Alaskan Hearts

by Teri Wilson

  Please.

  Chapter Six

  Despite his desperate plea, Ben fully expected to see Clementine’s halo of blond curls splayed on the ice when he reached the figure curled on the ground next to the ambulance. Confusion, mixed with a surprising sense of relief, washed over him as he stared down at a man holding his arm to his chest.

  A man, not a woman. Not Clementine.

  The man winced as a paramedic turned his arm ever so slightly. Ben, at once feeling very out of place, looked down at his feet. He looked up only when he heard a familiar, melodic voice calling his name.

  “Ben?”

  He turned to see Clementine standing beside a striking, fawn-colored dog. She waved at him with one hand and held on to the dog’s purple harness with the other.

  Ben went to her. When he reached her, he stood wordlessly before her, letting his gaze travel over her exquisite, unharmed face.

  “You’re white as a sheet.” Her hat had fallen off, leaving her curls whipping in the frigid wind. She looked wild.

  Ben found himself wishing he had his camera. He even reached for it, but of course it wasn’t there. He hadn’t even taken the time to grab his gloves on his way out the door.

  He plunged his hands in his pockets. “I heard the ambulance and, um…”

  “You assumed I was the one who got hurt.” She lifted an angry eyebrow.

  He opened his mouth to contradict her, but she wouldn’t let him get a word out.

  “You think I’m utterly incapable, don’t you?” She huffed out a breath. “For your information, Clark over there fell down and broke his wrist. It could have happened to anyone. It’s slippery out here, you know. He even stopped, dropped and rolled.”

  Ben’s mouth twitched and he struggled not to laugh. “He rolled out of the way?”

  “Yes.” She nodded, and a flicker of pleasure passed through her features before she resumed her hands-on-hips, irritated stance. “You knew what I meant. When I said that earlier, my instructor looked at me like I was nuts.”

  “I don’t think you’re nuts.” He took note when the husky at her feet leaned against her legs and nuzzled her knee.

  She’s even managed to charm the dogs.

  “But you do think I’m incompetent.” Her green eyes flashed. Glistening emeralds against the snowy white landscape.

  “Far from it.” He snorted. “I think you’re many things, but incompetent isn’t one of them.”

  “Silly, then?”

  “No, not silly, either.” He chose the first adjective that came to mind. “I was thinking more along the lines of brave.”

  “Brave?” She eyed him with skepticism. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  He shrugged. “Not bad, necessarily. Just…”

  Just what? Worrisome? Dangerous? Maddening?

  All of the above.

  She ignored his pause and her lips curved into a smile of obvious pleasure. “You seriously think I’m akiak?”

  “You’ve learned Inuit? Since this morning?” He wouldn’t put it past her. If anyone was up to such a challenge, it would be her.

  “Anya taught me.” Clementine laughed and nodded toward the woman behind her.

  Anya waved. “Hi, Ben.”

  “Anya.” Ben nodded in recognition.

  He’d known the barista a long time. Since before. Despite its grand size, Alaska was made up of small communities. He searched her face, wondering if she’d told Clementine anything about his past. Anya dropped her gaze to the dog at her feet and Ben exhaled a relieved sigh. That subtle gesture told him everything he needed to know. The accident was his story to tell. No one else’s.

  “And this—” Clementine continued as she gestured to the husky beside her “—is Akiak. Ben, meet Akiak. Akiak, Ben.”

  Ben offered a hand and Akiak plopped his paw in it.

  Ben dutifully shook the dog’s paw. “I suppose you taught this dog how to shake in between laps around the parking lot?”

  “Now you give me too much credit.” She lifted a gloved hand and swept the side of his face with her fingertip. “Your color is coming back.”

  Her delicate finger left a warm trail down the side of his face. “For the record, I didn’t exactly assume you were the one who was hurt. I feared it was you. It’s not quite the same thing.”

  “I suppose it’s not.” She removed her hand from his face and somehow Ben knew she would bring it to her throat.

  The gold chain with the cross was safely tucked inside her parka, but he knew the meaning behind her subconscious gesture.

  “I have issues with God.” The confession came flying out of his mouth before he could stop it. He looked around, a little too late, to make sure none of the other dog handlers were listening. Thankfully, everyone seemed much more interested in Clark and his broken wrist than the state of Ben’s soul. Even Anya had wandered toward the ambulance with her assigned dog in tow.

  Clementine didn’t say a word. She didn’t seem at all shocked or embarrassed, though. Her silence was a thoughtful one.

  Ben took a deep breath. He’d already put himself out there. In fact, he’d already been more honest with her than he had with anyone else. Perhaps even himself. “Clearly your faith is an important part of your life. We’re…friends. I thought you should know where I’m coming from.”

  “Where exactly are you coming from?” she asked in a gentle tone.

  “Anger.” He squeezed the hand-warmer packets in his pockets. “I guess you could say I’m angry with God.”

  She nodded. “Anger. I suppose that’s the root of all this paranoia?”

  “I’m not paranoid. I’m concerned for your safety. There’s a difference.”

  “You’re afraid.”

  Ben glared at her. So hard that she winced. Guilt pricked at the edges of his anger, and Ben almost wished she’d been wearing her pink slippers so she couldn’t run the opposite direction. He wouldn’t blame her a bit if she did.

  She didn’t run. She stayed right where she was, holding the dog’s harness and tapping her bunny boot–clad foot. “I suppose there’s never going to be a good time to tell you this, so I might as well do it now.”

  It was then that Ben realized the foot tapping wasn’t a sign of irritation. She was nervous about something. And that something—whatever it was—terrified Ben to the core.

  What on earth was she planning now? Ice climbing? Extreme snowmobiling?

  He frowned and ground out, “What is it?”

  The foot tapping ceased and she squared her shoulders. “Calm down.”

  “Clementine…” He exhaled a weary sigh.

  “My boss wants me to learn how to mush.”

  Ben’s blood boiled, hotter than a thousand hand-warmer packets.

  Before he could spit out one word of protest—and he had plenty of them at the ready—she held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t worry. Aidan Jackson has agreed to teach me.”

  Ben’s head whipped toward Aidan and back to Clementine, fast enough to give him whiplash. “What?”

  She dropped her gaze. With it, some of the sass dropped from her voice as well. “Aidan Jackson. He taught my dog handling class.”

  Ben snorted in frustration. “I know who he is.”

  Ben had covered him for the paper in the last race. He’d been a rookie. Little more than a boy. Ben didn’t have a problem with him. But to say he had a problem with Aidan teaching Clementine how to mush was an understatement. He didn’t want her anywhere near a pair of sled runners, no matter who was propping her up there.

  Clementine was either oblivious to Ben’s aggravation or chose to ignore it. Probably the latter. She struck him as the type of woman who stuck to her guns once her mind was
made up. “Aidan offered to take a group of the dog handlers out tomorrow and teach us how to mush a team. I think it sounds amazing. And besides, my boss told me to make it happen. So this works out nicely. I just thought you should know.”

  Ben shook his head.

  No, no, no.

  “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I don’t need your permission.” She jammed a mitten-clad hand on her hip.

  Ben knew if she weren’t attached to a gang line, via Akiak, she would have stomped off and left him standing there alone. He supposed he was grateful. Who knows where she would have gone…to hitch a ride on the Bering Sea with the crew of The Deadliest Catch? Somewhere of the sort, no doubt.

  He leveled his gaze at her until her emerald eyes softened.

  She posed a question to him. “Mushing is the state sport, isn’t it?”

  Not at all the question he’d anticipated. “Yes.”

  “I don’t know if Texas even has a state sport.” She scrunched her brow in apparent concentration.

  As frustrated as he was, Ben had the sudden urge to smooth her worry lines with his fingertips. “It’s rodeo.”

  “What?” Her eyes widened.

  “The state sport of Texas,” he mumbled. “It’s rodeo.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I sure am.”

  “How in the world do you know that, Know-It-All?” She gave him a playful shove with her free hand.

  “Know-It-All? Me?” He rolled his eyes. “This from the woman who professes to be an expert on the snowshoe hare.”

  She nudged him with her elbow. “If you ever come visit me in Texas, I’m sure you’ll want to learn how to rope a cow.”

  If you ever come visit me in Texas…

  She said it as though it were a real possibility. The thought of seeing her again was enough to douse the fire in his gut that had begun burning at the mention of her learning how to mush. Although he had no idea where the cow came into the picture. “What?”

  “Rodeo. The state sport of Texas. Remember?” A smile tipped her bow-shaped lips.

  He laughed, despite the seriousness of the situation. “Who’s going to teach me to rope a cow?”

  “I haven’t a clue.” She shrugged. “I’ve never even ridden a horse. I’m only adventurous in Alaska, like the salmon.”

  “The salmon?”

  “Wild Alaskan salmon. Emphasis on wild.”

  Ben dropped his head in his hands and groaned. “You’re trying to change the subject.”

  “Is it working?”

  “No.” He glowered at her. “Don’t think for a minute I’ve forgotten that you want Aidan Jackson to teach you how to mush a dog team.”

  She shrugged and her curls swished against her shoulders. “He’s teaching me. Tomorrow.”

  Ben wanted to scream in protest right there in the crowded parking lot. More than that, he wanted to cave and tell her he’d do it. He’d teach her how to mush himself. He still had the equipment, and if he worked late tonight he’d have the time. There was the obvious dilemma of a lack of dogs. Kodiak couldn’t exactly pull both of them by himself, but even that was a hollow excuse. Reggie had plenty of extra well-trained dogs over at his place.

  Even as the cold fingers of fear wrapped around his heart and his head told him he didn’t want to do it, couldn’t do it, he found himself nodding. “Come with me instead. I know someone who can teach you.”

  “What?” She peered up at him through a thick fringe of lashes. “Is this a trick? Are you going to drag me away somewhere to make foot lotion instead of learn how to mush?”

  He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “No foot lotion.”

  “You said foot lotion.” She flashed him a triumphant smile.

  “No, I didn’t.” He’d clearly said paw ointment, hadn’t he?

  “Yes, you did.”

  “Fine. No foot lotion.” He sighed. “I promise.”

  “It will be a real mushing lesson?” Her smile widened and the tip of her nose glowed bright pink from the cold.

  “Yes, a real lesson.” He stopped short of telling her that he would be her instructor, deciding he would deal with that later. He could barely wrap his mind around it himself. “I’ll let you get back to work here.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She wiggled her fingers in a wave that could only be described as flirty.

  The gesture brought a fresh ache to his chest. It was the physical manifestation of a punctuation mark, emphasizing precisely how much trouble he was in. He’d agreed to do the one thing he swore he’d never do again—for her.

  He took a few steps backward, reluctant to turn away from her.

  Just as he did, he heard her call out, “Perfect love casts out fear.”

  It sounded familiar, probably another Bible verse. He tried to push the sentiment from his thoughts as he walked away. Still, somewhere deep inside, he held on to her parting words. Long enough for him to get back to his room and look them up in the red book buried beneath his socks.

  * * *

  After a few hours of sitting in front of her laptop, emailing notes about her dog handling class to one of the staff writers at Nature World, the warmth finally returned to Clementine’s fingers. Now she understood all the stern warnings about dressing for warmth for the class. An afternoon spent outdoors in an Alaskan winter was enough to chill her to the bone.

  Her feet, however, had remained toasty warm. Thanks to the bunny boots. She hated to admit that Ben was right, but the shoes had been a brilliant idea. She would tell him as much tomorrow. The admission might be tough to get out, seeing as he so stubbornly acted as though he were right about everything. But Clementine was grateful to still have feeling in her toes, so she would swallow her pride and thank him.

  The thought of it was exhausting as well as humbling. Clementine yawned, searched out the clock in her tidy hotel room and realized it was nearly midnight.

  No wonder. She’d been so caught up in putting the excitement of the dog handling class into words that she’d completely lost track of time.

  She slipped her feet into the bunny boots again and snapped Nugget’s leash onto her collar. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s go outside one last time before bed.”

  Nugget stiffened and refused to take a step toward the door. Clementine gave her a gentle tug, but the Pomeranian braced her diminutive front legs and leaned in the opposite direction.

  Clementine reached into the pocket of her parka and removed Nugget’s tiny bunny slippers. She dangled one from the tip of her pointer finger. “Is this what you’re waiting for?”

  Nugget answered with a shrill yip and spun in a circle at the end of her leash.

  “Shh. You’re going to wake half the hotel.” She slipped the booties on Nugget’s little paws, one by one. “I wouldn’t forget your bunny boots.”

  With Nugget’s feet as warm and toasty as Clementine’s, the two of them made their way to the lobby. Clementine’s gaze drifted toward the coffee bar, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ben. Or perhaps Anya. But like the rest of the lobby, it was empty, save for the stuffed bison head, which someone had decorated with an official Gold Rush Trail baseball cap.

  The stab of disappointment she felt as she gazed at the lonely coffee bar worried Clementine almost as much as getting run over by a sled had worried her at dog handling class. In fact, she might even prefer getting run over by a sled to having her heart run over by another overly protective man. Toasty toes aside, Clementine wasn’t about to let Ben Grayson tell her what to do.

  A question nagged at her consciousness as she scooped Nugget into her arms and twirled through the revolving door out onto the sidewalk.

  If the idea of Ben being concerned for your safety is so abhorrent,
then why aren’t you going mushing with Aidan tomorrow?

  It was a question that had only one logical answer—she preferred to spend time with Ben. Even though he had looked physically ill when she told him she intended to learn how to mush, she was attracted to him. It was a fact she didn’t really want to accept but was having trouble denying. Even to herself.

  “Clementine.”

  A manly, rugged voice, his voice, drifted toward her through the darkness. The way it caused her insides to flutter only confirmed her suspicions. She was attracted to Ben.

  Most definitely.

  She turned and found him leaning against a lamppost. In the soft glow of its light, she could just make out his half smile. He looked happy and sad at the same time, which would have been a ridiculous way to describe anyone but him. He was a mystery of sorts. Angry one minute, and offering to help her learn how to mush the next.

  “Ben, hi.” She joined Ben in the tiny circle of light and unclipped Nugget’s leash so she could tiptoe into the snow with Kodiak. “You’re up late.”

  “It looks like we’re out here for the same reason you are.” He nodded toward the dogs. “I’ve been working. Sorting through photos, that sort of thing. So I can take some time off tomorrow for your mushing lesson.”

  “About that…thank you so much. I really appreciate it. And the bunny boots.” The flutter in her chest intensified and she was overcome with a sudden bashfulness she hadn’t felt around him before. “I mean, I know the mushing thing kind of goes against your nature.”

  His dimples flashed. “Against my nature?”

  “You know what I mean.” She struggled to find the right words. “You don’t necessarily like, or approve of, adventure.”

  “I see.” The corner of his mouth pulled up into a full-on smirk, just as it had when he’d taken her to the army surplus store.

  Clementine did her best to ignore it. A tall order, to be sure, considering how annoying she found that smirk. “So tell me about your friend.”