Page 25 of Chelsea’s Knight

“Are all of you bikers made of the same cloth or something?” I retort. “You all growl. You’re overprotective. You’re possessive but not in a creepy, stalker kinda way. And yes, when I was a little girl and my dad was out of town, he pushed me down the stairs and I ended up with a traumatic brain injury.”

Canyon, being so freaking helpful, interjects and adds, “She’s had two now thanks to our recent attack.”

“So, was it the first TBI or this last one which caused the epilepsy?” Nick asks, now all business.

“The first one. This last one has resulted in some medication changes, which are still being tweaked a little bit. Wait, how do you know the lingo?” I question. “Most people would’ve said brain injury.”

“I would’ve except the person who’s going to come in and work with you and your dog uses acronyms and shit, so I’ve apparently picked it up along the way,” he admits, grinning.

“Where are the dogs?” Canyon questions. “Is there more than one for Chelsea to choose from?” At Nick’s look, Canyon shrugs. “What can I say, Atlas told me how it was for him when he came and Koba chose him.”

“Let me show y’all around, then we’re going to meet the three the trainer and I feel would be potential good fits for Chelsea,” Nick replies.

* * *

“Only you would have the biggest fucking dog choose you,” Canyon says once we’re alone in the cabin we’ll be staying in. “There were three dogs, Chels,three,but two of them acted like you were a piece of cardboard and behaved as if you weren’t even in the room, while that fucking moose immediately came over to you and planted himself right next to your feet like y’all were long-lost friends.”

I can’t stop laughing because the look on his face is equal parts horror and incredulity.

“Handsome, you heard what Nick said. The dog chooses the human most of the time. That’s what Koba did to Atlas, right?”

“Yeah, true, but honest to Christ, babe, Wolverine outweighs you by a good thirty to forty pounds.”

“Canyon, his name is Smokey Joe, not Wolverine!” I sputter.

“Wolverine will suit him better once he has all his equipment and vests on,” he rebuts.

“I’m not changing his name, Canyon, he’s used to being called either Smokey or Smokey Joe, according to the trainer. I don’t want to confuse him.”

“Chels, he’s a dog, not a highly functional cognitive being.”

“He’s smart enough to know how to help me if I have a seizure so he obviously has some abilities and intelligence.”

“Point taken, Chels. Let me get the rest of our stuff inside so you can get settled.”

“That works, babe. I’d like a shower since Smokey and I practiced what he’ll do if I begin to fall while having a seizure. I’m pretty sure I have grass embedded in places where it shouldn’t be.”

He snickers while heading out the door, leaving me to look around the small but clean cabin. I’ll wait until later to explore.

Right now, the priority is grabbing my stuff and taking a shower.

Canyon

Somehow, I wrangle all of our shit into the cabin in one trip. Not sure how I accomplished it because I grabbed the gazillion bags from Buc-ee’s as well as our suitcases.

However, the look of astonishment on her face when I come walking in has me puffing up a bit, especially when she says, “I knew you were strong, but didn’t expect you to get everything all at once!”

“It’s arm day, sweetness,” I tease, flexing my biceps. I get my reward, however, when her tinkling, melodic laugh rings through the enclosed space.

“Well, I’ll take the rose gold suitcase off your hands, kind sir,” she jests. “Be prepared to be amazed and wowed when I return. No longer will I resemble a jumbled, hot mess. Instead, I will be wearing my homeless chic apparel.”

Leaning down, I capture her lips in a quick but satisfying kiss. As she sashays away, I retort, “I brought my gray sweatpants.” The look she shoots me over her shoulder has me smirking inside.

Her eyes are wide but there’s curiosity and a hint of lust, something I’m beyond thrilled to see.

Because even though we haven’t ‘gone there’ yet, I suspect it’s going to happen sooner rather than later. Regardless, I’ll take my cues from her and in the meantime, do whatever I can to drive her crazy. Snickering, I quickly put everything up while she heads into the bathroom. I notice her face is red so once she’s behind closed doors, I head toward the bedroom.

“Ah, fuck,” I mutter, seeing the double-sized bed. While we’ve slept in the same bed for some time now, and she usually ends up sprawled across me like a starfish despite the fact her bed is a king-size, this bed won’t allow for a lot of wiggle room.

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