“I know you had your own color code with those stickies you used at the warehouse,” he said, crossing his arms and making his biceps stand out even more in his tight, gray T-shirt. “But I thought green, yellow, and red were more universal. And this is for the volunteers who’ll be coming in too. The Doberman was one of the few who got a green, because he’s so obedient. I’m not sure he’ll be able to be placed in a home with another dog, considering all the ring time he’s had, but I think he’d roll over for a toddler who asked him to.”
Kelsey had named the Doberman Lucky because, at nine years old, not only was he the oldest dog here, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been in more fights than most of the other dogs combined. He had the faded scars to prove it. “And you gave him a label of beta because he’s not as macho-acting as some of the others?” she clarified.
“Pretty much. Their pack order will either be alpha, beta, or omega. I won’t confuse things by breaking it down any further. Betas, you probably know, are the least likely to give us trouble. Alphas might well test us, and omegas may act unpredictably if they feel a lot of stress.”
“That makes sense. And why the number one?”
“We’ll have more betas than him obviously, so I gave them numbers. I started with him since we’ve been starting our rounds with him first.”
“Shouldn’t that be where his name comes in? It’s Lucky, if you forgot. If you tell me where the marker is, I can add it.”
“Kelsey,” Kurt said, stopping her by closing his hand over her elbow. “I didn’t forget that you want to call him Lucky, but this place is going to be full of volunteers who will be helping us out. And I get why you give all the shelter animals a name right away, but names instill a certain camaraderie and connection with an animal. When it comes to these guys, I’m not sure we should be promoting that right now. Everyone who’ll be working with them needs to keep alert and—”
“Wait a minute,” Kelsey interrupted, her emotions flaring. “Are you saying you don’t want these guys to have names? After all they’ve been through, you don’t think they deserve names?”
Kurt’s shoulders sank. “I’m not saying they don’t deserve names. They do, and we’ll get there. What I’m saying is that everyone who’ll be working closely with them needs to keep in mind these animals were trained to fight, and as a result, they’re unpredictable. The dogs need training and consistency over affection right now.”
Kelsey shook her head. She was starting to see red. So Pepper and Buddy and Lucky were just supposed to be numbers?
“No way. I’ve listened to you on everything, but not this. You have a way with dogs, and I can see that, but no way. They’re going to get names and they’re going to be transferred to the shelter, and sooner rather than later they’re going to be adopted into loving homes. All of them.” She was upset enough to tap him pointedly on the chest. “And if you’d let your heart do a little co-ruling with your I-have-everything-under-perfect-control mind, you’d get that.”
Both of his hands immediately closed over hers, lifting off the finger she’d pressed against his well-muscled pec. One by one, he spread her fingers apart, then pressed his thumbs against her palm as he splayed her hand flat. The skin-on-skin contact was disarming, pulling Kelsey away from her anger.
“I was a soldier in enemy territory for longer that I care to recount,” he said calmly and slowly. “I’ve lost far more buddies and dogs than fingers I’m touching. And I can confidently tell you that letting your mind rule you will do little other than psych you out. Let your heart rule, and you’ll never pick up the pieces as you fall apart.” In a smooth movement, he pressed her hand low and tight against his abdomen, right below his belly button. “The way to survive is listening right here. The little whispers that form here are right a million times more than they are wrong. And my gut is telling me that your helpful shelter volunteers—and you, for that matter—need to respect the fact that many of these dogs have fought others to the death. That isn’t something you can hug away, Kelsey.”
It took her three solid seconds to react, to process that her hand was in fact pressed against his phenomenal, rock-hard stomach. His brown eyes held her gaze. A part of her wondered if he was taunting her, pressing her hand against him like that. But the only emotion visible in those warm, brown eyes was concern.
She yanked her hand away and practically shook it in hopes of dissipating some of the unexpected heat surging through her. “That was inappropriate.” Um, you touched him first. “And besides,” she added, forcing her thoughts back to the dogs, “I’m not backing down on this. You can give them numbers if you’d like, but I’m giving them names. The volunteers and I will respect your rules while the dogs start learning their names.” She stopped and swallowed. Her mouth was uncomfortably dry. It hadn’t disappeared yet, the feeling of his washboard stomach against the flat of her hand. How long would she be able to recall it so precisely?
“The faucet’s still running,” she said into his steely silence. “I think you’ll be able
