One black eyebrow raised as he straightened.
“A pup.” She hesitated. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to her.”
“He gave you a dog?” Skepticism laced his words.
“Mmm hmmm.” She’d already turned and was walking toward the back door. In three swift strides, Nate caught up to her and they crossed the porch together, old floorboards creaking under his boots.
As she reached for the door, he touched her arm, the first physical contact they’d had since the fire. “Wait a minute,” he said, his voice low. “How are you doing?” Fro
m his gaze she knew that he meant more than the surface stuff.
“I’m okay.” She flashed a smile she didn’t feel. “Didn’t you once say I was ‘tough as nails’?”
He glanced at the ground. “I could have been wrong.”
“Nah!”
She opened the door and he dropped his hand back to his side. The problem with Nate was that he wasn’t a surface guy; she knew that. His feelings, though often hidden, ran deep. Maybe too deep.
Once in the kitchen, she walked to the kennel where the puppy was already awake again. The little ball of fur was jumping and leaping at the confines of the cage. Carefully Shannon leaned over the wire mesh and scooped up the wriggling little dog. “Skatooli,” she said as the puppy licked her face wildly. “Here, meet Nate.” Shannon handed the pup to the tall man and, as with just about any animal, Skatooli calmed in Nate’s big, calloused, incredibly gentle hands. “Purebred Labrador retriever…without papers, of course.”
“My ass,” Nate said, his voice calm. “That’s like saying I’m full-blooded Cherokee or that Khan here is a prizewinning Aussie shepherd.” He glanced up, fingers still stroking the little dog, as Khan, hearing his name and forever wanting to be the center of attention, did circles around Nate’s boots. He whined expectantly before giving off a gruff bark. The tiny pup, startled, yipped.
“I know. But she’s sweet, and probably smart.”
“I already told you I don’t trust Demitri,” Nate said again. “That guy has ulterior motives for his ulterior motives.”
Shannon sighed. “I got that message loud and clear.”
“And you ignored it. As always.”
“Not ‘as always.’ I heed your advice when I think I should. Face it, Santana, it’s not just Demitri. You don’t trust anyone.”
He made a deprecating noise and she chuckled. They’d walked this ground before. “Besides, I like the new place.”
“I know. No reason to argue about it again,” Nate said. “It’s a done deal.” The lines around his mouth tightened a bit.
Shannon ignored his disapproval. There was no reason to explain why she wanted a place of her own, a place that held no memories, no ghosts from a past that wouldn’t disappear. A place where she didn’t wake up in the middle of the night covered in sweat, her body shaking, the nightmares still as vivid and real as they had been for three years. Looking up, she caught Nate staring at her with his guarded dark eyes. He had a way of looking straight to her soul, she sometimes thought, as if he was trying to read her mind.
Careful there, Nate, you might not like what you see.
As disturbing as his insight could be, it was a gift when it came to training animals. Part horse whisperer, part Native-American shaman and part restless cowboy, Nate Santana was the primary reason her business thrived. Nate’s silent intensity, his quiet concentration and calm ways were unmatched. Shannon had once seen him stand for three hours staring into the furious eyes of a reputedly “no-good piece of rotten horseflesh,” a “devil in a nag’s pricey hide,” an animal that had been beaten and battered and knew nothing more than to fight. Neither horse nor man had moved and all the while Nate had kept up a low, calming monologue.
In the end, the stallion had lowered his head and shuffled up to the man who was unafraid and quietly healing. That horse, Rocco, a sleek bay with bloodlines that could be traced back to some famous charger from the Civil War, was now Nate’s.
That revealed the positive side to her partner.
Once a particularly nasty wasp had been hovering near his head and she’d witnessed him sweep it into his bare fist, then crush the life out of it without flinching as the struggling insect stung his fingers repeatedly.
When it was over, he’d dropped the tiny black carcass onto the ground.
Shannon had never forgotten either incident.
Now she found him staring at her. “Looking at something?” she asked.
“Just tryin’ to figure you out.”
“It’ll never happen, Santana.”