Chapter 5

Ransom

"He pulls hard." Stella digs her bare heels into the yard, trying to stop her body from moving as Rambo growls playfully tugging on the toy in her hand. She finally gets it away from him, throwing it farther than I expect her to. She's breathing heavily as she comes back up on the deck, grabbing the beer I brought out for her.

"Yeah, he doesn't fuck around with his tug toys." I laugh as he picks it up, shakes it, tosses it in the air, and then completely rips it apart. "Which is why they don't last long."

Setting my beer down, I go over to the side of the deck, where I have a tennis ball and launcher. Those last longer. Using it, I rear back grunting with the force it takes to get it all the way to where my fence is. It hits the wood with a thud, before Rambo runs after it. "There." I watch as he lays down in the shade of a tree. "Looks like he's tired himself out."

"How's he doing? Didn't you say he got shots?"

"Good." I take a drink of my beer, watching her as she situates herself on my outdoor furniture. Right now I thank God that Mom decided to put a couch there, because Stella's sitting cross-legged, causing her shorts to ride up those smooth thighs of hers. "The more he moves the better off he'll be. He's just like a human – if he sits for too long he'll get stiff. This is the best thing for him."

I close the top on the grill, having a seat across from her. We're quiet for a moment, each looking at the other.

"I didn't mean for you to actually grill the meat." She gestures to where I'd been standing. "The plan was for me to cook you dinner."

"You did the hard stuff." I wave her off. "I'm just sorry it took so long for me to get back to you on the invitation."

"Busy at work?"

I've never been sure how much members of the MTF tell their families, but I like Stella, and I feel like if we're going to have anything other than a friendship, I should probably start off being honest. "Yeah, we've had some new product shipping through here. Not being made here, but they're using Laurel Springs as either a loading or an unloading point. The interstate is hot, as is the backroads out next to where the property my mom owns is." I reference the farm that's been in my mom's family for years. After my great-grandfather died, she didn't do anything with it, and now my dad seems to think people are using it for what it was built for many years ago.

"What's she gonna do about it?"

"I'm not sure. The property went to her since her dad died in jail a few years ago and Brooks didn't want it. She's always said to let it rot, but Dad's afraid somebody noticed it was abandoned and saw the operation that still sits on the land. We're going out in the next couple of days to dismantle it."

"I can't believe nobody has dismantled it before now." She pushes her blonde hair back from her face, exposing her long neck and the pearl earrings she always wears.

"Guess it wasn't a priority." I shrug as I get up and check on the steaks and shrimp. "Ohhh, these are done, can you go get the plates?"

She springs up, her long legs eating up the space to the back door. When she comes back, I allow my gaze to follow. Her legs are muscular, and her arms are strong too. When she sets the plate down, I put the potatoes on there, and then divide the shrimp and steak up. "You wanna eat out here or inside? If we eat out here, I have some candles we can light to keep the bugs away."

"Out here." She bites her bottom lip, scrunching her nose up in a gesture that can only be described as cute. "I'm stuck inside all the time. I kinda hate it."

"You must get that from Renegade; he hates being in the office, which is why he turned down the supervisor job and gave it to Menace."

"I know Mom wanted him to take the job, because it would mean he'd be off patrol more, but he didn't want to. In the end, she let it go." She holds up her finger, going back inside and then coming out with two more beers. "This'll be my limit since I'm driving home tonight."

It's on the tip of my tongue to ask her to stay, but what we have is way too new for that and I don't want her to feel like I'm pressuring her. But damn if I don't want to ask her to stay. Rambo comes running up the steps as I start cutting into my steak. "Be good and I'll give you some when we're done." I point to the dog bed he has out here. He goes to it immediately.

"You've done a good job with him." Stella grins as she starts cutting into her steak.

"It's all our trainer, Tucker," I tell her. "He does amazing things with the dogs and with us. Makes it so that we can continue the training at home."

"Do you train a lot?" She takes a bite, groaning as she does. "You did a good job on this, too."

Taking my own bite, I groan right along with her. "No, that's the spices and marinade. We make a good team." I wash it down with a generous swallow of my beer.

She tilts her head, grinning at me. In the low light of the sun setting, her eyes soften and that smile nearly unmans me. "Yeah we do."

It's like everything stops as she says those words, but I manage to clear my throat and answer the question she's asked. "We have a group training once a week, and we do a couple of specialized things a few times a month. The tri-county area has twenty K-9's, so we all work together. I'm the first one here in Laurel County, but we're hoping to get a few more."

"It's amazing to see the bond between the two of you." She looks over at Rambo.

"He's my best friend, and he's got to be. I trust him with my life, he trusts me with his. We work as a unit, we're partners in the truest sense of the word. The bond has been forged with hard work."

"How old is he?" She breaks off a piece of her steak, holding it out to him.

"Two." I put my hand on her thigh and sparks travel between us. "Tell him to stay," I instruct her. "Put a little bass in your voice and tell him to stay. Keep telling him until you're ready to give him the food and then say okay in a tone that's not as harsh."

She does as I instructed, and Rambo does exactly what he's supposed to do. "Good boy." I let the tone of my voice go high, in the one he responds to the best.

Watching her, she moves her hair back, making me notice the pearls again. "I like that you wear pearl earrings." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

"Oh, Mom thinks every good southern girl should have her pearls. Dad got these for me for my sixteenth birthday. He got me a necklace and Mom got me a bracelet, but I absolutely love these earrings, I barely take them out."

"And are you?" I ask on a whisper, noticing for the first time I haven't removed my hand from her thigh.

"Am I what?" She uses her tongue to swipe a bit of steak sauce from her bottom lip. Swear to God my dick jerks.

"A good southern girl."

Between us the air has become heated, our dancing act has ceased, and we're staring at each other. Her pulse jumps at her throat, her eyes are wide, and her hand has come down to where mine is on her thigh. A sassy smile pulls at the side of her mouth.

"Until I'm convinced otherwise, I am."

"And what would it take to convince you?" I scoot closer to her, food forgotten, Rambo forgotten, my attention just on her.

"Not a lot, Ransom. I'm more than positive you can figure it out."