Sleigh Bell Sweethearts

by Teri Wilson

  Just, why?

  An answer wasn’t immediately forthcoming, and even if it were, Zoey would never have heard it over the new barking fit erupting from the backyard. This time the yaps sounded frantic, almost urgent.

  A chill of alarm ran up Zoey’s spine.

  She tossed off the covers and slipped into her parka without even bothering to change out of her pajamas. By the time she found her mittens, jammed her feet into snow boots and ran outside, Alec was already running from the guest cabin toward the pasture.

  She’d never been so happy to see him before, not even when she’d mistakenly thought she could single-handedly force Palmer off the airport runway. Once she’d hopped out of bed, a whole host of terrifying possibilities had entered her head. What if Dasher was trying to tell her that the reindeer were in danger? Would she run outside and find herself eye to eye with a rogue moose? Or worse, a wolf? This was Alaska, after all.

  She ran as fast as she could toward Alec, her feet catching a few times in ruts and holes the reindeer had dug in the snow. It was late. Zoey wasn’t sure what time exactly, but the night was already inky black and the moon hovered high in the sky, a tiny sliver that bathed the pasture in only the faintest beam of light. Dasher was still carrying on as if the world were coming to an end, her barks now punctuated with mournful wails.

  Zoey threw herself at Alec once she reached him, clutching his arms, afraid to look beyond his powerful, reassuring frame. “What’s happening?”

  He held her by the shoulders and planted her firmly in place. “Stay right here.”

  She nodded mutely, feeling absolutely ridiculous while he turned to investigate.

  This was silly. She was a grown woman.

  She peered around Alec. “What’s happening?”

  He said nothing, and she couldn’t see a thing. So she squared her shoulders, pretended she wasn’t afraid and marched forward until she stood beside him.

  There was no wolf, no moose. No abominable snowman. Just Dasher standing toe-to-toe with Palmer as the reindeer paced in front of the fence.

  “What’s all the fuss about?” Zoey asked.

  Alec stared down at her. “I thought I told you to stay behind me. Do you ever do as you’re told?”

  “No.” She crossed her arms and tried unsuccessfully to suppress a shiver. It was freezing out here. Poor Dasher was probably just staging a protest against being left outside. “But be honest. Would you really like me more if I did?”

  He cracked the slightest of smiles. “Probably not.”

  Dasher let out another earsplitting bark.

  Zoey threw up her hands. “Seriously, what is her problem?”

  “Maybe she knows something we don’t.” Alec aimed his steely glare at Palmer. “I think our friend here might be trying to make a break for it.”

  “You checked the fence, right?”

  He nodded. “Yep. No holes, no gaps, no breakage of any kind.”

  Zoey opened her mouth to say something else, but before she could utter a word, Palmer did something that put an abrupt end to all the speculation. He gathered his feet under him, and in a single powerful, elegant move he leaped straight in the air. He soared easily up and over Dasher and then right over the fence. He landed on the other side with only the barest of thuds then trotted off into the darkness.

  Zoey and Alec looked at one another and then back at Palmer’s quickly disappearing backside.

  Dasher barked again, as if trying to remind them that she was still there. Ready and willing to get to work.

  “Come on, girl.” Alec jogged toward the gate, unlatched it and swung it open. “Go get him.”

  Dasher lived up to her name and took off after the reindeer, leaving nothing but a cloud of snow and straw behind her.

  Zoey blinked after her, still trying to process everything she’d just witnessed. “Will she really bring him back?”

  “She should. Let’s at least give her a chance.” Alec grinned at Zoey. “Mystery solved, I guess. Now we know how Palmer’s been escaping.”

  “I had no idea. Can they all do that?”

  “Haven’t you heard? Reindeer can fly.” He eyed the legs of her pajama bottoms poking out from beneath her parka. Red flannel, decorated with moose that had Christmas lights tangled in their antlers. They were her favorite Christmas pair. “I would think you of all people would know that.”

  She pulled her parka a bit tighter. “I’m being serious. Can they all leap like that?”

  “Sure, they can jump. Pretty high when they want to, apparently.”

  Jumping wouldn’t have accurately described what she’d seen. Neither did leaping, really. Alec’s mocking aside, what Palmer had done seemed more like flying than anything. As she’d watched him, it felt like flying. The look on his face as he’d soared high over the fence had captured everything that swelled inside Zoey when she was in the cockpit, as if he’d experienced the same awe-inspiring joy she always did at that perfect moment when the wheels of the airplane left the ground.

  She’d talked about that joy before with other pilots, and even they didn’t fully grasp it. Except Gus.

  Gus.

  Zoey’s heart lurched.

  And suddenly everything that had transpired since Gus’s sudden death came together in perfect, poetic clarity. It all made sense—Gus, the reindeer, even the name he’d given the farm. Up on the Rooftop. How had she not seen it before?

  “That’s why Gus had them.” A sense of wonder welled up inside her, and she half expected her own feet to lift off the ground. “They can fly.”

  Alec leveled her with a sardonic look. “No, they can’t. I wasn’t being literal, sweetheart.”

  There it was again. Sweetheart.

  One of these days, he’s going to call me that and he’s going to actually mean it.

  She blinked. Clearly, she was dreaming. Or sleep deprived. Because Alec was the last thing she needed to worry about now.

  She shook her head in an effort to clear her thoughts. “That wasn’t any ordinary jump. That was the closest thing to flying I’ve ever seen from any kind of deer. Admit it—that was something special.”

  Again, the corner of his mouth lifted into a reluctant grin. “I have to admit it was impressive.”

  “Don’t you see? That’s why Gus had the reindeer. Flying was everything to him. The reindeer were a living embodiment of his love of flight. And that’s why he left them to me.” She swallowed around the rapidly forming lump in her throat. “Because he knew I was the only one who would understand.”

  Finally.

  God had answered her prayers. In the most spectacular way possible, He’d shown her why Gus had kept the reindeer and why he’d wanted her to have them after he was gone. She had her answers.

  Then why did she feel so heartsick?

  “Here they come,” Alec whispered as Palmer trotted toward the gate, Dasher nipping at his heels, driving him home with relentless determination.

  Zoey wiped a tear from her cheek with one of her mittens as Alec clicked the gate closed behind them. “That dog is really something.”

  “She is, isn’t she?” Alec walked back toward her, a hint of sadness in his features.

  She knew they were both thinking the same thing—it would have worked. Dasher could have kept Palmer in line.

  If only there’d been more time.

  Defeated, at least for the time being, Palmer settled himself near the barn. He lowered onto his knees then rolled onto his side. Within seconds, he was snoring loud enough to prompt an avalanche. Dasher shook a layer of snow off her coat before stretching out against Palmer’s side and resting her chin across the reindeer’s belly.

  “Look at them.” Zoey bit her lip to keep the tears at bay. “They’re so cute together.”

  Alec no
dded, and his gaze dropped to his feet. “It will be a shame to split them up. They seem to get on really well.”

  “They do. It’s funny. A dog and a reindeer. They’re so different from each other. Who would have known?”

  He lifted his head, and his blue eyes fixed on hers. “I guess it’s true what they say. Sometimes opposites attract.”

  That floaty feeling returned, and she felt as if she might lift right off the ground like Palmer and drift up into the starry Alaskan sky. “I guess so.”

  He took a step closer. The air between them grew still and warm. As warm as a summer day. “Zoey?”

  He said her name as if it was a question. She could hear a world of emotion in his voice—pain, sorrow, regret. But in the midst of all that, hope rose to the top. And right then, with the moonlight casting purple shadows on the snowy pasture and starlight shimmering overhead, Zoey wanted the answer to that question to be yes.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth.

  Yes.

  He slipped off one of his gloves and reached out to touch her face. His fingertip left a trail of shivers in its wake, and she had to stop herself from reaching up on tiptoe and pressing her lips against his.

  Yes, her heart cried.

  But she couldn’t. If she kissed him now, she’d never be able to watch him go. And once the reindeer were gone, Alec wouldn’t be far behind.

  First her parents, then Gus. Now Alec. She knew it wasn’t exactly a fair comparison. Her parents and Gus had died, and Alec was still very much alive. But it didn’t feel altogether different. It felt more similar than she cared to admit. Maybe because the end result was the same. It seemed this was always happening—people she cared about disappearing, leaving her alone.

  She’d grown accustomed to it. She could handle it.

  So long as she didn’t kiss him.

  She took a step backward, out of his reach. “I should go back to bed.”

  His jaw clenched, and his blue eyes gave away his hurt. Hurt, but not surprise. “You’re right. It’s late.”

  Too late.

  “Good night, Alec.” It took every ounce of self-control she possessed to turn and walk away from him.

  “Good night,” he whispered behind her, his warm breath dancing a sad waltz on the back of her neck.

  And it sounded more like goodbye.

  Chapter Eleven

  Alec’s motorcycle was long gone by the time Zoey left for the lawyer’s office the next morning to sell the reindeer. She wondered where he’d gone then reminded herself that she shouldn’t care. The reindeer had been fed, and their trough was filled with fresh water that hadn’t yet begun to freeze around the edges. Dasher was sprawled on her belly on a fresh pile of straw, chewing on a giant rawhide bone while keeping one eye stubbornly trained on Palmer at all times.

  Everything was in order. So she really shouldn’t care where Alec had gotten himself off to.

  But much as she hated to admit it, she did care. Very much.

  Alec was different. There was just something about him that made her want to break down the walls she’d so carefully constructed around her heart. She’d had no trouble keeping her past boyfriends at arm’s length, but a single look from Alec’s cool gray eyes was enough to make those walls feel less like a safety measure and more like a prison of her own making. Cracks were beginning to form in her resistance. Cracks that both terrified and thrilled Zoey.

  She should have let him kiss her the night before. Better yet, she should have kissed him herself. Life was short. How many of her loved ones had to die in order for her to learn that lesson?

  She’d paused to watch the reindeer for a few minutes before climbing into her car, thinking that right now they were the best example of the fleeting nature of life. How much time would they have, once the new owner took them away this afternoon? She’d wanted to cry just thinking about it. So she’d whispered goodbye, blown a kiss at Palmer and left. She hoped they would be gone by the time she came home from closing on the airplane. She didn’t think she could watch them being hauled off.

  The drive to the lawyer’s office was agonizingly slow. Zoey was caught behind a snowplow for a good part of the way, which gave her time to see three planes take off from the runway behind the Northern Lights Inn. One of them was a Super Cub like hers, only red instead of yellow. As she watched it climb above the hotel, its wings going wobbly for a second before steadying out, she waited for the familiar lump to spring to her throat—the one she always got when she witnessed a takeoff.

  It never came.

  Odd.

  She fixed her gaze on the back bumper of the snowplow in front of her and, for once, willed herself to think about something other than flying. She was just spooked, that was all. Once the paper work was in order and she had a big check in hand, things would be different. She would have her airplane. Finally, she’d be able to call herself a real charter pilot.

  How long had she waited for this? Years.

  Years of pinching every penny. Years of ramen noodles for dinner. Years of shopping for clothes at the church thrift shop.

  Years.

  And she’d known those silly reindeer for all of a week.

  Life is short, she reminded herself. You need to seize the moment when you can. Opportunities like this don’t come along every day. You’ve worked long and hard to make this happen. You can’t let a bunch of reindeer come between you and your dreams.

  Nevertheless, the pep talk felt hollow as she guided the car into the parking lot of the lawyer’s office and shifted into Park. She gripped the steering wheel and bowed her head.

  God, please. I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I?

  But when she closed her eyes, all she could see was Palmer...soaring high in the sky, like something out of a Christmas fairy tale.

  Palmer.

  And Alec, his handsome face lit with an astonished smile. She’d never seen him smile like that before. The rarity of the expression made it all the more memorable.

  Alec, the Scrooge—Alec, who’d never in his life had a Christmas tree—had smiled like a giddy little kid when Palmer soared up into the sky.

  Together, they’d witnessed something special the night before. Something spectacular. And thanks to her, something that would never happen again.

  Zoey’s heart stuttered. She opened her eyes and realized her hands were shaking. She reached for the seat belt and couldn’t even get it unclicked.

  What are you doing? Get out of the car. Your future is right through those doors.

  After somehow managing to spring herself free from the seat belt, she practically ran the short distance to the lawyer’s office. Not an easy task in four inches of slush, but possible. Very possible. The hem of her jeans might be soaked through, but by the end of the day, she’d be the person with soaked jeans and an airplane. For once in her life, she would be a strong, independent businesswoman instead of the town orphan.

  The receptionist gave a little start when Zoey burst through the door. “Miss Hathaway, you’re here. Great! Everyone is expecting you. They’re all waiting in the conference room. Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?”

  “No, thank you. I’m fine.” Was she fine? Was she really?

  She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as she entered the conference room and made her way to the empty chair beside her lawyer’s seat.

  “Good morning, Zoey,” he said. His name was David. David Farmer. And he had a kind face, which made her feel better to a minuscule degree.

  “Morning.” She sat down.

  The two men seated on the opposite side of the table smiled and introduced themselves as the president and the CEO of the Bowmaker Commercial Food Group.

  Zoey gulped. Food Group? That didn’t sound good. Not good at all. She tried not to thin
k too much about it while David read over the particulars of the agreement. Instead, she concentrated on the wording of the contract. But after a minute or two of wherebys and heretofores, her mind began to wander. David’s voice drifted further and further away until it became little more than background noise. Soon all she could hear were the soft footfalls of reindeer paws in the snow, their hooves clicking with each step.

  She shook her head. Now she was hearing things? Perfect.

  She refocused on the present and realized the clicking noise she’d heard wasn’t a reindeer at all. Rather, it was David absently clicking the button of the retractable pen in his hand. She wondered if, from now on, every time she heard the click of a pen she’d have visions of reindeer.

  She wished Alec had never told her about the special tendons that reindeer had in their back hooves. She wished she didn’t know how velvety soft their noses felt against the palm of her hand when she offered them treats. She wished reindeer were like zebras or lions, and no one wanted to eat them.

  She wished a lot of things.

  “Do you have any questions?” David asked.

  “Um, yes.” She sat up straighter and smiled at the men seated across from her. “I was wondering if you might consider using part, or perhaps all, of my reindeer for your breeding program. Instead of...you know...” Eating them.

  Had she just said my reindeer instead of Gus’s reindeer?

  The Bowmaker executives exchanged wary glances.

  David gave her a tense smile. “Zoey, the agreement doesn’t specify how the buyers will use the reindeer. Once they take possession of the livestock, it’s really their call.”

  Livestock. The word seemed to lodge in her temple with a sharp pain. “I understand. But I was hoping you might consider sparing them from...from...”

  “From slaughter?” the man who’d identified himself as the CEO asked, and Zoey decided she didn’t like him much. “I’m sorry, but we can’t make promises about the circumstances of any individual animals. We haven’t even evaluated them yet.”

  “I see,” she said.

  There was a moment of silence, then all three men looked relieved that she’d stopped asking questions.