“Your dog doesn’t respect you.” Vonda reached down to scratch behind Sam’s ear. “I can help you with that problem, but I can’t help train him to herd. Do we have a deal?”

Tom took off his hat, scratched his head and slammed it back on as if to hold in steam. Judging from the color of his face, he should have let his hair wave free in the breeze. It might cool things off. One long finger pointed at Sam. One nicely shaped, work hardened finger. The list of things that finger could do to her body rushed through Vonda’s brain on fast forward. It didn’t help that the man whose finger provoked such lascivious thoughts was the best-looking thing in this little Podunk town.

Why was she thinking such thoughts? Concentrate, Vonda, concentrate! Last time she thought this way about a man she was in heat. Oh shit. Not again. No wonder Sam stuck to her like proverbial glue.

Wait. Tom’s mouth was moving. “...me?”

“Huh? I’m sorry, what did you say?” Good job Vonda, way to look stupid on your first visit with a client.

“I said, how can that dog not respect me?”

“Well, dogs see things differently than humans. If you don’t act like the alpha, then they assume they are the alpha. That’s what creates problems. That’s where I can help.”

“Yes, yes. I know. But I have other herding dogs. None of them give me problems. What’s up with that?” A frustrated green stare bored into her.

Men frustrated so easily. Humans in general. Ever see a canine with hypertension?

Sam licked her hand. Then she smelled it. The scent of a man. Not just any man. A man she wanted to mate with. A man about six four, with sandy blond, almost brown hair and green eyes. A man who stood less than three feet from her.

Damn hormones.

If she didn’t get out of here soon she’d lose any chance of ever being a dog trainer.