Let There Be Light: The Sled Dog Series, Book 2

by Melissa Storm

  “Oh yeah, like you’re such an Alaskan already,” Scarlett said, bumping Lauren with an over-fluffed hip.

  “Oh, girly. Just you wait! A thousand miles on the back of one of these sleds and you’ll want to relish in all the warm weather, too.” Something nostalgic flashed through Lauren’s bright eyes, and Scarlett wondered what untold memory was playing on the private screen of her friend’s mind.

  Lauren shook her head and stood back up. “Tell you what—let’s make a game of this. We’re going to go through all the regular duties of a handler and if you can make it through without removing a single layer, I’ll eat slurry for breakfast tomorrow.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then you have to eat it.”

  “That’s gross.” Scarlett stuck out her tongue, practically able to taste the mushy dog food already. “I like it.”

  “So it’s a deal then?” Lauren removed her hat just to really show off.

  “Yup. Prepare to taste dog breath!”

  “Oh, you think so?” Lauren laughed and led Scarlett to the supply shed. “First we have to feed the dogs, you guessed it, slurry. Difference is they actually want to eat this stuff. Sink’s in the corner. Go fill up, buttercup.”

  Lauren patiently explained everything they did, and Scarlett listened intently despite sweating bullets.

  “Now, we just ran through the icy tundra to Nome, so the dogs aren’t going for any real runs yet, but we can’t let them sit on their tails and get frostbite on their butts.”

  “Okay,” Scarlett said, now panting like one of the dogs. “So what are we doing?”

  “We’re going to harness them up and give them a nice, easy walk.”

  “Why does that sound more ominous than it sounds?”

  Lauren smiled so wide that Scarlett could see every one of her teeth. She looked crazy, and it didn’t take long for Scarlett to find out why.

  In a few short moments, Scarlett found herself holding a leash behind Fred, who was almost the size of Liz’s Samson. Lauren stood at the top of a short hill with a small bowl of the slurry mix.

  “I don’t understand what we’re doing.” Scarlett shouted up to her friend. “Is this normal handler stuff, or are you just being a butt?”

  Lauren laughed menacingly. “Do you have a grip on Fred?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “Hike! Hike! Hike!” Lauren shouted into the valley.

  In an instant, Scarlett’s feet left the ground as Fred took off up the hill. She felt like an oversized kite as she struggled to get her feet back under herself.

  By the time she finally found her footing, Fred was noisily slurping at his bowl.

  “All right, great first go, Scar.” Lauren snorted in an attempt to hold in her laughter. “Once he finishes his food, run him around the fence line and back to his hut. See you in a few seconds.”

  “Where are you going?” she asked as her friend jogged back down the hill.

  “To get the next dog.” Lauren called up over her shoulder, not even slightly short on breath. Meanwhile Scarlett had lost her breath from the heat alone. Still, she refused to lose their bet. Seeing Lauren eat dog food after today’s torment would be especially sweet.

  “Okay, it’s official,” she said later between breaths once all the dogs had run up the hill. “I now, officially, hate you.”

  “Aww, c’mon now, I only had you do one at a time. And I helped. It’s better than I got on my first day. Besides,” she said, gesturing to Scarlett’s jacket on the ground near one of the food buckets. “I really wanted to win the bet.”

  “What? No fair!” Scarlett hadn’t even remembered taking it off.

  “Just getting you ready. I doubt Henry Whatever the Turd will play fair on the trail and I want to make sure you kick his butt.”

  Scarlett groaned and picked up her discarded coat, struggling back into the sleeves.

  Lauren winked. “You don’t really have to eat dog food, Scar. I may be mean, but I’m not a monster.”

  “Yeah, yeah. So what’s next?”

  “We’re going to fulfill your dream. Darling, we’re building your sled,” Lauren said as she led the way back to her she-shed.

  She opened the door with a flourish, revealing a barebones wooden sled.

  “Technically, this was Shane’s old sled. He had practically buried it under a heap of junk. But it was the one he started with, and I figured since we’re training you to be a champion, you’ll need a champion’s sled.”

  Scarlett waved her hands in front of her face, trying to keep the tears at bay. “It’s too much, I can’t—”

  “Nonsense. You can, and you will. Otherwise, you’ll eat dog food, Miss!”

  Both women laughed and hugged.

  When they pulled apart, Lauren looked back toward Scarlett’s new old sled and said, “We’re rebuilding this not just so you have a sled to use, but so you understand how your sled feels and moves. Now get over here and step onto these skids.”

  A smile spread across her face and she hopped up onto skids.

  “How does that feel, Miss Scarlett Cole-Hara?” Lauren often teased her about her namesake, combining her last name with the heroine’s from Gone with the Wind as she did now.

  “Frankly, my dear…” Scarlett started responding with her line, then sighed complacently. This moment was too wonderful to be lost in silliness. “It feels perfect,” she finished after a deep, satisfied exhale. “Thank you for making all my dreams come true.”

  “One good turn deserves another.” Lauren wrapped an arm over Scarlett’s shoulders and hugged her again. “Now that I’m living my dream, I need my BFF to join me in hers.”

  After a bit more time examining her new sled, Scarlett set to putting the remaining equipment away. Lauren had already gone back inside to help Shane with his early afternoon exercises.

  That left Scarlett on her own, and she chose to spend that time studying the layout of the storage shed, to commit as much of it to memory as she possibly could. Athletic skill and building a stronger rapport with the dogs would take time, but she could study all the informational knowledge now—master that so she was ready when the other pieces of her training caught up.

  The shed smelled of fresh paint and plaster, even though it had been completed while Lauren was out running the Iditarod as a celebratory gift from Shane to her and the dogs.

  Where the chic new supply shed stood, a shabby, old wooden one had once sat in its place. Shane had kept the doors locked firmly until the night he forgot to turn off a space heater and the entire thing took to flame.

  Now it was Lauren’s oasis and soon-to-be Scarlett’s, too. Half of the space held neatly put-together shelves and well-organized equipment, and the other half hosted a couch, desk, and mini fridge.

  “It’s Lauren’s new she-shed!” Shane had declared proudly upon showing off the construction that was more than double the size of its predecessor. “I read about them on Buzzfeed. It’s her own little home away from home.”

  Lauren had kissed his cheek and said, “My home less than twenty feet away from home, and I love it!”

  She had, of course, then told Scarlett she could use the space whenever she needed a little more privacy than her bedroom provided. The only stipulation was that she not bring out a space heater, especially since the shed was already equipped with its own tiny heating system.

  Scarlett now searched through the shelves, committing the location of each item to memory. If ever she needed a snow hook in a hurry, she’d get one from the bottom right of the shelf closest to the door. The dog’s harnesses were arranged neatly at eye level on a series of brightly colored hooks.

  The extra dog food could be found—

  “Excuse me?” A familiar male voice floated into the shed, interrupting Scarlett’s assessment of her stock. She knew exactly who the voice belonged to, but not how it had reached her here. Had she accidentally turned on the radio or something?

  But, no, the dangerous combination of ho
neysuckle and lavender had seeped into her safe space as well.

  Which could only mean…

  Slowly, she rose from her stooping position and turned toward the door, hoping, praying that somehow her eyes would tell a different story than the one her other senses insisted upon.

  But, no, Henry Mitchell, III stood in the open doorframe, light illuminating him from behind, making it hard for Scarlett to discern his expression.

  “So we meet again,” he said smoothly, with the smallest hint of humor in his voice. Did he think the pain he’d put her through was funny? Because she certainly didn’t.

  “What do you want?” she managed, crossing her arms in front of her chest and holding back a giant sigh.

  “I had no idea it was you that night,” he admitted. “I hope Shane will forgive me for flirting with his missus, because I need your help. I need both of your help.”

  The words washed over Scarlett. So much to take in. She’d prepared what she would say to him should they ever meet again at least a hundred times, but now that he had come, she couldn’t get any of them out.

  “I’m not…” she started. How would she finish it? Not going to help you? Not Lauren, as you clearly think I am? Not going to forgive you? The possibilities stretched on almost as far as the snowy fields outside.

  Henry took several confident strides toward her. He wore a placating expression as if dealing with a disobedient dog or a difficult child. Scarlett hated it, hated him, and especially hated that, despite her anger, her body still reacted to his devastatingly handsome face and physique.

  Devastating like an earthquake or a hurricane.

  A poison.

  “Look, I just—”

  “You just need to leave!” Lauren interrupted, charging in and startling them both.

  “Who’s this, Lauren?” Henry asked Scarlett.

  “This is Lauren,” Lauren answered. “And you need to leave my friend alone. You’ve done enough already.”

  “I came here to see you,” he said, unfazed by the two sets of angry female eyes boring holes into his skull.

  “Well, mission accomplished. You see me. Now get out,” Lauren growled. Even her normally pretty features seemed wild in her rage.

  Henry took two defiant steps forward and now stood only inches from Lauren.

  Lauren didn’t waste a second. Having already had the time to memorize the contents of her shed, she bent down swiftly and grabbed a snow hook from the lowest shelf just behind her.

  “Okay…” Henry said, taking a firm step back in response. “Look, no need to get angry. I just came to hire you to help me train for the race. I’ll pay you well and keep the press out of your hair.”

  Lauren raised the hook threateningly above her head, which had the desired effect.

  “Jeez, all right! I’ll take that as a no for now.”

  “It’s a no forever. Get lost!”

  Scarlett watched as Henry stumbled back out through the door, as Lauren filled its frame, patting the hook in her hand like an old-school musical gangster. She practically expected her friend to snap her fingers and break out into song.

  Everyone else played their parts in this little performance, but not Scarlett. She had forgotten her lines, trapped in the blinding spotlight of Henry Mitchell, III’s confident gaze.

  There would be no encore performance for her. No second chance to get things right.

  She’d flubbed it up.

  Again.

  Scarlett sank down onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands. She’d always been able to stick up for herself before. Why did the very sight of this man catch her so off guard, cause her to lose her voice?

  Lauren’s voice, however, came through strong as ever. “What a creep,” she growled as she slammed the door behind the now departing Henry Mitchell, III.

  The cushions on the couch sank beneath the added weight when her friend plunked down beside her.

  “What happened?” Lauren asked, squeezing Scarlett’s shoulder.

  “You came in almost right after him.” Scarlett sniffed and blinked up at the light stuck to the ceiling. If only it could blind her from the memories that swirled furiously around her brain now, the regrets.

  “Well, it’s a good thing I did. You looked terrified. Is there anything about that night at the ball you need to tell me?”

  “No, it’s not like that.” Scarlett gasped in horror, realizing her friend assumed that Henry had done much more than ask for a kiss.

  “Then what is it like?”

  “I don’t know,” Scarlett admitted. “I’m so confused.”

  Lauren popped back to her feet and began to pace the small shed’s interior, picking up steam with each step. “Then let me fill in a few details for you. Shane will be able to say more, but here’s what I know.”

  Scarlett listened in silence as Lauren reminded her all the reasons why Henry Mitchell, III was no good, no way, no how. Her friend was right, and the more distance Scarlett had from the man, the more she agreed. It was only seeing him again that had caught her so off guard that had taken her anger and twisted it into something else.

  But what? Scarlett honestly didn’t know, and she doubted she ever would.

  “Not to mention,” Lauren continued as Scarlett realized her own internal monologue had drowned out some of Lauren’s. “His grandfather is the most despicable human to ever walk this earth.”

  Scarlett chose not to mention all the many other bad men in history, because that was beside the point. The first Henry Mitchell had done so much wrong in his long life, and now he’d employed his grandson as some kind of sick agent to continue his legacy of cruelty, even from the grave.

  “What else do you think is in that will? In the bucket list?” Scarlett asked, suddenly needing to know, needing to understand what exactly was at stake and where they might run into him again. If she was prepared the next time, then…

  “Who cares?” Lauren exploded. “If something is done with evil intent, how can any part of it be good? For all we know, he has his henchman murdering puppies and stealing tax dollars. And make no mistake about it, Scar, he’s a henchman.”

  “I know, but…” Scarlett twisted her hands in her lap, unsure of what she meant to say.

  “But what? Please don’t tell me you have feelings for him. He used you, remember that?”

  “No, no, of course not!” Scarlett’s heart sank as she lied to her best friend for the first time. For as confused as Scarlett felt about the man who was the topic of their conversation, she had all kinds of feelings for him.

  Anger.

  Curiosity.

  Attraction.

  The list went on and on, but she needed to keep the details of it to herself.

  Lauren had made her argument known, and Scarlett couldn’t disagree with a single point.

  So then, why did her mind still drift toward the memory of his hand on the small of her back, his breath playing at her ear, even his cocksure grin as he told the world what he needed, fully anticipating he'd get it?

  Why couldn’t Scarlett focus on only the anger as Lauren was now doing? Why did she still feel trapped beneath his gaze even now?

  Scarlett shook the snow from her boots at the doorway, only realizing now how sore her muscles had become during the course of that morning’s training workout.

  “How was your first official day on the job?” Shane asked brightly as the two women joined him in the kitchen.

  “I’d say it was a lot better than mine,” Lauren said pointedly, glancing toward Scarlett with a look of clear disapproval. “Except for our end-of-day intruder.”

  “Oh, is that danged moose back?” Shane chuckled as he glanced out the window in search of Puffin Ridge’s very own moose menace.

  “I wish!” Lauren grumbled, pulling out a chair across from her husband and plopping into it before at last revealing, “Henry Mitchell paid us a visit today.”

  Shane’s eyes shot back to Lauren as if drawn by a magnet. “Henry Mitchell? I
thought he had finally kicked the bucket. His ghost better not be haunting my shed, or I’ll have to burn it down a second time.”

  “This is serious, Shane. Scarlett—”

  “Was just as surprised as you were,” Scarlett finally spoke up, tired of Lauren fighting on her behalf… Or, maybe it was fighting with her. This time, Scarlett couldn’t really tell.

  Lauren rolled her eyes, unwilling to accept this. “You know who I mean. She danced with him at the Miners and Trappers Ball.”

  “Oh, you mean the heir.” Shane frowned and laid his hands out flat on the table. “I guess that’s a little better than a ghost, but not much.”

  “This is serious!” Lauren was a fierce opponent. When she was on Scarlett’s side, the other guy didn’t stand a chance. This time, it felt like Scarlett was the other guy, and she hated it. After all, she hadn’t done a single thing wrong—and she definitely hadn’t asked for all this attention from Henry Mitchell, III.

  “I still can’t believe you let that happen.” Lauren continued her tirade as Shane listened more or less calmly. Finding his happily ever after with Lauren had done a lot to soothe his once intense temper. “Scarlett—”

  “Scarlett—” She hated how her own name tasted on her tongue. “—can make her own decisions. Now please stop. This is all ancient history, okay?”

  “If that’s so, then why did he come up here today?” Lauren demanded. Both Ramseys turned toward Scarlett, so many questions in their eyes.

  Well, Scarlett didn’t have the answers, and she was sick to tears of being asked. “I don’t know, but it wasn’t to see me. He thought I was you.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Lauren laughed angrily. “Get this: he wanted us to train him. Can you believe that?”

  Shane shook his head, and Scarlett couldn’t tell if he was more angry or amused. “How could he possibly think…?”

  “I know! It’s insane. He’s all over every news outlet in the state, claiming how he’s going to win, to live out his grandfather’s legacy.”

  “A legacy of cruelty,” Shane added, looking out the window once again as if he wanted to make sure that his dogs were okay at even the thought of the Mitchells.