She felt the dog’s sadness. Understood it. And wanted to help make it better.

  “Jedi’s just a pup. Not even a year old yet, but he’s smart and loving, and I think you’ll like him.” She prayed the dogs got along. Until she found them owners, the dogs would have to cohabitate.

  Other than handing over the dog stuff, she hadn’t spoken to Greg, except by text, since she’d told him about Michael. Was dreading doing so. If he acted like anything had changed, treated her differently...

  Who was she kidding? They’d had sex. Things had changed. Truth was, she’d be open to doing it again. But only if they could stay on track as friends only, outside of the occasional night together.

  Did she dare hope that telling Greg about her brother had given him deeper understanding as to why friendship was all she ever wanted—with anyone?

  Since he was so adamant about living alone himself—to the point of refusing to spend the night after sex—could there be a possibility that they could pull off a long-term friends with benefits thing?

  She’d never known anyone personally who’d done so, but she’d seen it on television. Read about it in books...

  Turning onto her block, she saw the familiar SUV parked in front of her house. And her mood picked up. She couldn’t help it. She was glad he hadn’t just dropped Jedi and taken off. Him doing so would have been a sign that things weren’t normal between them.

  “They’re here,” she said to the older girl beside her. She pet the dog’s head, then with both hands braced behind Goldie’s ears, she leaned over and kissed the bridge of the golden Lab’s nose. “We’ll find someone who needs you, Goldie,” she said, pulling back just enough to look the dog in the eyes. “Okay?”

  Goldie’s tail gave a slow wag, the first that Wendy had seen, and Wendy took it as a sign that everything was going to be all right.

  * * *

  The talk Greg had planned for Monday after work didn’t seem appropriate with a new dog in the house. He’d bought steaks for Wendy’s grill, had potatoes in the oven, a salad already made, all in the name of honoring a friendship that mattered a whole lot to him. It was all there, the makings of a memorable dinner—minus the wine and candlelight that he’d specifically left off the menu. He’d been planning to surprise her. To be honest with her.

  And then in she walked alongside a calm, perfect-specimen golden Labrador with the saddest eyes he’d ever seen.

  “She’s just lost her owner,” Wendy said quietly, as if the dog could understand her words. “Her name’s Goldie.”

  The dog looked at him but didn’t venture over to say hello. Or back up when he stepped forward. Running a hand over her head and down her back, Greg said, “Hello, Goldie. You want to meet Jedi? He’s eating,” Greg explained, looking up at Wendy. Given his health issues, Jedi’s eating was priority. Always. The boy was gaining weight, but they couldn’t afford to go backward. Especially if he was going into service.

  Goldie didn’t seem to mind not being met at the door by a fellow canine. She walked away from Greg’s hand on her back, moved slowly around the living room, surveying and smelling, and sauntered into the kitchen.

  Smelling his potatoes?

  “I...have dinner underway,” Greg said. And quickly added, “Not with an eye to anything romantic. Just...I have a proposition—nonpersonal—that I’d like to discuss with you.” Whoa. Getting way ahead of himself. The idea was meant to come last, after the rest of what he had to do. It was the glue that would put them back together.

  Nodding, Wendy gave him a brief glance but was clearly more interested in the dogs than in any idea he might have brewing. “Good. I’m hungry,” she said, almost as an afterthought.

  Following her into the kitchen, he saw why she was so distracted.

  His potatoes hadn’t been what had drawn Goldie’s nose. Jedi, in the laundry room off the kitchen, had been the object of her attention.

  The boy stood over his almost-empty bowl, head turned to look at Goldie, ears perked up tall, tail still. And Goldie, with her head slightly lowered, seemed to be trying to get a whiff of what was in Jedi’s bowl.

  Oh, God. Was this a fight ready to happen?

  He moved forward with purpose, steadying his pace so as not to escalate what could only be growing tension in the room. He had to get the boy out of there before something awful happened. More likely instigated by the German shepherd whose natural instincts would be to protect his dinner.

  Aware of Wendy behind him, noting her silence, he deduced that she was waiting for him to act. He was a protector. One trained to de-escalate tense situations. And if a fight ensued, going into battle was what he did.

  Each thought brought him a step slowly closer. He was aiming for Jedi. The dog he knew. The boy who knew him. Who obeyed him.

  As Greg drew near, almost close enough to grab for Jedi, Goldie’s tail started to wag. Slowly, small back and forth sweeps. And Jedi...finished his dinner.

  For whatever reason, the two had decided to tolerate each other. To get along.

  Leaving Greg more certain than ever that he had to find a way for him and Wendy to do the same. To be who they were, deal with their complicated feelings for one another in a way that worked for both of them and, above all, continue to get along. The dogs, along with the veterans they helped, needed them to do so.

  * * *

  With Goldie and Jedi lying close but perpendicular to each other on the floor between Wendy and Greg’s chairs at the table, Wendy tried to relax. To let herself enjoy the moment, the company of two smart, nurturing dogs in her home, along with a friend over for dinner.

  It was just all so odd, so not her, that she couldn’t find a way to just be with it. She kept most of her attention on her plate. The food was good. Impressively great steaks, actually. And yet every bite was a challenge to swallow.

  She wanted wine.

  Greg had poured ice water with lemon so she didn’t feel right helping herself to something else.

  “How long are you keeping her?” he asked as he tackled his steak and baked potato with the same gusto he’d given to her empanadas and his chili.

  “Just until I can find an owner who needs her,” she answered, a little distracted as she grappled with the idea that they were having their third meal together, in her home, in a matter of weeks. Like they were...together or something. Roommates or...dating.

  Or friends who were raising and training an abused pup, she amended silently. Then, to that end, she said, “She’s teetering on being too old for service but still should have at least five more years in her. For her to live her best life and feel most wanted, she should go to someone who needs a service dog, but who’s maybe older, slowing down some, just like she is...”

  She didn’t know who that would be—no one came immediately to mind—but she’d put energy into it, sending out feelers, until she found someone.

  Before his steak was gone, Greg set down his knife and fork crossways on his plate. He’d barely touched his salad. The actions, strikingly unlike him, made her uneasy. They were doing well. Ignoring the sex and the humongous revelation she’d made and had been regretting every second since. Was he about to break the status quo?

  To hell with the water. She got herself a glass of wine. Offered him one.

  Only one bottle in the house. Ever. Her rule. She didn’t budge on it. And never drank when she was out. Living alone, she knew she would have to drive herself home.

  He accepted her offer but didn’t sip from the glass she gave him, and her heart sank further.

  “I’ve misled you a bit, Wendy, and I’m deeply sorry for having done so.”

  Oh, God. He was dumping her. From a relationship they weren’t even having. Unless friends with benefits counted? Though, technically, they were friends with benefit. One time. And he was dumping her.

  She sipped from her wine, welcoming its calming effect, and set the glass down. Quickly putting her hands in her lap to hide their trembling.

  “The night of the storm, the emergency landing—that wasn’t my first nightmare.”

  What? Blinking, she turned toward him, frowning deeply. “I don’t follow.”

  “I’ve been suffering from violent nightmares for years.”

  Wow. She hadn’t seen that coming. And had no clue why he was suddenly baring himself to her.

  Because she’d told him about Michael?

  Was this some kind of quid pro quo?

  Arms folded, she sat there. She should be saying something. His pause clearly indicated that. But first, she needed him to finish.

  “I’ve never told anyone...”

  Still frowning, she sipped her wine again. Quid pro quo, then. Okay, she could see where he was going with it.

  “Was there an initial cause?” she managed to ask, getting on board with the program. They were sharing why they were safe with each other, living in the moment only. Why what they had could never be anything more.

  “I’m told they call it PTSD.” His words were delivered in a deadpan tone. It matched the expression she could see from his lowered face. Then he looked up, meeting her gaze. “I didn’t just leave the army because I’d served my time,” he said. “I left on a forced medical discharge. My leg, the nightmares and, I’m guessing, the panic attacks since the storm, they are all results of the same thing.”

  Her mouth was dry, but she didn’t want any more wine. She needed a clear head for this, so she gulped water. “What thing?”

  She had to know. Wouldn’t rest until she knew.

  And so badly didn’t want to know that it was Greg it had happened to.

  “The surprise attack that debilitated Duke.” Stark words. Sent from white lips. She couldn’t see him and not feel the horrid truth.

  “You were there?”

  “Not just there—I was directly in the line of fire. It should have been me who took the worst of it. He’d seen something, dived to a new position and got hit in midair. If not for that, my injuries would have been much worse.” He didn’t look away. Didn’t miss a beat. But the moisture in his steady gaze, the puckering of his chin, the tight lips...they all spoke to her.

  So loudly she could hardly think past the roaring in her ears.

  Oh, God. Not Greg. Not Greg, too.

  Her heart ached, but for him way more than for herself. The tears that sprang to her eyes were all for him. For the atrocities that stole soldiers’ futures away from them in a blink.

  “I lost a couple of brother comrades that day, too,” he continued. “I’m the lucky one, Wendy.” Reaching over, he brushed lightly against her cheek, removing the wetness there. “I wouldn’t even have told you now, but...the nightmares...they aren’t going to end. I didn’t leave the other night because you aren’t enough. I left because you are far too valuable for me to risk an unconscious middle-of-the-night attack.”

  She nodded. Had more to say. But he got there first.

  “I want to adopt Jedi,” he told her. “I need him, for so many reasons, but mostly so that someday, I can maybe spend the night at my parents’ house again.”

  “And spend it other places, too?” Maybe with her. Maybe not. There was so much to think about.

  “One day at a time,” he told her. “But I won’t be sleeping here until and unless I think it’s safe, if that’s what you mean. I’m not going to sit here and tell you that I don’t want to have sex again, because it would be lying. I do. A whooole lot.” His voice trembled as he drew out the one word. “But no way on earth will I be such a selfish ass as to ever put you in the position of having to open your heart to a lifetime of living with someone who suffers from the same disorder that took your brother...”

  She wanted to tell him that the choice was hers to make, not his. But didn’t speak. Because she feared that if she opened her mouth, she’d hear that her choice would be the same as the one he’d already made.

  Some of the same internal demons that had killed her brother were living inside Greg, and he was right to be cautious about that, especially when it came to her.

  And still, she had to point out... “That day you were reading about nightmares...Jedi stopped the agitation that was coming on inside you.”

  Service dogs really helped. Using them as permanent treatment was valid, valuable, successful.

  “I know. I need him. A confession I suspect you’ve been hoping all along you’d hear from me.”

  They were laying it all out there. “I knew he could help you, short term, at least. I was hoping that’s all you’d need. You were refusing to see that you needed help.” For a bare moment, she let herself be sad, because she was going to lose Jedi.

  But then she focused on the joy, because she’d succeeded! Greg was going to take Jedi!

  “I’ve come to realize that having to admit you’re disappointed in yourself isn’t a comfortable thing. I’m a guy. I’d grown fond of my emotional comfort.”

  If there had ever been a time to fall in love with Greg Martin, it would have been then. As it was, that moment...it would be with her forever.

  “We’ll take care of the paperwork tomorrow,” she said aloud. Knowing, as she did so, that when he took Jedi home, there’d be no more reason for them to see each other so frequently.

  They’d be back to the few times a month she needed him to fly for her.

  And while she knew it was for the best, she also discovered that even a closed and guarded heart could break a little.

  Chapter Nineteen

  No. No. No. She was going downhill. He saw it, not only in the tears in her eyes but the drooping of her shoulders. The setness of her expression.

  “I told you, earlier, I have a proposition for you...”

  Blinking back tears, she nodded. “Right. The nonpersonal thing. I’d forgotten.”

  “I want us to go into business together,” he blurted out instead of the speech that had been so carefully planned in his mind during the drive over.

  Shaking her head, nose scrunched, she said, “You want to bring your investment group and my accounting firm into one entity? That makes no sense. Unless you’re suggesting that we share clients, but even then...my clients are small-time, Greg. Very few of them have enough funds left over for investing on a scale large enough to benefit you. And your clients are way above my one-woman operation...”

  He adored that scrunch in her nose. It was so cute that it had no right to turn him on as much as it did. But now was not the time to get distracted by his arousal. He had a business proposal to pitch.

  “I’m talking about matching pets with service animals, but doing it on a much larger scale. Like, nationally. We’d be combining the concept behind Pets for Vets with Pilots for Paws, but with nationwide transportation capabilities. I’d spend more of the day-to-day time running things, but we could have you doing what you’re already doing—scouring shelters for viable service dogs and then bringing them into our own training institute. Maybe even have veterans come to us to see which dog they bond with most and vice versa...” Some of it was coming out as planned. Words strung together as he’d practiced. But not with any of the calm, the finesse, with which he’d heard them in his mind earlier.

  And when he saw the unmistakable glow that took over her entire face, he just kept blabbing along. “I can ask my dad to help us,” he came up with out of the blue. And knew he was on the perfect track there, too. “He’s got contacts all over the world. He could be our communications liaison with the military.”

  He talked about finding travel contacts—a travel agent, maybe—or just arranging case-by-case transportation, depending on distance and time constraints.

  “We could have a list of volunteers, including pilots, drivers, people willing to be companions to the animals on long train or bus rides...” Wendy said, and then stopped, as their gazes met once again. “It’s a great idea, Greg.”

  “So you’re in?”

  “Yeah,” she said and grinned. “I’m in.”

  His gut lightened. He took his first sip of wine. Felt, for the first time that day, as though he might actually enjoy his future life more than he would have being in the army. He might make himself proud.

  But more... “Then, we’ll be partners forever,” he said softly. “In the way we can be.”

  She nodded, tearing up a little again, but smiling, too.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Finding a way to make us work.”

  He didn’t want to fool her or himself. Neither of them could afford it. “I don’t think I’ve done that, yet,” he told her. “I’ve found a way to keep us together. Whether or not we can make it work remains to be seen.”

  Her expression serious again, she nodded. “There’s the whole sex thing. We haven’t really talked about it, but it’s right here, gnawing at me.”

  “I know.”

  “You were the best I’ve ever had.” He got so hard his zipper dug into him at that one.

  “Ditto.”

  “It’s not something we can just ignore.”

  “Agreed.” He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. She seemed fairly glued to him, too, which pretty much made him her prisoner.

  “You want to go to bed?”

  “You have to ask?”

  She grinned. “Good. I do, too”

  “But I can’t stay.” And there was the crux. The damned cold shower on the heat of the moment.

  “I know.” Her gaze didn’t falter. She didn’t even blink.

  “Are you good with that?”

  “I understand it. I know it’s not about me.”

  “Yeah, but are you good with it?”

  Her shrug made sense to him. Who knew? This was uncharted territory for both of them.