by K. A. Tucker
By the time I reach the mowed path that connects the two sides of the property, Tyler is almost back to his truck. “Hey!” I holler, my hands cupped around my mouth, hoping my voice will reach him as I trudge forward. The worst of the rain is over, but a thick blanket of cloud still smothers any glimpse of the sun. “Tyler!” My boots sink into the soft ground, collecting mud with each hurried step.
His head swivels.
Today’s bleakness can’t dampen the energy that surges through my limbs as I watch his sleek figure move toward me, clad in blue jeans and a soft gray shirt that stretches across his chest and shoulders, the collar framing his columnar neck.
When I’m with you, I forget about everything else. You make me feel like myself again.
The closer he gets, the harder my heart beats. I haven’t been able to dismiss his words, and they’ve kindled a heady anticipation that now burns inside me, no matter how hard I try to douse it. “Hey. I saw you through the window.” My breathing is a touch ragged by the time our paths meet. “Is something wrong?”
His eyes glow with soft amusement. “You always ask me that when you see me.”
“That’s because when we see each other, something usually is wrong.” If I rifle back through our run-ins—a heated accusation of animal neglect, a downed musher, an unexpected encounter with a bitter ex, a maimed dog, a pregnant dog in peril—every single one has been marked with trouble.
“Fair enough. Nothing’s wrong this time.” His attention roves over my joggers and sweatshirt, and I silently curse myself for not dressing better today.
Car doors slam behind me. I turn to see Jim and Tillie heading hand-in-hand for the front door, Tillie skipping beside him. She is a daddy’s girl, through and through. Meanwhile, Liz is helping Nicole down from the back seat of their new extended cab pickup. Jim may be frugal, but ironically, he’s always eager to open his wallet when the purchase involves a motor. In this case, he rationalized it because, with the baby coming, they needed a bigger vehicle. The baby’s not due for many months, and an SUV or minivan would have made far more sense for three children, but he’ll find an argument to counter that logic.
My sister is hiding her bloated belly behind a bulky sweater and leggings.
“Looks like I came at a bad time?”
“No, it’s fine. That’s just my sister and her family. We get together on Sundays for dinner.” And Liz, still annoyed with my part in convincing Vicki and Oliver to move home, mostly ignores me, aside from a subtle dig here and there.
“Every Sunday?”
“Pretty much.”
A pensive expression touches his striking face. “I just came here to give you this.” Digging into his jeans pocket, he produces a key and holds it out for me. “It’s for the lock on the new gate. I figure it’s cheaper if I give you access to my property.”
I laugh as I accept it from him, his thumb grazing mine in the process. “This could have waited until tomorrow.”
“It could have.” He bites his bottom lip. I wish I could read the thoughts behind that look.
You make me feel like myself again.
Is that why he’s here, now?
I’m about to ask how Reed is when a clown horn blasts, breaking the staring contest.
We shift our attention to the UTV puttering down the path, my white-haired father behind the wheel, his cast-wrapped leg sticking out the open door. All three dogs trot alongside him.
Tyler smiles. “Good to see that leg isn’t slowing him any.”
“His doctor wouldn’t agree.” Dad must have moved quickly after I left, to have made his way out the door and into that seat. What kind of mischief is the stubborn old man up to now?
I guess I’m about to find out.
“This is what I call service, the park ranger coming to check on his rescue,” Dad bellows. “Hello there, Tyler Brady!”
Tyler breaks into a wide grin, accentuated by two dimples deep in his cheeks. “Good to see you, sir.”
“Don’t ‘sir’ me. Call me Sidney. Or Sid. Or Dr. Lehr.”
Yukon and Bentley reach Tyler at the same time and set to sniffing his jeans, no doubt picking up the scent of his kennel on his clothes. As usual, Aurora hangs back, watching warily from a distance.
Tyler gives each of them a hand to sniff before weaving his fingers through their fur coats. “I wanted to drop something off for Marie. I didn’t mean to interrupt your family time.”
“You’re not! In fact, I came out to ask you to join us.”
I spear my father with a stare.
But he continues, deftly ignoring me. “Normally, we have pot roast on Sundays, but we’ve got two pregnant women in there. The smell of beef is turning Vicki’s stomach right now, and Liz says she can’t handle pork, so honestly, I’m not sure what the hell we’re eating tonight.”
“Mom made chicken, Dad,” I say dryly.
“Is that what that was?” His brows draw together. It’s all part of the act, though. “Well, you’re welcome to it, Tyler. Any friend of Marie’s is a friend of ours.” He gives the UTV gas and steers it back toward the house, hollering over his shoulder, “Oh, and I will be offended if you don’t take me up on the offer!” With a sharp whistle, all three dogs chase after him.
“He’s just kidding.”
“About inviting me to dinner?”
“No, about being offended. Don’t worry, you’re not obligated to come.”
Tyler frowns. “Are you saying you don’t want me there?”
“No, I didn’t say that—”
“Good, because I think I want to take him up on it.”
I glare at him. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No.” He punctuates that with a head shake. “I actually really want to sit down with the Lehr family.”
I laugh it off. “Yeah, I really don’t think you do.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and it would be downright sexy if not for my dread. “Why not?”
“Because things have been weirdly volatile, with clinic stuff and the pregnancies and … and …” I stumble over my excuses. “We don’t bring friends to Sunday dinner.” Or emotionally unavailable men we have sex with in parking lots. None of us have ever brought a guy to Sunday dinner who we weren’t dating. Jonathan was the only man I ever invited. I never even invited Jonah, afraid someone might betray me and reveal my true feelings.
Tyler shrugs. “There’s a first time for everything.” But there’s that look of determination on his face, much like the day Jonah invited him to the Ale House.
“Well, okay, you’ve already met my father, so you know what he can be like. My nieces are fine. They’re picky eaters and they’re loud, but cute. Vicki will spend the entire dinner trying to set us up. Liz will spend it judging me. Oliver isn’t here, which is too bad because he’s a good buffer for my lazy and obnoxious brother-in-law, Jim, who thinks he has a say in how I run my clinic. It will be one of the worst nights you’ve had in a long time.”
His frown grows deeper, more thoughtful as he considers that. “So, it’s this way, right?” He starts moving toward my parents’ house.
I grab onto his forearm, stalling him. I’m still not sure if he’s being serious or if this is all a game to unsettle me, but he needs to understand. “I don’t know what kind of questions they’re going to ask you about your life.” I give him a pointed look.
“I’m not as fragile as you think, Marie. You don’t have to protect me.” His voice is soft, warm.
“I know. I just …” My eyes drift to his mouth. I just want you to kiss me again. “What are you doing here, Tyler?” Besides confusing me.
He swallows. “Remember when you said maybe we could grab a coffee or dinner sometime?”
“Yeah?” All those months ago, back when I put myself out there, and he promptly shut me down.
“So then, let’s do that.”
Is he saying what I think he is? “You want to complicate your life?”
He reaches up to gen
tly stroke a wayward strand of hair off my face. “I think that’s happening, whether I want it or not. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I’m honestly not sure what’s happening.”
He jerks his head toward the house. “Come on … I don’t want to miss your horrible family dinner.” Giving my forearm a gentle squeeze, he leads me the way I came with backward steps and a mischievous smirk.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I trail after him, my boots caked in mud.
And my heart soaring with new possibilities.
* * *
“Quit playing with your food,” Liz warns Tillie.
“I don’t like bones in my chicken,” the nine-year-old grumbles, her chin resting on her propped arm as she stabs at the meat with her fork. “Why can’t we have beef?”
“Because the smell of it makes your aunt Vicki want to throw up,” Vicki says from the end of the table, shoveling spoonfuls of pureed carrots into an impatient Molly’s gaping mouth, her own plate of food growing cold.
“I don’t like bony chicken, either!” Nicole whines.
“Eat everything on your plates or no dessert,” Liz hisses. Her temper is unusually short today, and I can’t tell if it’s the physical strain from the first trimester or the mental strain from missing the glass of wine she normally has with dinner. Probably both.
“I get twenty-two miles per gallon in that truck,” Jim announces around a forkful of chicken, having tuned out his children and wife.
“Is that good?” My mom feigns interest.
“Not as good as if they’d bought that truck used. May as well have flushed fifteen grand down the toilet as soon as they drove it off the lot,” my dad counters while Jim’s mouth is too full to respond.
Beside me, Tyler sits, eating and watching and answering the odd question thrown at him about the Iditarod and his seasonal park ranger position.
“Have more chicken, Tyler.” Mom gestures toward the platter in front of him.
“I’m good for now. Thanks, Eleanor.” Tyler smiles politely at my mom. “I still have a piece.”
“What about green beans?” She holds up the casserole dish. “Or carrots?”
His smile widens. “Still got some of those, too. Thanks.”
She pauses a beat. “Potatoes?”
“Jesus, Eleanor. The man hasn’t even finished his plate!” My dad gives my mom an exasperated look.
“Jee-sus!” Nicole echoes, bursting with laughter as if my father’s made a joke.
“Don’t say that!” Liz scowls at my dad. “Either of you!”
Dad winces at his granddaughter. “Sorry, Tyler, it’s been a few years since we’ve had someone new at the table. Well, a new male grown-up. Not these little urchins.” He casts a wink toward Tillie and Nicole. “My one son-in-law, the one who’s at work right now, eats like he has a hollow leg, and this one has no problem helping himself to thirds.”
“Don’t mind if I do, actually.” Jim reaches across the table and grabs a thigh by the end with his fingers, dropping it unceremoniously on his plate.
“I mean, not that I’m looking to add you to my collection of sons-in-law,” my father continues.
I groan. “Dad.”
Beside me, Tyler chuckles.
“So, where did you two meet again?” Vicki asks as she wipes a smear of carrot off Molly’s chubby cheek.
“At the race,” I lie, at the same time that Tyler answers with, “On my property, when Marie trespassed to accuse me of neglecting my dogs.”
I give the side of his leg a swift kick.
“This is the one you were talking about that night?” Liz stares at me, genuinely surprised. As am I. I didn’t think she was listening.
“You’ve been talking about me with your family? All good things, I hope.” He smirks as he carves into his chicken. But beneath the table, he gently nudges his knee against mine.
The simple contact makes me falter. “That was a misunderstanding that we cleared up during the race. Now I’m his veterinarian.”
“Funny, I don’t remember Harry ever coming to dinner,” Vicki quips, flashing a wry smile my way that says she doesn’t buy the emphasized just a friend label I threw on when I introduced Tyler to a kitchen full of curious stares.
As if waiting for her mother’s fleeting distraction, Molly throws her bowl, splattering pureed carrots all over the floor and nearby walls. She shrieks with delight as Yukon and Bentley dive in for the cleanup.
“No one can say those dogs don’t eat well.” My mom laughs, climbing out of her chair and heading for the cupboard for a fresh bowl. “You eat, Vicki. I’ll finish feeding her.”
“It’s the new game around here this week.” Dad grunts as Vicki cradles her forehead in her hands in frustration. “So, Tyler, how’s the off-season training going? Must be tough to handle, with your day job.”
“It’s busy. My handler works on commands with them through the day, and I take them out for short runs on their harnesses with the ATV at night, when it’s cool enough. Between work and the dogs, I don’t have much time for anything else.”
And yet he’s here now, having dinner with my family, I think with a bubble of satisfaction.
“Earl Hatchett used to love takin’ his dogs out under a midnight sun.” My dad waggles a finger at Nicole and Tillie. “Girls, that’s how these mushers keep these dogs in shape when there’s no snow. They have them run ahead of the ATVs.”
“I know.” Tillie’s eyes flick upward to the ceiling.
“Oh, of course you do. I forgot you’re nine years old and you already know everything. Tyler, you gonna do tours?”
“Nah.”
“Not interested, huh. Yeah, don’t blame you. Dealin’ with all those people traipsing all over your property. Besides, you already have an off-season income. I heard Harry’s been pushing those kennel tours hard this summer.”
“I’d believe it. I’ve seen quite a few cars heading into his place.” If Tyler is annoyed by the traffic, he doesn’t let on.
“Anything to save that kennel. I hope for Earl’s sake, he can. His father and I were good friends.”
“You’re good friends with everyone, Dad,” I tease.
“Can’t help being such a likable guy.” He winks. “Which reminds me … I was tellin’ my good friend Bill Compton all about your kennel, Tyler. Marie was raving about it. He would love to do a piece on you. Come out, ask you a bunch of questions. Maybe spend the day. Thinks it would be good for the sport. The bad apples have been getting way too much attention.”
I should’ve known there was an ulterior motive here. “Dad …” I give him a look. “Tyler doesn’t like doing interviews.” Something both he and Bill have learned already.
He shrugs. “Was worth a shot. I guess he can go to Harry. Lord knows that guy likes to talk about himself.”
“Hey, what happened with the Hatchetts, by the way?” Jim tears off a chunk of meat from the bone. “Sid says you lost their business?”
His choice of words and the very fact that he’s asking stiffens my spine. “Harry thought he had a say in how I run things, but he doesn’t. Nobody does,” I say pointedly.
“Still, that’s a lot of revenue gone.” Jim shakes his head as if in disapproval.
I grit my teeth against the urge to tell him to fuck off.
Even my father is annoyed. “Mind your business before she finds a new accountant, Jim.”
But my brother-in-law, as obtuse as usual, doesn’t take the hint. “Just pointing out the obvious, Sid. Especially now that you’ve got all these people to feed under this roof.”
“Tyler, you must want another beer,” my mom declares suddenly. “Marie, why don’t you grab your guest another from the fridge.”
I know what she’s doing—trying to fend off an explosive argument. For Tyler’s sake, I appreciate it.
But before I can even set down my cutlery, Tyler is on his feet, his palm resting on my shoulder to keep me in place. “I’ve got it. I’ll get you one, to
o. Can I grab anyone else anything?”
My dad waves his drained bottle in the air.
With a quick stroke of his thumb against my collarbone, Tyler collects the empties from the table and heads for the fridge.
I track his sleek, easy movements the entire way.
“Take notes, Jim,” Vicki murmurs under her breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear.
I snort, and the simple act helps alleviate some of my anger. Tyler’s lingering touch is also working its magic, a pleasant warmth that’s spreading through my chest and down into my lower belly. He may have meant it as an innocent move, for reassurance, for comfort. But to me, it’s also a promise of how good his hands would feel all over my body.
Liz’s gaze narrows as she cuts off the rest of Nicole’s meat for her. She knows her husband’s a lazy sack, but she always acts offended when anyone else points it out. “So, Vicki, are you actually going to finish your school hours this time?”
Vicki takes a deep breath, but I can almost hear her teeth grinding. “I’ve already spoken to my instructors about coming back.”
“Good. Because you won’t have time once the baby’s born. You think Molly is hard? Just wait until you have two.” Her laugh drips with a patronizing tone, her words a careless dismissal of our youngest sister’s struggles.
Vicki smiles sweetly. “But just imagine how hard it’ll be with three.”
I would be ecstatic with one, I acknowledge silently as Tyler returns with the beers and takes his seat next to me again, his thigh bumping against mine when he shifts in. “What are you going to school for, Vicki?” If the undercurrent of tension flowing through our dining room bothers him, he doesn’t let on.
“Hair design. I want to run my own place at home, in a garage or a back room. Somewhere I can take clients at my own pace while being able to raise my kids.”
I nudge Tyler’s side with my elbow. “I was thinking Vicki should come out to your place and cut Reed’s hair.”
He chuckles. “If she can pin him down long enough.”
“You know”—Jim taps the air with his fork, his attention on my dad—“you could convert that cabin into a salon for Vicki, and she can work out of there.”
