by Teri Wilson
He gave her an odd look. Even in the semi-darkness, his blue eyes glistened like ice. “My friend?”
“You said you knew someone who could teach me how to mush. Who is it?”
“That would be me.” He bowed. “Mr. Non-Adventurous, at your service.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, seriously, who is it?”
“I’m being serious. I’m going to teach you.” His wry smile told her he was enjoying the moment, but his eyes were solemn. Grave, even.
“You know how to mush?” She had to ask, but in that instant, she knew it was true.
He nodded, but his gaze shifted uneasily to the ground. “Yes, since I could barely walk. My father was a musher, and his father before him. At one time, it was almost as natural to me as breathing.”
His admission stunned her into silence. He could have turned into a polar bear before her very eyes and she wouldn’t have been any more surprised. Ben Grayson, the foot lotion peddler, was a third-generation musher?
She sneaked a glance at the wide set of his shoulders and the obvious muscles beneath his parka. He certainly looked like an athlete. And he shared such a close bond with his dog. She really should have known.
But it had never once crossed her mind. Not in her wildest imagination.
She eyed him with newfound curiosity. “Why haven’t you told me this before?”
“It’s not something I talk about.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not.” He gave her a warning look that told her the topic was closed for discussion.
Clementine honored his feelings on the subject and dropped it. But she couldn’t help but wonder how in the world he was going to take her mushing when he couldn’t even discuss it. “Are you sure about this?”
He exhaled a tortured sigh. “No. I haven’t been sure of much of anything since I met you.”
This answer satisfied Clementine in a way that made her cheeks warm. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“You should.” His tone grew soft and he leveled his gaze at her for a long, meaningful moment.
Then he whistled for Kodiak and stepped away from the lamppost and into the darkness.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she called out, before he disappeared entirely.
“Tomorrow.” There was an unmistakable smile in his voice. “For mushing.”
Chapter Seven
Clementine studied the menu at the coffee bar and bit her lip. She’d planned on getting a box of coffee to bring along on her mushing lesson with Ben. Apparently, wherever they were going was on the outskirts of Aurora. They had a drive ahead of them.
But the idea of plain coffee had suddenly lost its appeal.
Anya stood behind the counter and watched Clementine with amusement etched in her features. “Is there a problem?”
“Not exactly.” Clementine scrunched her brow and reread the name of the special of the day. Chocolate cherry latte. Seriously? How was she supposed to resist that? “Well, sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“I was hoping to get a box of coffee to go. But how I am supposed to order something plain and dreary like that when you’ve gone and invented something called a chocolate cherry latte?”
“That’s what got you all worried?” Anya leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper, as if she were letting Clementine in on some sort of secret. “If that’s your biggest problem, then you are one lucky girl.” She laughed.
Clementine forced a smile. “That’s right. Lucky me.”
It wasn’t her biggest problem. Not by a long shot.
She glanced at the revolving door that led to the parking lot. Any minute now, her biggest problem would be strolling inside, ready to take her mushing.
The line between friendship and something more with Ben Grayson had begun to blur before he told her that he was a musher. Clementine couldn’t put her finger on exactly when, but the sparks had definitely been there. The trouble now was that those sparks were becoming more difficult to ignore.
Ben wasn’t the cautious man she’d thought he was. He was a musher. Why did that suddenly make him all the more appealing?
“So what will it be?” Anya reached on the shelf behind her for one of the square cardboard boxes with a spout at the bottom that Clementine had seen her give other hotel guests who ordered large amounts of coffee to go. “Chocolate cherry lattes or a box of boring?”
“Well, when you put it like that…” Clementine laughed and the tension she’d been carrying in her shoulders eased somewhat. So she found Ben attractive? It didn’t have to mean anything. She wasn’t ready to trust a man with her affection. She’d tried that once, with disastrous consequences. Clementine wasn’t about to make that mistake again.
“You know there’s such a thing as compromise?” Anya drummed her fingers on the empty coffee box.
Clementine blinked. A compromise? That never worked. At least it hadn’t with Mark. “Pardon?”
“A compromise.” Anya opened the box and flipped the lever on the espresso machine. “I can make you a box of chocolate cherry-flavored coffee and throw in a generous amount of steamed milk. But I can’t give you the whip you seem to love so much. It would melt before you get wherever you’re going.”
A compromise—the coffee. Of course. “That sounds perfect.”
Anya went to work mixing together something delicious. At least Clementine assumed it was delicious, judging from the decadent aroma of cherries, milk chocolate and coffee beans wafting from behind the bar.
“Here you go.” Anya slid the box toward her. “Where are you off to anyway?”
“Ben Grayson is taking me on a mushing lesson,” Clementine said, loving the way it sounded. Loving it too much, she was afraid.
“Really?” Anya’s brows lifted in a look of surprise. “This is definitely a special occasion. I’m glad you picked the flavored coffee. A box of boring would definitely not do. You two have a great time.”
“Thanks.” Clementine clutched the box of coffee to her chest and smiled.
You two have a great time.
They were going off on an Alaskan adventure. How could they not? Clementine would forget about those pesky sparks, at least for now. Besides, dog mushing didn’t exactly sound like a romantic activity. Her heart would be safe. She was sure of it.
* * *
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Ben stole a glance at Clementine in the passenger seat and realized it was a ridiculous question. Excitement bounced off her in waves. She was a firecracker, ready to explode.
“Of course.” She looked over her shoulder, once again, at the empty backseat. “I wish you would tell me where the dogs are. And the sled, for that matter. Are we really going mushing? Or is this just an elaborate kidnapping to prevent me from going with Aidan’s group?”
“Kidnapping?” He pretended to consider the idea. “I hadn’t considered such drastic measures. I have to admit the thought carries great appeal.”
She frowned, or made a valiant effort to. Her joy was inextinguishable. “You’re taking me mushing. You promised.”
“Yes, I did.” God help him.
He’d spent the day getting everything in order. Moving the dogs, checking the sled, untangling the spiderweb of lines. His equipment was still in surprisingly good condition. Despite years of neglect, it was all good to go. The only thing he was lacking was the most important ingredient—a dog team.
Reggie had been more than accommodating in that regard. Ben was certain his friend must have been stunned to find him standing on his front porch first thing in the morning, asking to borrow a few second-string dogs. If he was shocked, he’d hidden it well. They’d walked the yard together, debating which of the huskies would be
best for a leisurely evening ride, as if such a thing was a common occurrence. As if Ben dropped by and borrowed dogs on a regular basis.
Despite Reggie’s nonchalance, by the time Ben had loaded five eager dogs into his truck and backed out of the driveway, his friend let out a whoop of joy that could be heard clear across the Lower Forty-Eight.
He would need to make things clear with Reggie when he returned the dogs. This was a one-time thing. He was taking Clementine mushing today, but it wasn’t the start of anything.
Anything at all.
He maneuvered the SUV around a curve, down a mountain road he’d traveled more times than he could count. Clementine kept her gaze glued to the scene in front of them. Frozen rivers, flanked on either side by snow-covered mountains, stretched as far as the eye could see.
“What are those?” She pointed to a series of tall poles on the side of the road.
“Avalanche markers. They’re used to locate the highway in the event of a slide.”
She peered at the wall of white through the windshield and gulped. “Does that happen often?”
Ben pointed to a dip between two mountains where a wide strip of snow cut a path toward the tree line. “See that area over there that looks like a ski slope?”
She squinted at it. “Yes.”
“That’s from an avalanche. It’s a couple of weeks old. The transportation department uses explosives to set off planned avalanches whenever there’s an excess of loose snow on the mountain.”
“Oh.” Her relief was palpable. “So we’re not going to get buried in a pile of snow any minute?”
“I don’t think so.” He smiled, reached across the front seat for her hand and covered it with his own. “You’re safe with me, Clementine.”
Even as he said the words, he wondered how long they would be true. First it was dog handling. Now mushing. He hated to think what she would want to do next. His mind told him not to make promises he couldn’t keep. He realized he spoke more out of his desire to protect her than from any sense of reality, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
Her hand felt small and delicate in his. He didn’t want to let it go.
“We’re here,” he said as they turned off the main road, down a path packed with hard snow.
The SUV crawled through a break in the evergreens until they reached a clearing. A cottage stood in the center with a red door and a stone chimney that reached toward the sky, which was beginning to glow amber in the twilight. Directly to the right, a cluster of red square boxes dotted the snow. Upon their arrival, several dogs poked their heads out of the snow-covered crimson doghouses. Kodiak sat atop his, as he’d always done back in their sledding days, watching over the yard. To Ben, his expression had always been reminiscent of a wise old owl.
Ben watched Clementine take in the scene with keen interest. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath, hoping for a favorable reaction until her eyes widened with wonder.
“I feel like I’m in a Christmas card. It’s so beautiful here, it doesn’t seem real.” She touched the car window with a gentle graze of her fingertips and whispered, “Where are we exactly?”
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d brought someone here. Who had it been? Reggie? Perhaps. It certainly hadn’t been a woman. “This is my home.”
“You live here?” Clementine climbed out of the car while Ben held the door open. She shook her head. “This is your house?”
He held her mittened hand so she could get her balance in the shin-deep snow. “Yep. My father built it with his own hands. I grew up here and now I live here alone.”
The word alone floated awkwardly between them. Ben had never thought himself lonely out here, with no one but Kodiak for company. But that was beginning to change.
“Where do your parents live now?”
“You’ll love this.” He gave her a wry grin. “Florida.”
“Florida?” She shook her head. “No way. They left all this for Florida?”
“About ten years ago. My dad founded a mushing team down there.”
She scrunched her brow. Clearly she thought he was pulling her leg. “How is that possible? It doesn’t snow in Florida.”
That’s what Ben had thought initially. He should have known his dad would find a way. Mushing ran in the Grayson blood, he’d always said. “Instead of sleds they use carts with wheels. The dogs run in the sand.”
“Incredible. Now that’s something I’d like to see.”
Maybe you will someday.
The idea blindsided him, and he dropped her hand before he did something ridiculous—like saying it out loud.
He’d never taken anyone home to meet his parents. Likewise, he’d never been the type to long for hearth and home. But being around Clementine was starting to awaken something in his soul. She made him want things that he’d given up on long ago.
Mushing was one thing. But romance was an entirely different matter. He’d spent four long years trying to get over the loss of his dog team. Deep down, he knew the wound he carried from their loss wasn’t any closer to being healed than it had been the day they’d disappeared under the ice. He couldn’t begin to imagine the pain of losing a loved one—a woman. A wife.
He wouldn’t be able to live through such grief. If his past had taught him anything, it was that he was better off alone.
“Thank you for this. For today, I mean.” Clementine bit her bottom lip, as Ben had noticed she always did when she was nervous.
What he hadn’t noticed was how pink it was. He tried to look away from it but couldn’t. “You’re welcome.”
“I know you don’t like to talk about it, and teaching me to mush wasn’t exactly on your agenda.” She peered up at him with her big green eyes. Looking at them was almost as bad as looking at her lips. He could lose himself in eyes like that if he wasn’t careful.
Things were getting too serious. He had to do something to lighten the mood. “Because I’m so boring and unadventurous.”
She laughed and looked into his eyes, as if she were trying to see inside of him. “What else are you hiding from me? Do you skydive?”
“No.”
“Are you a storm chaser?”
“No.”
“Do you like to swim with sharks?”
This one elicited a grin. “No, I prefer whales.”
“Oh, that’s right. This is Alaska. Whale country.” Her expression grew more serious. “Do you own a gun?”
“Yes.” He frowned. “As you just said, this is Alaska.”
“Bear insurance. Gotcha.” Her gaze flitted to the sled, waiting for them next to the dog yard. “Are you bringing it with us when we go mushing?”
Her line of questioning was beginning to unnerve him. “I told you—they’re hibernating.”
“There are plenty of other threats out there. What about moose? There could be a rogue mad moose in the woods somewhere.” She swept her arm toward the trees.
What he needed her to do was stop talking about things that could get her killed. Sooner rather than later. “Clementine, please.”
“Or caribou. What if Rudolph had a bad day and decided to take it out on some innocent people mushing through the woods?”
“Clementine,” he growled.
“I think you should teach me how to use it.” She smiled sweetly at him, as if she were suggesting he teach her how to make cupcakes instead of shooting a gun.
“Clementine, I’m going to get you to stop talking about this the best way I know how.” He let his gaze fall to her mouth as he pulled her toward him.
She let out a little squeal, and he took her hands and wrapped them around his neck. He cupped her face, tipped her chin toward his and paused. In that sweet moment of anticipation, he gave
her one last lingering look. “I’m going to kiss you now. Doesn’t that sound better than learning to shoot?”
She nodded wordlessly.
And he lowered his lips toward hers.
* * *
Ben’s kiss could only be described as glorious. His lips were surprisingly soft. And warm. And the way his fingertips caressed the side of Clementine’s face made her feel like an exquisite treasure.
When he sighed, and the kiss grew deeper, she dazzled. All the way down to her toes.
No man has ever made me feel this way before.
She felt as though he was offering himself to her, heart and soul. All of his emotions, all the hurt of his past and hope for the future, were wrapped up in that one blinding kiss.
As phenomenal as the kiss was, she never expected to see stars. Yet she did. Quite literally.
When Ben’s lips pulled away from hers, Clementine inhaled a joyous breath and opened her eyes—and there they were. Stars, glittering everywhere.
She blinked, convinced she was seeing things.
But the air was filled with shimmering bits of light. They formed a halo around Ben’s head. She squinted, trying to capture at least one of them with her gaze before it flickered and disappeared.
“Clementine, are you okay?” The expression on Ben’s face was an odd mix of concern and desire.
“Stars.” She reached for one, but it vanished before she could touch it. “You kissed me, and now I’m seeing stars.”
His mouth curved up into a smug grin, which would have normally irritated her to no end. Under the present circumstances, however, she could hardly blame him for being the tiniest bit proud of himself. It wasn’t every day that a man kissed a woman and she saw stars.
Nothing even remotely close to this had ever happened when she kissed Mark.
Ben’s gaze darted above her head and then farther to the left. His self-satisfied look morphed into one of amusement. “You’re not seeing stars.”
“Yes, I am.” She most definitely was. She almost wanted them to disappear so she could ask him to kiss her again.
