He stood and got himself into his pants while she was still being stubborn giving him her back. Then he stepped over Atlas and came up behind her in the kitchen, putting a steadying hand around hers on the skillet to keep her from whacking him across the head with it. Other hand on her hip, he ground his own into her backside so there was no way she could ignore the raging hard-on he still had even zipped up inside his pants.
“Believe me, I wanted to join you in your room last night.” He leaned his head close to the side of hers and nipped her ear. “But same reasoning applies this morning even if we both lost some sleep from frustration.”
She didn’t try to step away but her back was straight as a board and her shoulders squared.
“You’re being very considerate. And I should appreciate it. I thought about it a lot last evening. I don’t like the mixed messages and I don’t like running hot only to be put into a forced cool down. You had me incredibly wound up last night and then you decided it was all about the chivalrous thing to do.”
He swallowed hard. Okay. He backed up a fraction and gave her room. “I’m sorry.”
After a moment, she sighed, turned off the heat on the stove and placed the skillet down safely. Then she turned into his arms. Rising up on her toes, she pressed a kiss against his jaw. “But you had good intentions. I’m hoping talking about this will prevent a repeat and that you’ll make it up to me.”
No sane man would ignore that hint.
He kissed her, enjoying the sweet honey taste of her mouth. He also gave thanks she’d changed her mind about keeping professional distance because even the minimal space between them due to the clothes they were wearing was too much. He sincerely hoped she’d be as interested in pursuing this thing between them after he clued her in to all the other shit going on around them.
And the thought effectively chilled him. A man didn’t need cold showers when he had this much insanity to deal with inside his own head. His mood was grim by the time they’d finished breakfast and gathered up Atlas to head back to the main house.
“It’s a vet visit for you, Atlas.” David noticed Atlas had been much more amenable to commands this morning. Small battle won there. He expected to have a few more instances like last night’s contest of wills before Atlas made the decision to listen a hundred percent of the time. It was a turning point between every dog and handler. The trick with Atlas was to get him to a point where he would accept a new handler at all.
Lyn held Atlas for Doctor Medicci while she checked on the healing scrape along his side. Atlas stood still under examination, amazingly responsive to Lyn’s encouragements. David stood back and let the ladies work.
“He’s healing well, not showing any signs of pain.” Medicci murmured as she ran her hands along Atlas’s back and legs. “You kept him on light exercise, right?”
“Easy training and daily walks. No running for any real distance,” Lyn answered. She paused then added, “Mostly. He’s an active dog.”
“Mmm.” Medicci sounded noncommittal but not angry. Atlas was looking good and they all knew it. “On principal, he should be kept to light exercise a while longer but as long as the area around the wound is free of redness or swelling, he should be fine. Sutures will dissolve on their own.”
“Got it.” David figured he’d keep the training review at the current pace. No need to rush Atlas, and Lyn was working wonders with the dog in general.
“While I’m here, I’ll do his basic exam and take samples for the standard tests.” Medicci took out her stethoscope and pressed it to either side of Atlas’s chest.
Things looked to be fine until Medicci took out the big scanner and passed it over Atlas’s back. She frowned, checked the device, then passed it over him again more slowly. “He’s chipped, isn’t he?”
“All military working dogs are.” David pushed away from the wall and came to stand at Lyn’s side. He ran his fingers through Atlas’s coat along the dog’s right shoulder, seeking the small bump under the skin he’d encountered grooming. “It’s right here.”
“Whatever that is, it’s not a functioning microchip.” Medicci shook her head. “I just used this before I got here on two other dogs. It’s in working order. His chip must’ve malfunctioned or been damaged.”
It wasn’t likely, as small as the chips tended to be, but anything was possible.
“I’ll remove it now and we’ll re-chip him to be safe.” Medicci reached for her sterile implements.
“Remove it.” David cleared his throat. “But we’ll take him on base to get a new one in.”
Two feminine gazes pinned him with questioning looks. It was not the most comfortable he’d ever been. “The microchips for MWDs are more robust than the average pet chips linking a bar code to an owner’s name, address, and phone number. All military working dogs have GPS too.”
Medicci nodded. “We’re going to need to restrain him. This won’t cause major pain but it will be more than a pinch.”
“You don’t need to put him out, do you?” Lyn sounded concerned.