Page 53 of Beautiful Distraction

“Horses are loyal as long as you take care of them,” Kellanexplains, ignoring my statement. “But their emotions tend to get the better ofthem, and they’ll always put themselves first. They won’t hesitate to stompover you and desert you.”

His words catch me off guard.

His smile is still in place, but the dark glint hasn’t lefthis eyes.

Something about his tone makes me think he was in a badrelationship.

Maybe that’s why he is the way he is.

“I’m sorry that you think that way. But I can assure you,not all women are the same.” I brush my hair back out of my face, wonderingwhat the heck happened to him in the past that he’d generalize the entirefemale population.

Everyone has their closet full of emotional baggage. Itcomes with the people we let into our hearts and lives. Obviously, I’m not hereto prove Kellan wrong, which is why I clear my throat and think hard on achange in topic.

Through the kitchen window, I watch Sniper outside. He’ssprawled out on the lawn, his head between his paws. From his relaxed posture,I can tell he’s in doggy slumberland.

“He’s a good dog,” I say out of need to keep theconversation rolling.

“He is.”

I turn back to regard Kellan. “You say you adopted him?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I have nothing but time, as you must have gathered.” Ipoint at my ankle.

He lets out a laugh. “With a sprained ankle, you haveindeed.”

He puts the first aid kit aside and takes a seat beside me.Together we turn to watch Sniper.

“He’s a military working dog who was supposed to be put down,”Kellan says.

“Really? But why? He’s so sweet.” I cannot help but bedisgusted. “Besides, as a military working dog, he’s probably very useful.”

“He was.” Kellan pauses, hesitating. “Sniper was one of thebest in the service. He was trained to find booby traps, bombs and mines, trackenemy troops and missing persons. All you had to do was let him familiarizehimself with a scent and he’d run off and find the person. He was relentless.”He shakes his head in admiration, his eyes lost in reminiscence. “He saved somany soldiers. But then…”

I hold my breath. “But what?”

“His owner died in a bomb blast, and he stopped listening toanyone.”

“He was supposed to be euthanized for not following?” I askincredulously.

“It was more than that. He started to attack people that gottoo close. Every loud sound was traumatic for him. It got so bad, he wouldn’teat. He wouldn’t let anyone touch him. He wouldn’t work.” Kellan glances to me.“He was deemed dangerous, uncontrollable, useless.”

“Until you saved him.”

He nods again. “I did because I felt that I had to.” Hisvoice is so low it sends a shiver down my spine.

“What do you mean?” I ask breathlessly.

He looks away, taking his time with a reply. His eyes areglazed over as he stares into the distance, his mind a million miles away.

“Sniper’s owner was my best friend,” Kellan whispers atlast. “When she died, I felt like I owed it to her to take him in.”

I stare back at the dog, thousands of questions runningthrough my mind.

His best friend was female and she was a soldier. I can’timagine someone like Kellan being friends with a woman, and most certainly notwith one who fought for her country.

Heck, I can’t even imagine him living on a farm.

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