This time Preston had no qualms about his treat. He was obviously marking something, right?
When he got to the guest room, Spencer was washed and wearing Damien’s clothes, and Preston told the dog to “mark” one more time.
Colonel sniffed around the room—twice—and when he came back to Spencer, he whined at his hands, like he was looking for treats. Spencer gave Preston a baleful look and petted the dog, even though Colonel was working and shouldn’t be petted right now. But Preston let it slide.
“He’s not marking me,” Spencer said. “It must have been on my clothes.”
Suddenly Colonel did a remarkable thing. He gave a faint woof and stood on his hind legs—which he was not supposed to do—and nuzzled Spencer’s smooth-shaven cheek, sniffing like mad, then moving to his neck.
And sank down to his crouch and barked once and looked at Preston for a treat.
Spencer frowned and touched his cheek and neck, and then looked at Colonel in surprise.
“My aftershave?” he asked, surprised. “You liked my aftershave?”
Colonel woofed one more time, and Preston gave him his treat and then told him to go play. As Preston turned around to walk out of the room, Spencer gave a joyful hello and all but hugged the dog as he pet him.
“Hey, Preston!” Spencer called before Preston cleared the room. “Why are you so upset?”
Preston closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. “Your perfume has ruined my dog,” he said—perhaps unfairly, but there you go. Months of training, and now they had to see if the dog had enough sense to leave the aftershave alone.
Spencer snorted. “I just think your dog has the good sense to know a good-smelling man, don’t you, boy?”
Preston turned around before he could see Colonel licking Spencer’s face, which was a no-no, a sign of a badly trained dog, and something Colonel hadn’t been able to quit doing, especially when Spencer visited.
“What’s wrong?” Damien said as Preston stomped into their bedroom.
“You’re leaving, and Spencer broke my dog.”
Damien grimaced. “I’m sorry about leaving,” he said, reaching out to pull Preston into a hug. “But maybe that dog wasn’t supposed to be a working dog, have you ever thought of that?”
“What use is he?” Preston wailed. Months. He’d spent months trying to train that dog to return to the police department.
“Sh… listen.”
Spencer was singing Colonel’s praises, telling him what a good dog he was, promising him treats and runs on the beach and long days sleeping in the sun.
“But Spencer can’t have a dog in Glen’s apartment,” Preston told him.
“No,” Damien said, his almond-shaped eyes creasing kindly at the corners. “But we can keep Spencer’s dog here.”
Preston drew up short. “That… why would we do that?”
“Because Spencer just flew out to get me so I could help keep our company afloat, and because he took over Glen’s time slot because Glen’s back hurt. Because he’s a good guy, and he deserves a dog, and until he finds a place to keep that one, I think we’re stuck with him.”
Preston sighed and rested his forehead against Damien’s shoulder.
“I hate that you have to go,” he said, feeling sad and irritated.
“I know. But I’ll be back. Take care of my favorite dog handler, okay?”
Preston held him tight. “Sure. And I’ll take care of Spencer’s damned dog too.”
“It’s what dog handlers do best,” Damien soothed. They stayed there, in that hug, for a few heartbeats more. Preston thought he could probably wear Damien’s smell on his skin like Spencer wore aftershave.
He was glad that Colonel wouldn’t scent that and mark it. That could be very inconvenient after Damien got back.