by Teri Wilson
Clementine reached across the counter and rested her hand on Anya’s. “Dolce’s lucky to have you. You know that, right?”
“I’m the lucky one.” Anya firmly believed it. She didn’t know what she would do without the dog. And her attachment had grown even stronger since Dolce appeared to be coming around.
“Well, I couldn’t be happier things are working out.” Clementine took a generous sip of her mocha. “When will I ever get to meet the dog genius?”
“He keeps to himself a lot.” Anya tried to remember when she’d seen him out and about. Aside from their training sessions and his occasional visit for coffee, not at all.
She wondered why that was. Brock’s dogs apparently weren’t the only ones who needed socializing.
“He’s going to the Reindeer Run tomorrow, isn’t he?” Clementine asked as if it were a foregone conclusion.
“I don’t know. He mentioned it the other day, so maybe.”
“Maybe?”
Anya couldn’t help but laugh at the look of shock on Clementine’s face. “Believe it or not, running through the street with a bunch of loose, antlered animals isn’t on everyone’s bucket list.”
“Of course it is. This is Alaska.” Clementine shrugged. “You’re still going, right?”
“Oh, I’ll be there watching from the sidelines. I wouldn’t miss it.” Anya crossed her arms and narrowed her gaze at her friend. “Tell me, does your husband know you’re planning on running in this thing?”
Clementine laughed. “Ben is well aware. He’s not crazy about the idea, but he knows better than to try to come between me and a bunch of reindeer. He’s running with me. You should join us. We could form a team.”
Anya shook her head. Poor Ben. Clementine’s adventurous streak had a tendency to bring out his protective nature. Anya wasn’t about to put herself in the middle of a marital squabble, no matter how happy the two of them clearly were. “That’s okay. I’ll sit this one out and take photos of you and Ben getting trampled.”
“That might make a good Christmas card picture.” Clementine winked and slid her empty coffee cup across the bar. She gathered her handbag and waved as she turned to go. “See you tomorrow.”
Anya waved back. “Tomorrow.”
Before Clementine had disappeared from view, Anya’s thoughts turned once again to Brock. Would he be there tomorrow too? She hoped so. Not because she was anxious to see him again. Of course not. She just had a feeling he’d give those reindeer a run for their money.
* * *
“So, what do you think? Are you up for a run this morning?” Brock asked.
Aspen cocked his head but made no move to spring to his feet. The pup remained sprawled on his belly on the braided rug that Brock had finally unearthed from inside one of the cardboard boxes and tossed on the floor. Aspen and Sherlock had immediately become engaged in a turf war over the shabby thing, which Brock had picked up a few years ago at a street market in Italy. Or was it Austria? He wasn’t sure. After a while, all the places seemed to run together.
He shoved his feet in his running shoes and frowned. For some odd reason, he’d been unable to get anyone to give him a straight answer as to the distance of the Reindeer Run. The whole town appeared to be getting geared up for the event, so he doubted the route would be more than a 5K. Still, the idea of tromping through three miles of shin-deep snow in a pair of Nikes was unappealing at best. He abandoned the running shoes in favor of a worn pair of hiking boots and zipped into his ski patrol parka.
“Sherlock, come on, boy.” Brock gave Sherlock’s leash a shake, rattling the metal end with a jingle. The pup came bounding from the hallway and slid to a stop at Brock’s feet.
Aspen released a half-hearted attempt at a whine.
“Faker,” Brock muttered. “I don’t feel guilty in the slightest about leaving you behind. I’m sure I’ll hear you snoring before the door shuts behind me.”
Aspen sighed and rolled onto his back in the center of the braided rug. Brock shook his head and let out a laugh as he ushered Sherlock outside.
He then heaved Sherlock onto his shoulders.
Brock considered every minute of every day a training opportunity. The Reindeer Run was no exception. No doubt the streets of downtown Aurora would be crowded with people. He wasn’t about to waste such an opportunity to further socialize the more timid of the two dogs. Besides, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to the event. Team building...that’s how Cole had referred to it.
Brock wasn’t interested in being on anyone’s team.
That kind of mentality would only make it harder to walk away once the program on the ski mountain was put into place. And things around Aurora were already growing a bit thorny—the biggest thorn being Anya Petrova.
Since that night at her apartment, Brock had decided to put some distance between them. He didn’t go around holding hands with the guys at the ski patrol, and the way he saw it, he had no business holding hands with Anya...no matter how nice the feel of her skin against his had been.
Now he’d gone and blown it by asking her if she’d be interested in helping him train the pups up on the mountain.
What had that been about?
He could have enlisted help from any of the other guys on the patrol. Granted, they didn’t seem to have the same rapport with the dogs as Anya did, particularly with Sherlock. And she seemed so enthusiastic about helping people. She would have been the natural choice, if only looking straight into those captivating eyes of hers didn’t make his head spin.
Brock told himself he was making too much of the whole thing as he headed downtown with Sherlock still draped over his shoulders. Anya would be a great helper. And it wasn’t as though he’d be able to hold her hand while she was zooming out of sight on a snowmobile or hiding in a snow hole, waiting for the dogs to find her. She’d be tucked safely out of arm’s reach, where he couldn’t touch her. Or kiss her.
Not that he’d thought about kissing her.
Much.
Brock blew out a frustrated sigh as he rounded the corner onto Third Street. He heard a swell of music, and up ahead he caught a glimpse of what looked like a group of giant carrots—with legs—running through the streets.
What?
He squinted at a straggling carrot that appeared to be laboring to catch up with the others. Brock slowed to a stop. As he was trying to process the scene, someone zipped past him. Not a vegetable this time. A person. A person with a sign on his back that read Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.
“Clearly, this is no ordinary 5K,” he muttered to himself.
“Brock Parker,” an amused voice called from behind him. “Leave it to you to stand out, even in a crowd of crazy Alaskans.”
Anya.
Of course. He would have known that honeyed voice anywhere.
Brock turned around and found her standing with her arms crossed and a look of pure bemusement in her eyes. “Are you aware that you have a rather large dog slung over your shoulders?”
Sherlock’s tail beat against the back of Brock’s head. He frowned. She’d charmed his dog. How much longer until she charmed him too? “It’s a...”
She held up a graceful hand, cutting him off. “Don’t tell me...let me guess...it’s a training exercise.”
“It is a training exercise.” He shifted his weight and reached up to steady Sherlock, who was wagging to such an extent, Brock was worried he might attempt a flying leap at Anya. “If we have to ski to an avalanche site on the mountain, it’s best to carry the dogs like this. Skis and poles can hurt paws if the dogs run too close alongside. Plus, if they’re carried they can preserve their energy for the search site.”
Anya nodded slowly, taking in his words. “I guess it’s just a bonus that it makes you look like a nut.”
She was teasing him as usua
l. Brock wasn’t accustomed to being teased. He was surprised to realize he didn’t altogether hate it. In fact, he bordered on liking it.
He lifted Sherlock from his shoulders and set him on the snowy pavement. The dog wiggled over to Anya, and she gave him a good scratch behind his ears.
Another carrot trotted past them, waving this time.
“Hey, Anya,” said the carrot.
She straightened. “Hi, Zoey. Be careful out there.”
“Will do.” Zoey the carrot jogged ahead of them.
Brock thought she looked vaguely familiar. Minus the carrot costume.
He huffed out a breath. It came out in a cloud of vapor and hung suspended in the frigid arctic air. “I think someone forgot to send me the memo.”
“The memo?” she asked.
“The one about dressing as a vegetable.” He lifted an eyebrow at a pair of teenagers walking by with black-and-white cardboard bull’s-eyes fastened to their parkas. “Or a target of some sort?”
A look of confusion crossed Anya’s delicate features for a moment until a mischievous smile took its place. “No one told you?”
“Told me what?”
Her smile widened, and she bounced on her toes. Something told Brock the gesture wasn’t an effort to keep warm. Anya looked gleeful to the point of bursting. “No one told you about your running buddies? Oh, look. Here they come now.”
Brock followed the direction of her gaze and was forced to do a double take. Rounding the corner was a herd of caribou, each animal tethered to a human handler by a lead and bridle. And each was sporting a most impressive—and rather pointy—rack of antlers.
Brock gulped. “My running buddies?”
Chapter Nine
Anya tried not to laugh at the look of horror on Brock’s face. She really did. But he looked so uncharacteristically rattled, she just couldn’t help it.
She laughed. Hard.
And the harder she laughed, the more Brock glared at her. “This is funny? The fact that I’ve unwittingly signed up to run around with a bunch of antlered wild animals?”
Anya struggled to regain her composure. Not an easy task. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a few innocent reindeer? You, the big hero?”
“That’s more than a few. Look over there. I see at least two dozen.” He pointed at the end of the road, where the caribou were gathered in a tight cluster waiting for the start of the Reindeer Run. “What is this event? The Running of the Bulls, only Alaska style?”
“Yep.” Anya nodded, feeling a tad guilty even as she grinned. She was getting more enjoyment out of this whole ordeal than she really should have.
Brock paled a bit. “Why didn’t anyone tell me about this? All this talk about the Reindeer Run, and no one bothered to explain exactly what it is.”
Anya had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing again. “That’s easy. There’s a good reason no one mentioned it to you.”
“And what might that be?”
Anya shrugged. “You’re a hermit.”
Sherlock yipped. Anya was fairly certain it was a reaction to the caribou, but the timing was such that it sounded oddly like a yip of agreement.
Brock frowned at the dog and then at Anya. “A hermit? Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?”
She shrugged again. “I never see you out and about. You haven’t made any friends since you’ve been here. Other than me, I mean.”
Her face grew hot all of a sudden. She busied herself with pulling her mittens on tighter so Brock wouldn’t notice the flush she was sure was settling in her cheeks.
“Well, there’s a good reason for that,” he said in a measured voice, as though she should know precisely what he meant.
She met his gaze. “What...?”
Before she could get the question out, Brock threw up his hands at a few more carrots sauntering down the snowy sidewalk. “I have to ask—why the carrot costumes?”
“Oh, that’s simple. People really get into this, and reindeer love carrots. You’ll see all sorts of costumes once you get closer to the starting line. That’s why I thought you’d get a kick out of this, given your penchant for crazy get-ups.” She swept him up and down with her gaze. “Look at you. You look almost ordinary. If you hadn’t been carrying Sherlock on your shoulders, I might have mistaken you for a normal person.”
It wasn’t altogether true. Brock Parker was hardly ordinary-looking. Even as flustered as he currently was, his piercing blue eyes were so intense they could melt a glacier.
She gulped.
“It’s not a penchant. It’s training. Specifically, socialization.” The same old refrain, but this time a smile tipped his lips as he said it.
“Hey, there you are.” Cole Weston, wearing a red ski patrol parka identical to Brock’s, approached them. His eyes lit up when he spotted Anya standing beside Brock. “Anya, good morning. Brock here tells me you’re going to keep giving us a hand with training the dogs on site.”
“Yes.” She nodded and rose on her toes, buoyed by thoughts of making a real contribution. “I’m really looking forward to it.”
“According to Brock, we’re lucky to have your help. He says you have a real knack for the work.” Cole glanced at Brock, whose expression was unreadable.
Had he really said that about her?
Interesting.
Training was scheduled to resume on Wednesday. Anya had it marked on her calendar in red ink.
Cole turned his attention to Brock. “Come join us at the start line.”
“Sure. I’ll be right there,” Brock said.
“See you in a few.” Cole headed down the block toward the quickly growing crowd of runners.
The event was rapidly taking on the atmosphere of a big street party. The participants had started bouncing a colorfully striped beach ball overhead. Every now and then a snowball would whiz past.
Anya watched it all, trying to see it through Brock’s eyes. What must he think of Aurora? A swell of hometown pride rose up inside her. Brock had been to all sorts of exotic places, but she was sure he’d never seen anything like this.
He took a step closer, sending Anya’s heart into rebellious overdrive.
“Would you mind keeping an eye on Sherlock for me during the race? I wasn’t expecting...this.” He grinned, clearly at a loss for words, and removed a leather leash from the pocket of his parka. “I’m fairly certain he’s never seen a giant carrot before today.”
“Of course I’ll watch him.” She took the leash from Brock and snapped it on Sherlock’s collar. The dog swiveled his cute, foxlike head and watched her every move. “It’s good socialization at least,” she added, only half-joking.
“That it is.” Brock lingered for a moment.
Was Anya imagining things? Or did his hesitation to walk away seem to have little to do with the herd of reindeer awaiting him?
“Be careful out there,” she said, wishing she could be around him without experiencing this unwanted feeling of wistfulness. Not only was it distracting, it also was downright annoying. “See you at the finish line. If you survive, that is.”
And before he could respond, she turned to go, if only to prove to herself she was fully capable of walking away from Brock Parker.
* * *
As Brock waited with the other ski patrol members for the start of the race, he couldn’t help but shake his head in wonder. Aurora was turning out to be full of surprises. Running with actual reindeer? He had to admit he’d never heard of that one before. Now that he’d had a moment to digest the idea, it sounded like fun. Crazy, but fun.
“Runners, are you ready?” a voice boomed from the loudspeakers mounted at each street corner.
A collective roar of affirmation rose from the crowd. In addition to the carrots, a numb
er of other costumed runners had appeared—the abominable snowman from that old Rudolph movie, a few folks with moose antlers affixed to their hats and, inexplicably, a group dressed as the cast of Star Trek.
The loudspeaker crackled to life again. “We’re going to start the countdown in a moment. As always, we’ll give the humans a ten-second head start.”
Brock turned to Cole. “Why a head start?”
“The reindeer are very fast.” Cole laughed. “There’s a trophy for the first runner to cross the finish line, but beating the reindeer isn’t in the realm of possibility, even with the head start.”
“Really?” Brock glanced at the animals huddled together near the start line.
They were larger than other species of deer Brock had seen before. And he knew that reindeer were special in that both the males and females had antlers. But he hadn’t heard anything before about them being particularly agile. Then again, he’d never considered racing one of them before.
“Ten...nine...eight...” The countdown began, and Brock’s fellow racers joined in. Soon everyone around him was shouting along. “Four...three...two...one.”
“Here we go,” Cole said and started running.
Brock wasn’t sure if the plan was for the entire ski patrol to stick together for the duration of the race, or to make a go at winning the trophy. When Cole zipped past him, followed by a determined-looking Jackson, Brock figured the unit was gunning for the win. He picked up the pace just as the announcer called for the release of the reindeer.
The remainder of the event was a blur. Once the caribou became part of the action, chaos ruled. Cole hadn’t been kidding. The animals were ridiculously fast. Fortunately, they were also adept at avoiding the runners. In the beginning, Brock concentrated on running as fast as he could. When he realized outrunning them was indeed hopeless, he switched his strategy to keeping an eye out for antlers over his shoulder. But every time a reindeer came into his peripheral vision, it rocketed past him before he could even formulate a plan to get out of its way.
