by Teri Wilson
“Sure I do.” The dog poked her head between the driver and passenger seats, and Brock gave her a hearty scratch between the ears. “Washington. Olympic Forest.”
Alec nodded, unsure how to continue. Just how much did Brock remember about that day? “You found that boy.”
Brock shook his head. “My dog found that boy. I was just the one on the other end of the leash.”
“Either way, it was impressive.”
“Well, hopefully your new dog will be equally hardworking.” Brock grinned.
“Not my dog. Zoey’s.” He and Zoey weren’t a unit, a couple. They were two separate people, and they always would be.
“Zoey’s dog. Right.” Brock glanced at the dog again. “How are we going to do this? You still want to surprise her?”
Alec’s seeds of doubt sprouted into a blooming garden. He hoped this wasn’t a huge mistake. Otherwise, he’d be stuck with a dog that herded muskoxen. Just what he needed. “Do you mind giving the dog a ride back to the farm? I’ll meet you there on my bike.”
“Sounds good. See you in a few.” Brock waved and shifted the truck back into Drive.
As Alec pulled on his helmet and climbed onto his motorcycle, he breathed a tentative sigh of relief. Brock either didn’t remember the episode with his father at the park-ranger’s office, or he knew not to bring it up. Superb. It was difficult enough not to dwell on the past, not to succumb to the fear that one day he would turn into his parents, without constant reminders.
It was a sobering thought—that he might have something sick and twisted lurking inside him, waiting for some unknown moment to rise to the surface. This was his deepest fear, the thing that kept him up at night.
The thing that kept him away from Zoey Hathaway.
He tightened the chin strap of his helmet. Right now he had more pressing things to worry about than his faulty genetics, like introducing Zoey to her new dog.
Brock bid him good luck as he helped unload the dog and left Alec standing in the farm’s frozen driveway, holding the dog’s leash in one hand and a giant bag of kibble under his arm.
While Brock’s truck disappeared from view, Alec scanned the horizon. Reindeer dotted the pasture in groups of twos and threes, some trotting and tossing their heads, others resting against the fence with their legs tucked beneath them. Only one stood alone—Palmer, with his head bowed and eyes downcast. At first glance, Alec thought he was grazing, but his mouth wasn’t moving. He was simply standing there.
Alec frowned. It was kind of sad seeing him on his own like that. But at least he was here and not off somewhere causing trouble. And if he was depressed, that was where the dog might come in handy.
“It’s now or never,” Alec muttered and glanced down at the dog. She looked ordinary in every way. Then again, Brock’s dogs looked like regular pets, too. “You ready?”
The dog’s mouth stretched open in a wide yawn.
“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.” He chuckled. “Come on. Let’s introduce you to your new owner.”
He led the dog to the front porch and knocked twice on the door to the cabin. After several seconds with no response, his gut churned with worry. Zoey’s car was parked in the drive. Why wasn’t she answering?
He knocked again, with more force this time.
Still no answer.
He huffed out a breath.
“You.” He looked down at the dog. “Stay here.”
Then he tried the knob. It turned easily. Alec’s teeth clenched. Of course she hadn’t locked the door. Anyone could have walked right in.
He would lecture her about that later. First, he needed to find her and make sure she was safe.
“Zoey?” he called into the dimly lit living room.
“Over here.”
He barely heard her response. It was little more than a whisper. Relief, mixed with a heavy dose of irritation, shot through him at the sound of it.
He stalked into the living room and found her sitting at the kitchen table, as calm as could be. “I’ve been standing out there pounding on your door.”
“Sorry,” she said, as if in a daze, and lifted one of her delicate shoulders.
“I was worried something had happened to you.” He jammed his hands on his hips and tried to calm his breathing as the memory of Gus Henderson’s lifeless body struck him fast and hard. “And your door was wide open. Anyone could have walked right in.”
She snapped out of her daze and lifted an angry eyebrow. “Someone did.”
“You know good and well what I mean. You could have been hurt.” He inhaled a ragged breath. “I thought I was going to walk in here and find you injured...or worse.”
Her gaze softened, and her eyes changed from steely emeralds to a tranquil sea green. “You were really worried about me, weren’t you?”
“Can you blame me?” He crossed his arms and did his best to stay annoyed. Those eyes of hers somehow reached right inside him and smoothed away the sharp edges of his anger, leaving something far more dangerous in its place. Something he didn’t want to feel—something that felt an awful lot like attraction.
He didn’t want to be attracted to her. He didn’t even want to be worried about her. Why did she make him so crazy?
“This is about Gus, isn’t it?” She stood and rested a hand on his arm.
“Yes. And no.” He took a step backward, out of her reach. Hurt flashed in her eyes for the briefest of moments, and then her lips fell into a flat, stubborn line again. Stop looking at her lips. “Just lock your doors, would you? You’re too trusting of people.”
“You’re not the boss of me. The last time I checked, it was the other way around.” She pinned him with a glare. “Besides, I know everyone within a hundred-mile radius. You’re the only stranger around here. Are you telling me I shouldn’t trust you?”
“Maybe I am, sweetheart,” he said, his voice tinged with a sadness he couldn’t hide.
She looked at him for a long, silent beat, until her gaze came to rest on the scar above his eye—the one his father had put there on Alec’s tenth birthday.
He raked a hand through his hair, hiding the scar from view in the process.
Zoey sighed. “I’m sorry if I worried you. I wasn’t up to facing anyone, least of all you.”
Just what was that supposed to mean?
Before he could ask, she scooped a stack of papers off the table and thrust them at his chest. “Here. Take a look. I’m surprised you haven’t already heard.”
He glanced down at the slim yellow pages. They looked like traffic tickets.
“Criminal mischief?” He suppressed a snicker. He really couldn’t see Zoey causing any trouble, least of all criminal. “Destruction of government property?” He raised his brows.
Zoey crossed her arms. “Keep reading. There’s one more.”
“Animal at large.” Alec’s jaw hardened. Palmer. He looked back up at Zoey. “What did he do this time?”
“Don’t laugh.” She poked him hard in the chest. “If you so much as giggle, I will fire you on the spot.”
“Who’s laughing?” He tossed the citations on the table and planted his hands on his hips. “And I never giggle. Ever.”
She let out a long, measured breath before speaking. “He attacked the reindeer-themed Christmas display down at the courthouse.”
If he’d been at all tempted to even crack a smile, the slight wobble in her chin would have stopped him. As it was, he realized this was no laughing matter. And the wobble all but did him in.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” she breathed, and she looked as if her whole world had crumbled.
But for once in his life, Alec felt equipped to help. And what was more, he wanted to help. A desire to ease her burden had sparked to life somewhere deep inside him, and t
hat wobble of her chin, coupled with her whisper of defeat, was like gasoline to the flame.
He’d witnessed her feisty streak, her spunky side and the dash of spoiled princess that she denied existed. And he’d seen her act more stubborn than any mule he’d come across. But seeing her vulnerable like this was something else entirely, probably because he knew how difficult it was for her to admit she didn’t have everything under control.
He cupped her chin in his hand and tipped her face so she looked right up at him. “Everything is going to be okay,” he said with the utmost authority.
“But...”
“Shh,” he soothed and placed the tip of his finger against her lips. So soft. What was he doing? He’d promised himself he would keep his distance. Not that he’d done such a great job of keeping that promise thus far. “Wait here. Don’t move.”
When he returned with the dog, she was standing exactly where he’d left her. The fact that she’d obeyed him so precisely prompted his worry to spike. Zoey might be many things—half of them maddening—but compliant was nowhere on the list.
Once she set eyes on the dog, however, a flicker of life came back to her features. “Hold on a minute. What is that?”
“Well, she’s not a reindeer, even though her name is Dasher.” Despite himself, he grinned. Dasher. He’d suspected Zoey would love that. And Alec supposed he could live with it, even though it brought his life one step closer to a Hallmark Christmas special.
Her lips quirked into a reluctant smile. “Dasher. Cute.”
Bingo.
The smile faded as quickly as it had come. But she no longer looked shattered. She looked ticked off, which was fine. Ticked off was better than devastated, in Alec’s book. “What is she doing here?”
“I bought her. For you.” He glanced down at Dasher sitting calmly at his feet and silently willed the dog to do something cute—trot over to Zoey, wag her tail. Anything.
“You bought me a dog?” The barest hint of a smile once again danced on her lips.
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. He should explain. The dog wasn’t a gift. Not exactly. But for some reason, he couldn’t form the words.
She stared at Dasher and shook her head. “This is sweet, Alec, but I just can’t...”
He held up his hands. “Wait. You don’t understand.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Her voice rose a hysterical octave. “I’m done. I can’t handle the reindeer anymore. I’ve tried. I really have, but I just can’t. And the very last thing I need right now is yet another animal.”
“She’s a reindeer-herding dog,” he blurted. So much for finesse.
Her eyes widened. “What?”
Alec nudged Dasher with his foot, and she scooted toward Zoey. Finally. “She’s a Finnish Lapphund. They’re bred to keep an eye on reindeer. Brock Parker helped me find her. I thought she might be a solution to the ongoing Palmer problem.”
A prolonged moment full of emotionally charged silence followed. The only sound Alec could hear, besides the gentle pant of Dasher’s breath, was the beating of his own heart, which was undoubtedly pounding faster than normal.
Why was he so invested in her reaction? He normally didn’t have this problem.
Granted, nothing about this situation was normal.
“You bought me a dog to babysit my troublesome reindeer?” she asked, her voice raw and shaky.
Alec took a step closer. He clenched his hands into fists to prevent himself from touching her again. “That’s the idea.”
Dasher nudged her way between them and pushed her furry head up and under Zoey’s hand. Zoey’s gaze fell on the dog. And then Alec’s chest tightened as her eyes filled with tears.
“Please don’t cry,” he all but begged.
Alec had seen a lot in his life—things that haunted him, memories that had crawled under his skin and settled there for the long haul. But nothing had ever affected him quite like the sight of Zoey breaking down in soul-wrenching sobs.
“Please,” he said again, his voice as raw as the ache in his chest.
Then, even though he knew better, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her in.
He tucked her head under his chin and held her tight as she wept. There was simply no stopping his arms from reaching for her. What was he supposed to do? Stand there and let her cry? Despite where he’d come from, he wasn’t an unfeeling monster.
Far from it, apparently.
Holding Zoey, feeling her heart thundering against his, brought forth feelings in him that he’d never realized he was capable of. Her womanly scent—warm, sweet vanilla again—and the way she fit so perfectly in his embrace made him feel strong, manly, capable of taking care of her. Maybe even making her happy.
He struggled to swallow those misguided feelings. He’d bought her a dog, and she’d gotten a little emotional. That didn’t mean he could allow himself to want things he had no business wanting.
But still he held her.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered against her hair. It tickled his nose and flooded his senses with that honeyed fragrance that made it hard for him to concentrate. “It’s just a dog. Now everything’s going to be fine.”
“No.” She shook her head against his chest. “It’s not that.”
He cupped her chin and searched her gaze. Her green eyes were brighter than ever before—as green as shamrocks. If only she hadn’t been so vulnerable in that moment, if only she hadn’t been crying, Alec might have kissed her right then and there. If only... “What is it?”
“It’s too late.” She swallowed. Alec traced the movement up and down her slender throat. “I’ve done something.”
A thread of unease wound its way through him, but it was easy enough to ignore so long as Zoey was still in his embrace. He pressed an innocent kiss to the top of her head, telling himself it didn’t really count. He still hadn’t broken his promise to himself to stay away from her. He was fully capable of walking away and forgetting this whole episode. Probably.
“I told you everything is going to be fine,” he whispered, and from somewhere deep inside—a place he’d tucked away and nearly forgotten, like an old faded photograph—the words of a Bible verse came to him. And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. Everything would be fine. How could it be too late? “What could you have possibly done?”
She pulled away from him. Her eyes had gone jade now, darkened with regret as she delivered the blow. “I’ve sold the reindeer.”
* * *
Zoey held her breath and braced herself for Alec’s reaction.
He flinched as though she’d slapped him. “What?” he said, incredulous.
“I’ve sold the reindeer.” She sniffed and told herself she had no reason to feel guilty. The reindeer were her problem, not his. She was the one drowning in debt. She was the one struggling to find a way to keep everything together. Not Alec.
How was she supposed to know he would do something so...so nice? She glanced down at Dasher. Who’d ever heard of a reindeer-herding dog, anyway?
She closed her eyes. She knew good and well that this went beyond nice. Alec had thrown her a lifeline at a time when she needed it most. He’d really come through for her, but she hadn’t even given him a chance.
“Oh.” He sank into one of the kitchen chairs. He looked confused, as if trying to absorb what she’d told him. It was a difficult thing to watch. Far more difficult than Zoey had imagined it would be.
She cleared her throat. “I really had no choice.”
It sounded like a weak excuse.
Maybe it was. But an hour ago, a minute ago, she’d believed it with every fiber of her being. How could she have thought otherwise as the Alaska State Trooper wrote out citation after citation and handed t
hem to her with a grim smile?
He’d gone easy on her. He’d charged her with the bare minimum of offenses, but next time would be different. He’d promised her as much. She couldn’t even conceive of a next time. The bare minimum fines had totaled almost three thousand dollars. It was as if she were dealing in Monopoly money now. A thousand here, a thousand there.
But there was no “pass go and collect two hundred dollars.” There was only a constant outflow of money she didn’t even have.
She was finished. She was so far in the red, she no longer knew what black looked like. If she didn’t sell the reindeer, there would be no airplane in her future. Not now, anyway. And at the rate things were going, not ever.
She’d prayed and prayed for an answer. Maybe selling the reindeer was it.
Somehow that didn’t seem right anymore.
“You’ve sold them. To whom?” Alec’s expression turned stony. Obviously, the news had begun to sink in.
“To the only place that’s made an offer,” she answered cryptically.
He narrowed his gaze at her.
Was he really going to make her say it? Just thinking about it made her sick to her stomach. “I called the lawyer and told him to accept the offer from the commercial reindeer operation.”
Alec dropped his head in his hands.
Zoey wanted to go to him. She wanted to comfort him—wrap him in a hug as he’d done for her when she’d been overcome with emotion or even just rest her hand on his shoulder. Anything.
But she knew she couldn’t. She had no right.
She’d hurt him. Every bit as much as she’d hurt the reindeer.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He looked up, his face impassive. Emotionless.
A wave of sadness washed over her. She would have felt better if he’d said something mean, given her a cutting look or even yelled at her. Those things she could have handled.
But this cold indifference felt far worse. Only seconds ago, she’d been in his arms, and now everything had changed.
“It’s fine,” he said, meeting her gaze head-on. She searched his blue eyes for a hint that what had happened between them had been real—that she hadn’t only imagined how right it had felt to be in his arms. But if he thought anything of the sort, he hid it well. “I’ll start looking for a new job right away.”
