CHAPTER THREE
Driving back down the hill from Watchdog, Sylvie couldn’t believe how her day had turned from absolute crap to so wonderful she wanted to sing.
So she tapped the icon for the music app on her phone and hit random.
“Yes!” She punched the roof of her cruiser when the first bass notes of “Love is Alive” came on. One of her favorite songs—she was a sucker for seventies and eighties rock—and this was a song she always considered good luck whenever it played. She resisted the urge to crank up the music to full volume; she was on the clock after all and needed to hear her radio in case she got called to a scene. Still, she sang along loudly while poor, long-suffering Chewie endured her off-key voice.
It was great news that Chewie would have a nice, safe place to stay while she sorted her housing problems, but even better—Sylvie had a dinner date with Alex Hoff, the hottest guy in a stable full of hot guys at Watchdog. He’d actually told her yes, and that shocked her as much as asking him out did.
She’d asked guys out before. Sometimes you had to take the initiative when you had a job that intimidated some people. But when she did, it was always spontaneous, and she never expected those dates to turn into anything serious. None of them had. They led to some good times, and then the eventual ghosting or low-key breakup, either by her or by the guy. No hard feelings on either side, no drama, and that’s how she liked it.
But Alex was different. She liked him immediately. He had a strong, quiet energy that appealed to her. Sylvie could sense his strength from a distance, sense just a hint of mystery and intensity. The way he handled the dogs—and his human students—with supreme confidence but still full of genuine affection and praise. He’s real is what she’d thought throughout that first class. And she was smitten.
She’d seen him once at a bar after that, and he behaved exactly as she’d predicted. Alex was the guy in the group hanging back, sitting at a table and watching his buddies attempting to make a friend for the night while he sat and sipped his drink. She knew if one of them needed an emergency condom or ride home after one too many beers, he’d be their man. He’d wait for a woman to approach him, not the other way around. Sylvie got the impression that he’d be a gentleman no matter what. Sylvie was too intimidated to be the woman to approach Alex, so she studied him instead, wondering if he wasn’t interested in a relationship or if he was discerning and hadn’t met anyone he liked yet.
And then a woman did sidle up to his table and Sylvie’s heart sank, realizing she’d lost her opportunity. He ordered the woman a drink, listened to her talk until after a while she was brushing her fingers across his hand.
This is it. He’s leaving with her tonight. Stop dreaming, Sylvie. Her stomach flip-flopped.
And then he declined that subtle invitation to take her home in such a way that she didn’t look offended when she walked away. Amazing.
More and more, Sylvie wanted to be the one he did decide to take home.
So, instead of her usual spontaneity, she’d been screwing up her courage to ask him to dinner because she was thinking that’s what it would take, that she’d have to make the first move and hope she didn’t get shot down. Maybe he’d tell her that he wanted to keep things professional, and she could respect that, go back to admiring him from afar, even if a little voice inside her head told her she was missing something good.
But maybe he wouldn’t shoot her down. Maybe he’d say yes.
Sylvie had decided to wait until they’d completed the classes just to avoid any sort of awkwardness or accusations of favoritism by Stan. She didn’t want Frank teasing her about being teacher’s pet (literally) or worse—accusing her of acting inappropriately if she got the position on the K9 squad and he didn’t. It wasn’t like him to do something like that; Frank had been her mentor in the department, and they’d known each other long enough that they’d built trust. But she didn’t want to risk anything. Sylvie really wanted on the K9 Unit and she knew Chewie would make a great police dog.
So, Sylvie was torn between wanting to get to know Alex outside of class right now, and waiting until it was safer.
She went back and forth in her head. Who says he’ll even be interested? Maybe he has someone already. No ring on his finger, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t seeing someone. Still, she felt an attraction between them, especially when she showed up before the others and flirted with him as casually as she could. Nothing overt, just testing the waters. She’d caught his gaze lingering on her just a little longer than needed. She’d even gotten to the point of relaxing around him, and he wasn’t afraid to smile back and return her banter.
Which gave her hope. She decided she’d ask him out after their last class.
Then all her carefully-laid plans went out the window because of her HOA. Alex’s offer to kennel Chewie while she figured out what to do absolutely melted her and she asked him to dinner before she could stop herself.
And he’d said yes.
Dammit, I hate to think I owe that bitch a thank you. Sylvie smirked. But she would be so confused if I told her thank you. It would be totally worth it just to see that.
She turned toward the little town of Lyons and the police substation there. Lyons wasn’t big enough to have its own police force so they depended on Boulder County for law enforcement. Sergeant George Williams was in charge, and had asked her to stop by for a talk today during her lunch break. When she parked the cruiser in the parking lot of the tiny substation, Chewie let out a happy whine.
“You know where we are, don’t you buddy?” The dog nearly wagged his tail off as she clipped his leash to his collar. He was normally obedient to a fault but Chewie tugged at his leash and took her for a drag straight to the front door. When she opened it, Chewie announced their presence with a gleeful bark.
“Hey! I wonder who’s here,” George called from his office in the back.
Sylvie shared a smile with the receptionist as she unhooked Chewie and let him run to the back, following behind the eager dog. By the time she got there, George already had Chewie balancing a treat on his nose, waiting for the command to toss it into the air and catch it on the way down.
“Go!” George said, and the treat vanished in the flick of an eye. He laughed and petted the dog, who was now half-sprawled across his lap as he sat behind his desk. And sure enough, George had already torn a big bite off his Italian sub for the dog, which he set down on a paper napkin on the floor.
“Good Lord, Sarge. You keep spoiling him like that, he’ll think he’s a lapdog and not a tough almost-police dog.”
George looked up, frowning. “I’m not spoiling him.” He turned to Chewie. “I’m not spoiling you, am I, buddy? Tell your mama I’m not.”
Sylvie took advantage of the situation to give Chewie a hand command Alex had taught her as a joke. The dog yawned loudly, dropped down, and rolled onto his back.
George erupted into laughter.
“See? I’m right, you are.” Then Sylvie laughed, too.
“I stand corrected.” George got to his feet and Sylvie leaned in for a kiss on the cheek. “But he is my grand-dog after all, so I’m entitled.”
“Whatever, Dad.”