Alaska Heart

by Christine DePetrillo

  Inside the tavern, people sat at tables, crammed along the bar, and stood in pockets mingling, talking, enjoying themselves. A boy, about fourteen or fifteen, asked to take my coat. He handed me a ticket, but his eyes zeroed in on the V of my sweater. A pink flush washed across his adolescent cheeks. A successful test. This sweater had possibilities.

  I stuffed the ticket into my purse, pulled my hair over to spill across one shoulder, and stepped into the main room of the tavern. Waiters and waitresses fluttered amongst the groups of people, and although I didn’t know most of the patrons, something welcoming hung in the air. All the faces were smiling, all the glasses were filled, and the heavenly smell of Ram’s chicken wings permeated the air.

  A hand slid around my waist from behind. I craned my head.

  “Hiya, beautiful.” Dale rested his hand on my stomach, and the heat of his palm seeped through my sweater. He brushed his lips along my cheek. I hoped I wouldn’t leave a stain on the floor when I melted to a puddle at his feet.

  “Hi.” I managed to turn around in Dale’s hold, and he put his other arm around me. He pulled me in closer, found my lips with his, and gave me a heated kiss hello. For a moment, I forgot about all the other people in the tavern and focused solely on how it felt to be wrapped in Dale’s embrace.

  “I didn’t think this moment would ever come.” He stepped back a bit and looked at me.

  “Me neither.” I was already lost. The sage sweater he wore over his jeans deepened the color of his eyes, hypnotizing me.

  “Do you do that on purpose?” I asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Wear green so your eyes look unbelievable.” I couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to.

  “My mother used to dress me in green when I was a kid, and I think the affinity for the color stuck.” Dale shrugged with boyish charm. “I didn’t realize it made my eyes greener.”

  “It’s irresistible.”

  “This sweater,” he began as his gaze lingered a moment longer on the V above my breasts, “is irresistible and yet…” He bent his head so our foreheads touched. “I want you out of it. Naked. All mine.”

  I looked around the tavern. “We have a few hundred people to get rid of first.”

  “Damn.”

  “But when we do get rid of them…” I licked my lips, and Dale closed his eyes.

  He growled, the noise low and sensual. “Sometimes it sucks to be the guest of honor.” Dale caught my lips once more, this time quick and frustrated. It made me buzz inside to know he wanted me so much.

  “C’mon. My sister has been giving me the eye since I came over here. If I don’t introduce you to her soon, she’ll kill me.”

  He took my hand and weaved through the thick crowd. Several people clapped him on the back as he passed.

  “Such a celebrity,” I teased.

  “Save your compliments until we’re alone and naked,” he grumbled. “They do me no good now.” He squeezed my hand.

  We emerged from the crowd only to be bowled over by three small, identical boys. Two suctioned themselves to Dale’s legs, and one wrapped around mine. Dale reached down to pick up one of them. He let the boy dangle in front of him, while small legs kicked out wildly and high-pitched giggles echoed.

  “This one is…let me see.” Dale made a pretense of turning the boy over and around, upside down. “Ah, right. This one is Mick.” He plopped down Mick and picked up the boy holding onto his left leg. “This one is definitely Riley. That’s Noah down there, squeezing the life out of your leg. Say hi to Alanna, boys.”

  “Hi!” all three of them shouted at once.

  “Hi, boys. Aren’t you all adorable?”

  Three grins, all exactly the same, beamed back at me from identical, round faces. Deep brown eyes and neatly trimmed blonde hair made the boys indistinguishable to someone who didn’t already know them.

  “Dale,” I whispered, “how do you know who’s who?”

  “Uncle Dale has a system,” one of them said. I didn’t know which one he was.

  “A system?” I turned my eyes to Dale. “Do share. I’m lost over here.”

  “Mick’s got a freckle right here.” Dale pointed to a small brown speck on the boy’s chin. “Riley’s eyes are not as brown as his brothers’.” Dale made circles of his thumbs and index fingers and placed them around Riley’s eyes like a pair of glasses.

  Riley didn’t blink as I studied his eyes. They were more golden than the rich, chocolate color of his brothers. Mick and Riley ran back toward a man seated at the table a few feet in front of us.

  “And Noah here—” Dale poked the one still holding onto my leg in the ribs.

  When the boy giggled, a dimple like Dale’s cratered his left cheek.

  “Oh, I see. Noah is the handsome one.” I brushed my finger over the dimple, and Noah tightened his grip on my leg, flashing his dark eyes at me.

  “She’s nice, Uncle Dale,” Noah said.

  His sweet little face worked its magic on me.

  “Pretty too, huh?” Dale knelt to get eye level with his nephew.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Noah took my hand and tugged me toward his brothers and the man at the table. Dale took my other hand.

  “That’s it, you realize,” Dale whispered. “He’s going to fight me for you.”

  “Lucky for you, I like tall guys.”

  Dale laughed as we reached the table. The man seated there stood and shook Dale’s hand. Although shorter than Dale, he was as solidly built with a disheveled crop of blonde hair and trustworthy brown eyes.

  “Jake Hamill, this is Alanna Cormac from Gaia magazine. She’s here doing a piece on Denali. While I’m not monopolizing her time, that is.”

  Jake extended his hand. I tried to free my hand from Noah’s grip, but the boy had latched on tightly.

  “Sorry about him. He’s a sucker for a pretty gal. Noah, let Alanna’s hand go, okay, buddy?”

  Noah pouted and shook his head.

  “I told you,” Dale said. “I’m going to have to take him outside. Show him who’s boss.”

  I knelt and put my arms around Noah protectively. “You’ll do no such thing.” I gave Noah a squeeze. He snuggled close to me. The feel of his little body cuddled in my embrace stirred something inside me. I quickly buried the sensation before it got out of hand. I’d already lost control of too many emotions in Alaska.

  “Oh, he’s laying it on a bit thick,” Dale said. “Quit it, kid.” He tried to pry Noah loose.

  I shielded Noah from Dale. Noah’s giggles were like music, the sound so light and free.

  “You two fighting over a girl?” a female voice interrupted.

  “C’mon, Selia,” Dale whined. “You know it’s his fault.”

  “Sure, blame the five year old, Dale. Real mature.” Selia gave Dale a light shove, and he pretended to fall back. “You’re so dramatic.”

  “Me?” Dale put his hand to his forehead. He then cradled his braced wrist against his chest and made a face as if he were in agony. “How can you say such a thing when I’m hanging on by a thread here?”

  By this time, Noah had loosened his grip on me, and we were both chuckling heartily at Dale’s antics.

  “Goof.” Selia rolled her eyes and edged Noah’s hand from mine. Replacing her hand with her son’s, she said, “Hi. You must be Alanna. I’m Dale’s sister, Selia, but if I had a choice…”

  “If you had a choice, you’d pick me again as your brother,” Dale finished, catching Mick around the waist as the boy tried to run by. Mick squirmed and wiggled until Dale let him go.

  “Yeah, only because my children seem to like you.” Selia chuckled too.

  She had Dale’s coloring, but not his size. I had to look down a bit to meet Selia’s hazel eyes. The same chestnut colored hair framed her face in loose waves, and laugh lines like Ram’s and Dale’s edged her eyes.

  “Love your sweater,” she said. “Looks like Violet’s work.”

  “It is.”

  “Th
is one is too.” Selia motioned to the beige sweater she was wearing. Tribal-patterned beadwork rimmed the neckline.

  “It’s lovely,” I said.

  “Everything Violet makes is lovely.”

  “That’s what I like to hear,” another voice joined in.

  Violet’s purple hair was twisted into a long braid and tied with a silver scarf. The little black dress she wore could have been considered calm if it weren’t for the silver tights beneath it. Another pair of black boots, this time snaking up to her knees, finished off the look, along with huge silver hoops at her ears. Somehow, though, it all managed to work on her. Meg would love this girl.

  “Hey, Violet,” Dale said. “Nice job polishing Alanna.”

  “Hey!” I punched him in the bicep.

  “What? She ironed out your hard New York edges with that sweater and…those jeans.” His gaze combed down my legs as if he had just noticed the fit and cut of the denim. “Damn, Violet. I owe you.”

  Violet kissed Dale on the cheek. “No problem, love.”

  “Where’s Vince?” Dale looked around the tavern.

  “Your father’s got him back in the kitchen,” Violet said as she kissed Jake and Selia hello.

  “Uh-oh. I’d better go rescue him. C’mon, Alanna. I want you to meet Vince.”

  I started to follow Dale when a tug on my sweater stopped me.

  “Don’t go,” Noah said, his eyes super huge.

  Before I could answer, Dale reached down and hoisted Noah onto his shoulder. Noah screeched in delight and several patrons nearby commented on how cute the boy was.

  “C’mon, kid. Let’s see what Pop’s got in the kitchen that’s good for tying up little boys.”

  Noah squealed again and tried to worm his way free. “Help, Alanna!”

  “She can’t help you, Noah.” Lowering his voice, Dale said, “No one can.” He let out a maniacal howl, and Noah shook with laughter as I followed.

  Great with dogs. Great with kids. Was there no limit to this man’s charm?

  The honey-barbecued aroma that wafted from the kitchen intoxicated me. Jerry and a few other cooks were busy mass-producing chicken wings and other delectable delights. Dale sent Noah back to his mother as we pushed open the doors.

  “Dale.” Ram looked up from whatever he was showing the man standing next to him. He folded a paper and slipped it into the breast pocket of his white, button-down dress shirt.

  “Hey, Dad,” Dale said. Ram waved but scurried off to a small office at the back of the kitchen.

  The black spiked hair and tattooed arms on the man left standing alone could only belong to one person.

  “You must be Vince.” I stepped ahead of Dale.

  “Yeah.” Vince offered me a smile almost as potent as Dale’s. “How’d you know?”

  “I met Violet earlier today, and she described what you looked like.”

  “Vince Seymore, this is Alanna Cormac.” Dale rested his hands on my shoulders.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Vince shot a look to Dale.

  “Zip it, man,” Dale hissed.

  Vince’s lips turned up at the corners. “What did Vi say about me?”

  “Something about you being hot, but a different hot than Dale here,” I said.

  Both men laughed, the sound of it ringing with true camaraderie. “Yeah, Dale is so not Vi’s type. Too clean cut.”

  “I happen to like clean cut.” I scooped my arm around Dale’s waist.

  “Lucky for me.” Dale tapped his hip against mine.

  Vince whistled. “Oh, you two got it bad.”

  “Shut up. You’re not allowed to give me crap about this. I still catch you drooling all over Violet.”

  “Guilty as charged.” Vince held up his hands in surrender. “Purple hair drives me wild.” His eyebrows raised and lowered around hazy blue eyes.

  “She mentioned she did some of those tattoos.” I pointed to Vince’s arms. Though Vince appeared to be one of those classic “nice guys,” I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to check for wolf tattoos. In fact, any one of the guests in the tavern could be the killer. Nice thought.

  Vince pulled the sleeves of his black thermal shirt up past his elbows. He turned his left forearm out toward me. “Yeah, she’s got a talented eye for the details. She did this cobra here. Real work of art.”

  Not the branding of a serial killer?

  “Love the fangs,” I commented. Bright crimson drops of blood dripped from fangs that looked almost three-dimensional. Scary, but in an artistic way, not psychotic. Probably.

  “They’re my favorite too. Been trying to talk this kid into a couple tats, but he’s too much of a wimp.” Vince jabbed a fist into Dale’s bicep.

  “I’m not a wimp. I just don’t think you or Violet drawing on me is going to improve what’s already perfect,” Dale replied.

  “Humble, ain’t he?” Vince turned and stole a chicken wing off a nearby platter.

  “What was Dad saying to you before he ran off to hide?”

  “Oh, no. Don’t make me sing like a bird.” Vince licked sauce off his fingertip.

  “C’mon. What’s he got planned?”

  “Can’t say. Won’t say.” Vince finished off his chicken wing, wiped his hand on a napkin, and headed for the door. “I gotta find Vi.” He turned to me. “Alanna, glad you’re around. Dale here was turning into the male equivalent of an old spinster. He substituted a bunch of dogs for cats, but the story’s the same.”

  “Get out of here, man.” Dale cuffed Vince on the shoulder.

  “How long have you two been friends?” I asked after Vince left the kitchen.

  “Since he moved next door to my parents’ house when I was six. Moving truck pulled up. He jumped out of the cab. Instead of going to his new house, Vince stalked up my parents’ walkway and sat next to me on the front steps. ‘I’m Vince,’ he said. ‘I’m Dale,’ I said, and that was that.”

  “Boys have it so easy,” I said as Dale led me through the kitchen toward the little office. “Girls don’t connect that fast. We have to size each other up first, test it out, try on each other’s clothes and shoes.”

  “Sounds complicated.”

  “It is. My best friend though was like you and Vince. When I started at Gaia, Meg came into my cube and told me we were going to be friends.”

  “She told you?”

  “Yep. Meg’s a little…bold.” The best word I knew to describe her. She didn’t fade into the background. She didn’t take any shit. She didn’t loan out her shoes. You had to love her anyway.

  “She’s expecting you back in New York then, huh?” Dale stopped in front of the office door.

  “She’d come all the way over here to drag me back probably,” I said, meeting Dale’s gaze.

  He exhaled a long breath and knocked on the office door. I wanted to pull back on liking him so much, but it was damn near impossible. Dale had managed to unlock the closed doors inside of me. Now that they were open, I didn’t want them sealed.

  “Come in,” Ram hollered from the other side of the door.

  “Why exactly are you talking to Vince in secret and hiding from me in here?” Dale asked a guilty-looking Ram as soon as the door opened.

  Ram skirted around him to catch me in a bear hug. “Alanna. So good to see your pretty face around here again.”

  “Can’t keep me away from those chicken wings, Ram.” I kissed him on the cheek.

  “Dad,” Dale said again. “Look at me.”

  Ram stiffened next to me but turned to look at his son.

  “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing. Ironing out a few details for the award presentation. That’s all. Honest.” Ram looked at Dale with innocent eyes. “A father wants everything to be perfect for his famous son. Is that a crime?”

  “No, but I know you. You tend to overdo things.” Dale rested his hands on his hips.

  “Me? Aw, c’mon.”

  “He’s proud of you,” I said.

  “Yea
h,” Ram added.

  “Whose side are you on, Alanna?” Dale shot me a sideways glance as his eyebrow arched playfully.

  “I’m on the side of whichever one of you gets me a drink.”

  “Bye, Dad.” Dale ushered me out of the office.

  “Stay close,” Ram called. “Chicken wings are on the way.”

  ****

  Sangria in hand, Dale led me back to the table where his sister’s family was seated. The boys were elbow deep in wings, barbecue sauce painted across each of their faces and all of their fingers.

  “Sit here, Alanna. Please?” Noah looked at the seat between him and one of his brothers.

  “Excuse me,” I said to Dale. “I’ve got an invitation to sit with that handsome boy over there.”

  Dale shot Noah a glare and plopped his braced fist into his other hand as if he were warming up to give the kid a beating. Noah giggled and rested his head on my arm when I sat beside him.

  “You wait, Noah.” Dale took a seat across from me. “When you least expect it…” He held up a fist again, which lost its impact due to his dimples.

  “Stop threatening my children,” Selia said as she breezed by and sat next to her husband.

  “Yeah,” Jake chimed in. “That’s my job. Although, Selia, I have to say Noah is asking for it.”

  “Finally.” Dale threw up his hands. “Someone who sees what the little rat is doing.”

  “Don’t worry, Dale,” I said. “There’s enough of me to go around.”

  “Dale’s always had a problem with sharing.” Selia patted her brother’s hand on the table. “He’s the baby, you know.”

  He grinned at me from across the table as he picked up his beer. Mick hopped from his seat and climbed into Dale’s lap.

  “Where’s Gypsy, Uncle Dale?” Mick said.

  “She’s keeping watch on all the other dogs at home. Why? Do you miss her?”

  All three boys yelled a hearty, “Yeah!”

  “I’ll let her know.”

  “Can you bring her over on Sunday?” Riley asked.

  “By the way,” Selia began, “do you want to come for dinner on Sunday?” She gave Riley a stern look.