven’t.

At least, not the kind of love that left me feeling like I can’t breathe without her—whoever she is.

My ex-wife is a good woman and there is no ill-will between us.

We were friends in high school and reconnected many years later online while I was deployed overseas.

She was looking for a way out of Branson and had romanticized what life as a military spouse would look like based on all the travel I had done.

I had nothing else going on, so I invited her to come see me in Georgia.

Next thing I knew, we were married and setting up a home.

I know boredom is a stupid reason for getting married, but at the time neither of us thought we needed the passion that a deeply in love couple shares.

We believed friendship would be enough. Eventually, she wanted the stability of setting roots in one place—turns out that moving every couple years and having to make new friends every time weighed on her—and I can’t say I blame her.

I spent all night thinking about that relationship and my lack of romantic connection. They say love will find you when you’re not looking, but in my case, I think I’ve been actively ignoring it my whole life.

What would happen if I paid attention and made myself available?

What would happen if I opened myself up to rejection, found the hot blonde I fantasized about last night and asked her out?

As the fates would have it—I’m about to find out.

I help Betty ski down to the bottom of the bunny hill and show her how to lock and carry her skis. “Follow me, bunny.”

“Bunny?” I chuckle and shake my head.

“Yeah. You need a pet name and bunny hill Betty is too long.” Dammit, I should not be flirting. Now that I know I’m closer to her mother’s age, all the sexy thoughts I’ve been thinking seem wrong. I mean, it won’t stop my mind from wandering, but I feel like a dirty dog.

She walks ahead of me toward the lodge and tosses over her shoulder in a playful tone. “Fine. I’ll be your bunny.”

“Do you mind if we pick up my girl on our way to the hearth?”

Betty stops and looks back at me. “Your girl?”

“Yeah.” I smile at the detected note of jealousy. “We’re kind of inseparable. You’ll like her, and I’m sure she’ll like you, even though she is possessive of me.”

“Uh… okay.”

I walk her through the equipment rental area into the staff break room where my German Shepherd sleeps in her bed.

I open the door and Sarge lifts her head, her tail wagging slowly. “This is my girl, Sarge.”

Betty gasps. “A puppy!”

“Not exactly. She’s twelve years old and has been with me for a long time.”

“I’m sure she’s still a puppy at heart.” She coos, coaxing Sarge to stand up on her achy bones. I’ve had her since she was three months old and although she’s in great shape, she has arthritis in her joints after years of faithful service.

Sarge walks over to Betty and sits patiently in front of her. “Can I pet her?”

“She insists.” I chuckle and guide Betty over to the couch. “Sit down and I will help you get off some of this gear.”

As soon as Betty sits, Sarge climbs up onto the couch and lays next to her, resting her head on Betty’s thigh. I envy my dog’s ability to be so familiar without speaking a word and wish I could cuddle up with Betty without coming up with some clever conversation.

I’m not so great with clever conversation.

“Ohhh. She’s so sweet.” Betty runs her fingers through my dog’s thick coat.

“Sarge is a retired military working dog, but I don’t make her go out in the snow anymore than she absolutely has to.” I drop to one knee in front of Betty to unbuckle her boots and pull them off.

“Ahhhh,” she moans and drops her head back while wiggling her toes. “That feels so good.”

The pleasurable cry escaping her lips sends blood rushing to my cock while a lightness I haven’t felt in years fills my heart. I chuckle and squeeze her wool-wrapped foot, pressing my thumb to the arch. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll give you a foot massage later.”

She stops stroking Sarge’s fur and looks at me. With her glasses off, I can see her big brown eyes filled with surprise. I’m wondering if she’s going to kick her foot to my face, jump up and storm off, or chew my ass for being a dirty old man.

Thankfully, her lips curl into a small smile. “I can be a good girl.”

Suppressing my smile, I nod.

Game on.

If she’s weirded out by our age difference, she’s not letting it show. “I bet you can. Do you want to take off your coat? I’ll secure it and your boots in my locker while we hang out in the lodge.”

“I don’t have any other shoes with me.”

“I have some slippers you can wear, but you have to promise not to make fun of me for having them.”

“Ohhh? I’m intrigued.” She leans forward and unzips her coat.

I help her pull it off and motion to the oversized cable-knit sweater she has on underneath it. “Do you want to lose that too?”

“I think I’ll keep it with me, in case I get cold.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait.” She has her hands up, and damn, I like the sight of her reaching for me. “My phone.”

“Right.” I hand her coat back to her. She digs her phone and wallet out of her pocket before giving it back to me. “Be right back.”

In the locker room, I run into one of the mountain safety dispatchers while shedding my outer layers. “How’s it going out there?”

“Fine. We have almost everyone off the mountain and accounted for.” Sherry bats her lashes. “What are you going to do now that you have the afternoon and evening free?”

“Uh… I have my client in the break room waiting for her family to come down the mountain.” I run my hand through my hair and fluff out the hat imprint, feeling weird about saying mother .

That makes it sound like I have a child with me—which is who I normally instruct—instead of a very adult woman with ample curves I’d like to explore.

“Speaking of which. Do you have an extra radio on you? I told Linc I’d let him know if the family shows up. ”

“Sure.” She pulls a second radio out of her pocket. “He’s on channel three. Do you want to catch up later after the family picks up their kid? I think a group of us are going hot tubbing tonight.”

“Probably not, but I’ll call you later if I change my mind.”

I’m not going to change my mind.

Sherry’s too young for me and yet she’s been flirting with me since last season. I thought once I brought Linc around she’d change her focus, but nope.

Still hitting on me.

It’s crazy, but it also gets me thinking. “How old are you?”

Her face brightens with the unintended flirtatious question. “Me? I’m twenty, but I’ll be twenty-one next month.”

“Right.” I change my boots and stuff mine and Betty’s jackets into my locker. “Happy Birthday. In case I forget.”

Sherry smiles and wiggles her fingers in the air as she sashays out of the locker room. “Oh, I won’t let you forget me.”

Frowning, I turn the radio to channel three, and press the button to talk. “Linc? Lincoln, do you copy?”

“Barron?”

“Yeah man. I got a radio, just in case. How’s it look up there?”

He exhales and I can tell he’s ducking his head with the radio into his coat so he can hear me. “It’s hitting harder than we thought, but I think we have almost everybody off the mountain. I haven’t seen Brandi yet. Is she with you?”

“No, I don’t think she’s checked in. I’ll ask Betty and let you know shortly.”

“Okay. Are you going to be hanging out with her until then?”

I glance around the locker room, thankful I’m alone. “Yeah. I convinced her to stay with me and Sarge for now.”

“Good. If Brandi shows up, invite them to dinner.”

Shaking my head, I roll my eyes. Linc definitely has a one track mind. “You know that Betty is closer to your age and Brandi is closer to mine.”

“I don’t give a shit. The moment I laid eyes on Brandi yesterday, I wanted her. Seeing her again this morning and having Betty be your client—it’s fate.”

I sigh and grab the fuzzy penguin slippers out of my locker. “I’ll do my best. Keep the comm line open.”

“Roger. Talk to you soon.”

When I enter the break room, Betty has pulled off her cable-knit sweater, but has it draped across her stomach.

That action makes me think she’s self-conscious about her body, which is crazy considering I saw her in leggings and a sweater yesterday and my mouth immediately watered.

She has these thick thighs and perfectly round ass, and I want to applaud her Lululemon collection.

I think that’s what stretch pants are called.

All I know is I’m a diehard fan of Lycra and spandex and anything else that conforms to a woman’s shape.

Especially a shape like Betty’s.

Sarge has made herself at home on my woman’s thigh, her eyes closed and tongue lolling out of her mouth while Betty continues to stroke her fur. “Any word from Brandi?”

Betty looks up from her phone. “No. Not yet. How is it looking outside?”

“The storm is moving faster than we expected, but it will be okay. If she’s in a situation where she needs to be found, there’s nobody better on the mountain than Linc and Li-Lou.”

“Who is Li-Lou?”

“Linc’s dog. She retired with him when he separated from the Army, just like I retired with Sarge when it was our time.”

“Are you canine handlers?”

“We were and still are.” I bring my hand from behind my back and show her the ridiculous slippers.

She laughs. “Why do you have those?”

I drop to my knee and slide them on her feet, a distracting desire to run my hand up her calves and between her knees to push apart her things taking root in my mind.

Jesus. This isn’t me. I’ve never been consumed by thoughts of touching or tasting a woman before, but they are coming fast and unbidden with Betty.

“A client’s mother gave them to me as a gift after I charmed her little girl over her stuffed penguin ski hat.”

“A hardened soldier with a viciously trained military dog—” she lifts Sarge’s lips to emphasize how unafraid she is “—who schmoozes ski bunnies out of fuzzy penguin slippers on the weekends. You are a complicated man, Barron.”

Shaking my head, I offer her my hand. “I’m a man, so that makes me easy to understand. It’s you I want to get to know.”

Sarge groans as she maneuvers off of the couch, while Betty takes my hand, letting me pull her up on her slippered feet. “Are you ready for something hot and sinful?”

Fuck it, I’m obviously not going to stop flirting, so I’m might as well lean into it.

She slips her hand into my arm and smiles up at me sweetly. “Lead the way, mystery man.”