by Teri Wilson
She looked up from spreading peanut butter on a quartet of bread slices lined up on the counter. “Please tell me you’re the one who organized my dresser drawers. I don’t think I could look the youth pastor in the eye if I knew he’d been folding my socks.”
“I could tell you that, but I’d be lying.” Anya reached for the jar of plum jam and twisted the lid open.
“Seriously?” Zoey groaned.
She was grateful for the help. She really was. But it wasn’t as though she had so many things that she couldn’t have handled the move on her own. Her apartment at the Northern Lights Inn had been furnished. She had a few knickknacks that had belonged to her parents that were obviously precious to her, along with her clothes, which were fairly bulky, this being Alaska. An easy move, as far as moves went.
“Relax. Clementine handled your socks. She and I took charge of your bedroom.” Anya slid the jam across the counter toward her, along with a clean knife. “A freakishly large number of your socks are red, by the way.”
Zoey cut her a look.
“Sorry.” Anya shrugged. “I couldn’t help but notice.”
“I like red.”
“Then you’ve landed in the right place—a reindeer farm. It will be like Christmas year-round.” Anya glanced out the window over the sink.
Zoey followed her gaze. Three of the reindeer were chasing one another through the pasture, zipping from one end of the fence to the other. All three sported large racks of antlers, which meant they were females, Zoey noted. She knew that much now, thanks to Alec.
Without even thinking about it, she scanned the horizon for a glimpse of her broad-shouldered, temperamental employee. And came up empty.
The way he kept disappearing on her was annoying. And the fact that it annoyed her only annoyed her further. She twisted the lid back on the jar of peanut butter with a bit too much force.
“Look at that. They’re goading one another,” Anya said.
Goading one another?
Oh, yes...the reindeer. Zoey redirected her thoughts away from Alec and back toward her thirty-one newest friends. The majority of them were now up and running in an enthusiastic game of chase. The few that hadn’t joined in the game were busy tossing hay around with their antlers, dotting the pristine canvas of snow with flecks of green.
The whole scene was awfully charming, even if it was all too easy for Zoey to picture the green they flung about as dollar bills instead of hay. “I talked to Alec this morning about the money I owe him,” she said absently, her financial worries never far away.
Anya’s eyes grew wide. “And?”
“And he agreed to give me until Christmas to pay him back.”
“That’s great.” Anya grinned, leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed her feet at the ankles. “So he’s not quite as tough as he looks. I knew it.”
“Knew what, exactly?” Eager for a distraction from the topic of conversation, Zoey went back to work assembling the sandwiches.
“I knew he’d be reasonable.”
That makes one of us. “Now I just have to convince the FAA to wait for their money, as well.”
“I’m sure Chuck can put in a good word for you.”
“I might have used up all my goodwill with Chuck. I’ve called him a few times already today and keep getting his voice mail.” Zoey gnawed on her lip. If she could get rid of this houseful of people, she could head over to the airport and deal with the FAA fine.
Good grief, what was happening to her? She was blessed with an abundance of people who wanted to come to her aid. She would feed them and socialize, like a normal, decent person. The FAA and its hefty fine would still be there tomorrow.
Unfortunately.
“Forgive me, Lord,” she murmured under her breath. Then for good measure, she added an extra dollop of peanut butter to one of the sandwiches.
“Everything is going to work out.” Anya waved a hand in the direction of the living room, where five people were unpacking a single box of books and adding them to the shelves that lined the walls of the log cabin. “You have so many people who want to help you. Let them.”
“What are you suggesting? That I go in there and pass around a collection plate?” The idea was beyond mortifying. And it would never happen. Never ever.
To Zoey’s horror, Anya’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “That’s a really good idea.”
She couldn’t be serious.
The blood drained from Zoey’s face, and she was forced to lean against the counter for support. “I would rather die. Anya Parker, don’t you dare go in there and ask anyone for money on my behalf.”
Anya held up her hands in surrender. “Just hear me out. I’m not suggesting a collection plate. Obviously, that’s a little extreme. But maybe you could put donation stations around town. Mason jars or something. With cute little signs that say Save the Reindeer. That’s what this is about, right? Saving the reindeer?”
Zoey gave a slow nod. “Save the reindeer. I like it.”
Save the reindeer.
Save her airplane.
And save her sanity.
“Excellent! We can get to work on it right away.”
“Get to work on what?” Brock wandered into the kitchen, and his gaze zeroed in on the sandwiches at once.
“Here,” Zoey said, handing him one. “Your wife is concocting a plan. I’m beginning to think she might be an evil genius.”
“I could have told you that a long time ago.” He winked at Anya and took a bite of PB and J.
“Hey.” Anya nudged Brock with her hip. “I’ll accept the genius label. But evil? I think not.”
He leaned toward Anya and gave her what had to be a peanut-buttery smack on the lips. “We’re just teasing you, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
It sounded a lot nicer coming from Brock’s mouth than it did from Alec’s. But the memory of it caused Zoey’s cheeks to flare with warmth anyway.
Anya wrapped her arms around Brock in a bear hug. They were sweet together. They always had been. But sometimes, lately, being around them made Zoey’s heart ache.
She looked elsewhere, focusing intently on the jar of peanut butter. She wondered idly if reindeer liked peanut butter. And if so, did they prefer crunchy or smooth?
Reindeer and peanut butter? I’m losing it for sure.
“Where have you been, Brock? I feel like I haven’t seen you for hours,” Anya said.
“I was out in the barn chatting with Alec.”
“Oh?” Zoey asked, her head snapping to attention quicker than she could stop it.
Her cheeks blazed, and she prayed neither Brock nor Anya had noticed her sudden change in demeanor.
“You find that interesting, Zoey?” Brock asked.
Anya observed their exchange with keen curiosity.
“No. Not particularly,” Zoey answered, struggling to keep her hands steady as she cut the sandwiches in half. “My concern is for the reindeer.”
Aurora was a small town. The last thing she needed was for word to get around that she harbored a secret crush on her ranch hand. Because she didn’t. She just wondered what Brock and Alec would have to talk about. That was all.
Alec was nothing like anyone Zoey had ever known. He was a far cry from the solicitous—if sometimes nosy—people of Aurora. He was cynical, aloof and blunt to a fault. And she knew nothing of his past—where he came from, how he’d ended up in Alaska. She’d been acting as though he were an actual superhero when, in fact, he could be just the opposite. So what if those blue eyes of his sent her head reeling? And so what if, every now and then, he was kind and generous when she least expected it?
She’d done just fine on her own all these years. And now she had a pasture full of new buddies to keep her company. She needed a man in he
r life like she needed to inherit another herd of wild animals. Least of all a man like Alec Wynn.
The idea was laughable....
So why wasn’t she laughing?
Chapter Six
Zoey felt like an impostor as she looked around the inside of her new home.
Her friends had all gone home hours ago. A fire burned in the hearth, and its amber flames cast dancing shadows on the knotty-pine walls of the cozy living room. The house was a traditional log cabin, built by Gus himself years ago, according to what the lawyer had told her. The furniture was simple—a red checkered sofa, broad teak coffee table and worn braided rug. The walls were mostly bare, which showcased the warm, one-of-a-kind quality of the wood. And it was lovely in its rustic simplicity. Strong. Humble. Charming.
Just like Gus.
Zoey’s throat grew thick. She didn’t deserve this. She wasn’t Gus’s family. Wasn’t there someone else out there who should be here instead?
She ran her fingertips along one of the bookshelves that flanked the fireplace. It was crammed full. She recognized a few aviation books that Gus had loaned her at one time or another, but there wasn’t a single picture frame. No photos of family or friends. Just books.
This was all he had. The cabin, the reindeer. Even his plane hadn’t really belonged to him. He’d leased it. He had nothing but the farm. And now it was hers.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Please, Lord. Help me find a way to take care of all this. For Gus.
She inhaled a ragged breath. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to grieve. Not again. Not ever again.
She needed to get busy. To do something. Maybe she could find some mason jars in the kitchen and get to work on the Save the Reindeer campaign. Or better yet, check on the reindeer. She wouldn’t have any idea what exactly she was checking for, but it would keep her mind off Gus.
She slipped on her parka and paused on her way out the door, wondering if she would run into Alec outside. She hadn’t seen him in hours, since before the church group had arrived to help with the move. Once again, she’d been thrust into the role of the helpless orphan.
She chastised herself. It really wasn’t fair to look at it that way. But having everyone pitch in on her behalf made her feel like a victim. As she had in the early days after the deaths of her parents—lost. And she hated feeling that way.
She pushed such thoughts from her mind and strode to the kitchen with purposeful steps then grabbed a few of the leftover sandwiches and wrapped them in a paper towel. She’d never eat them all herself, so she might as well share them with Alec. If he was around.
She glanced out the small window over the sink. His motorcycle was parked at a jaunty angle behind the barn. The seat and handlebars were covered with snow, but here and there she caught a glimpse of chrome glinting in the moonlight.
He’s here somewhere, she mused. Good. Not that she had any particular desire to see him; she just didn’t like the thought of him riding around on that thing in the dark. It seemed unduly dangerous in snowy conditions. Something bad could happen.
No more grieving.
For some mysterious reason, her heart clenched.
She hardly knew Alec. Why was she worried about his safety?
Because without him, you really would be lost these days. It was an unpleasant yet undeniable truth.
Zoey tried not to think about how much she really did need him as she shrugged into her parka. She tucked her hands into a pair of mittens, grabbed the sandwiches and headed outside.
The temperature had dropped quite a bit since she’d bid goodbye to the last of her helpers. Icicles dripped from the edge of the rooftop and snow swallowed her footsteps as she made her way to the fence. A shiver ran through her. But she forgot the weather as soon as she caught sight of the herd in the distance.
The reindeer were gathered together near the base of the mountain, dots of dark purple against the lavender hue of the snowy nighttime landscape. Most were lying down with their legs tucked beneath them, but a few stood, leaning into the wind. Snow swirled around them, and a gray cloud of vapor hung suspended over their heads, hiding the tips of their antlers.
Goose bumps prickled the back of Zoey’s neck. She shuddered, but not from the cold.
“They really are a sight to behold,” she whispered.
“Trouble sleeping?” Alec’s voice was a low rumble as he sauntered up beside her.
“Oh.” She turned toward him, her heart thumping hard in her chest. “Hi. You scared me. Again.”
He angled his head toward her. “You’re not accustomed to having someone around.”
It was a statement, not a question. And it was said with the assurance of someone who knew her well, which Alec obviously didn’t. Couldn’t.
“I guess I’m not.” She dropped her gaze to the snow collecting on the fence post. Alec had a way of looking at her that made her feel transparent, and standing beside him in the darkness only exacerbated the sensation.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
“Don’t be.” She cleared her throat and forced herself to look him in the eyes. Why was she suddenly feeling so flustered? Hadn’t she come out here looking for him? “I was actually hoping to run into you. I just got distracted.”
He nodded toward the reindeer. “I can’t blame you. They make a pretty picture at night, don’t they?”
“Gorgeous.” She glanced at the reindeer. More goose bumps. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought she and Alec had stepped into a Christmas movie.
Visions of mistletoe danced in Zoey’s head. Her throat grew thick.
“You okay?” Alec gave her a sideways glance.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” She shrugged and feigned nonchalance.
Mistletoe? Where had that come from?
He narrowed his gaze. “You said you were looking for me. Any particular reason?”
“I never said I was looking for you.” She shook her head with a little too much vigor. “I said I was hoping to run into you. There’s a difference.”
“Is there, now?” The corner of his mouth lifted. Was that a smirk?
Yes. Yes, it was. Zoey wanted to dive into the nearest snowdrift.
“Here.” She shoved the sandwiches at him, her hand colliding with a wall of firm, masculine chest.
He took the paper-towel-wrapped package and eyed it with suspicion. “What’s this?”
“Sandwiches.” Her cheeks—numb from the cold only moments before—burned.
He turned the bundle over, examining it. “That’s awfully nice. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Why did she feel so awkward all of a sudden? She hadn’t felt this self-conscious when she was handing them out to half the town earlier. “I mean, it’s nothing, really. They’re left over from this afternoon. And I thought you might be hungry.”
Not to mention the fact that she was indebted to him. Literally.
“Earlier. Right.” His gaze met hers and once again she felt exposed...vulnerable, for some odd reason.
She turned back toward the reindeer. “So, where do they sleep?”
Alec shrugged. “Right here.”
“They’re not too cold?” She glanced behind her. “What about the barn? Shouldn’t we tuck them in there, away from the elements?”
“The barn is for the summertime, to keep them out of the heat. They do best in the cold. Their bodies are built for it. They can even lower the temperature in their legs to just above freezing, so they don’t lose body heat.”
Zoey shook her head. “How do you know all this?”
“Easy. Google.” His lips curved into another of his rare smiles. “Don’t worry. You’ll catch on. Before I came here, I didn’t know much about them, either.”
She started
to ask him what he’d done with himself when he lived in Washington, but before she could, he changed the subject.
“How did the move go?”
“Fine. What happened to you? You disappeared once everyone showed up.”
His gaze drifted to the barn. “I was busy.”
“Busy hiding from social interaction?” She lifted a brow. Surely he didn’t think she hadn’t noticed that he bordered on antisocial.
“Jealous?” His blue eyes glittered in the moonlight. And there was that smirk again.
“Jealous?” Was he serious? “Of what?”
“Of my hiding place.” His smirk intensified. She was beginning to regret giving him the sandwiches.
“Please.” She rolled her eyes.
“You can pretend all you want, but I saw how uncomfortable you were when the welcoming committee descended.” He leaned his elbows on the fence and looked out at the horizon. The reindeer were as still and quiet as if they were pretty pictures on a Christmas card.
Zoey bit her lip. “Was it that obvious?”
She’d feel awful if anyone else had noticed. As much as she loathed playing the role of town orphan, she hated the thought of hurting anyone’s feelings even more.
“No.” Alec’s voice grew soft, as it had when he’d coaxed her into telling him about the commercial farm’s offer to purchase the reindeer.
As mysterious as he’d been when she’d first laid eyes on him—angry, intense, clad head to toe in black, straddling that monster of a motorcycle—he was even more so now. Quiet. Contemplative. If Zoey hadn’t known better, she might have thought that somewhere beneath Alec’s gruff exterior beat a sensitive heart.
“I might be more adept than most at recognizing an independent spirit,” he said.
“You mean, it takes one to know one?” She smiled. “That sort of thing?”
“I suppose you could say so.” He glanced at her, and something in his penetrating blue eyes was so poignant that Zoey’s breath caught in her throat. “You don’t like accepting help from people. You’d rather handle things on your own. Why is that?”
He’d gone from completely misjudging her to honing in on her biggest insecurity. How did he do it? She was almost nostalgic for the days when he’d thought she was a spoiled princess.
