Trusting a Warrior (Loving a Warrior #3) - Melanie Hansen Page 0,21
and move on, because that Kung Pao was really calling her name...
The screen said Geo.
Her breath caught.
“Hey, Geo,” she answered, praying that she sounded natural and breezy and not like her heart was threatening to pound its way out of her chest. Which it totally was.
“Hey, you.”
Oh, hello, sexy voice. Lani shivered.
“Did you go today?”
Surprised that he’d actually remembered the date of her appointment, she croaked, “Yep, I did.”
“Good for you. How, uh, was it?”
“Well, honestly, it sucked like you wouldn’t believe.”
He gave an audible wince. “Yikes. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. My therapist warned me I’d feel worse before I feel better.” Lani put her legs up on the coffee table and crossed them at the ankle. “There’s ten years’ worth of shit to unpack, you know.”
He didn’t reply, his sudden discomfort radiating through the phone, along with the awkwardness of two strangers separated by hundreds of miles being confronted with a difficult topic. Taking pity on him, she changed the subject. “What’re you doing in Arizona?”
“Desert training.” He grunted. “It’s about a bazillion degrees here, which is good practice for us since we’ll eventually be going, um—”
“To a galaxy far, far away?”
“Yeah.” His relief at not being pressed on exactly where rang in his voice. “You understand that I can’t say, right?”
“Of course I do. OPSEC, the subject of every pre-deployment family meeting ever.”
Geo’s chuckle this time sounded much more genuine, and the husky sound brushed along her skin, tightening her nipples and making her breasts ache. She cupped her hand over one and squeezed.
Ugh. Stupid hormones.
Clearing her throat, she asked, “How’s Bosch?”
“He’s good. Chilling in his crate.”
“Is he there right now?”
“Yep. Right next to my bed.”
She could hear rustling, as if Geo was moving around on crisp sheets. She shoved away the visual. “He doesn’t sleep with you?”
“Nah, he’s not my pet. When we’re home, he lives in the base kennels, not with me. On the road, he has a crate.”
“How long have you worked with him?”
“About three years.”
“Did you pick him or did he pick you? Or didn’t you have a choice?”
“I had a choice, and shit, that first day was insane.” He paused, and Lani heard what sounded like him punching up his pillows. “Sorry. Just getting comfortable.”
A frisson of warmth went through her at the thought of him settling down in bed to talk to her. Stretching up to turn the table lamp off, she curled up on her side on the couch, phone wedged between her shoulder and ear. The TV flickered silently in front of her, the Friends gang drinking their coffee and laughing.
“So I walked into this kennel,” Geo said, “and was immediately overwhelmed by what seemed like hundreds of barking, whirling, high-energy dogs. I, uh, was actually afraid of a few.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. Some of them are real snappish and aggressive. I remember this one, he had a crazy look in his eye like he wanted to kill me. At that point I was seriously wondering what the fuck I’d gotten myself into, and then I looked over and saw this other dog gazing around at all the chaos with what I swear was a sneer on his face, like, ‘You peasants.’ That was Bosch.”
She stifled a giggle, picturing Geo on that barstool, his own expression exactly what he was describing.
“So you picked him?”
“Yep. I asked to work with him, and after two days, I knew he was the dog for me. One of our final exercises was to clear this house. He found the explosive odor right away, and then we were supposed to run out a side door into the yard where a dude in a bite suit was waiting to fight with him. Instead of going out the door, though, Bosch went out a window that nobody realized was open and fuckin’ pile-drove this guy to the ground. Boom!”
The little-boy enthusiasm in his voice reminded her so much of Rhys that tears sprang to her eyes. It’d been so long since she’d lain in bed and talked to a man like this, and she’d forgotten how nice it was.
She wiped the tears on the neckline of her pajama top. “Wow,” she said hoarsely. “That sounds intense.”
“It was.” He fell silent, and after a moment asked, “You okay?”
“What? Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine,” he said, then went on, his tone rueful, “I’m such a tool. You said you’d had a rough day, and here I am, just babbling on about myself.”
“Well, I like hearing you babble.” Her face burned.