by Teri Wilson
She wondered what the evaluation process was like. Did they measure the body fat of the reindeer? Why hadn’t she put them all on diets once she’d decided to sell? Scrawny reindeer couldn’t be too appetizing.
“But...” she started again. But what?
But my reindeer are special.
Since when had she started thinking of Gus’s reindeer as hers? Technically, they were hers. But she’d always thought of them as Gus’s.
Until now, apparently.
She took a deep breath. “Gentlemen, I understand where you’re coming from. I do. It’s just that the reindeer, one in particular, are special.”
The CEO furrowed his brow. “One in particular?”
“Yes. His name is Palmer. Perhaps we could come to some sort of understanding about him.” She swallowed, feeling terrible about throwing the other thirty reindeer under the bus. Then panic swarmed in her belly when she realized they didn’t have name tags. Or collars. How would the new owners know their names? Was it too late to make a list?
David turned toward her. “Isn’t Palmer the one that’s been causing you so much trouble?”
“Trouble?” the president and CEO asked in unison.
“Well, um, yes. But...”
“Weren’t all the expenses you’ve incurred due to Palmer’s behavior instrumental in your decision to sell the herd?” David asked.
Must he dwell on Palmer’s mischievous streak? At the rate David was going, Palmer would be on Bowmaker’s naughty list before they even set eyes on him.
“That’s true,” she admitted.
What was wrong with her? She was losing it. Yesterday she’d been so frustrated with Palmer that she’d agreed to sell off all the reindeer, and now here she was, begging for a pardon on his behalf.
“Miss Hathaway,” the president said calmly, resting his palms on the table. “We understand this has been a difficult time for you. And we’re sorry for your loss. From what we’ve heard, Gus Henderson was a remarkable man. The fact of the matter, though, is that he left you these reindeer but failed to make arrangements for their care. Selling them is a perfectly understandable option.”
David cleared his throat. “Actually, Mr. Henderson was in the process of making arrangements for the care of the herd in the event of his death at the time of his heart attack.”
“What?” Zoey’s breath caught in her throat. This was certainly new information.
But did it change things?
“Yes.” David nodded. “He’d begun the process of purchasing a life-insurance policy, with the idea that the proceeds could be used for the care and maintenance of the reindeer. Unfortunately, he passed away before the purchase was finalized.”
Gus had wanted to buy a life-insurance policy so she could care for the reindeer?
For some reason, this made Zoey feel like crying. She sniffed. “Oh.”
“Like I said, Gus Henderson was a fine man. But without that policy in place, young lady, you’ve got a challenging financial predicament on your hands. We can make that problem disappear. Perhaps this will make you feel better about your decision.” The CEO slid a rectangular slip of paper across the table toward her.
It was a cashier’s check, made payable to her. And it was for the largest chunk of money she’d ever gotten at one time. She blinked at it, all the while making mental calculations. With this kind of money, she could pay off the FAA fine and the citations Palmer had incurred, plus have the money she needed for her airplane. She could even pay Alec what she owed him.
Alec.
The thought of him prompted another moment of panic. Why did she feel as though she was letting him down every bit as much as the reindeer?
“Zoey, do you have any more questions?” David asked.
She let her gaze fall on the check again and its dollar amount. All those zeros. “No, I guess not.”
Her mouth grew dry, and she suddenly had difficulty swallowing.
“Here you go, then.” David smiled and offered her his pen.
Zoey stared at it.
Don’t be stupid. Take the pen. Just reach out, take it and sign the papers.
Just as she began to reach for it, he pressed the button again.
Click.
Zoey blinked. Hard. She withdrew her hand.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
The CEO leaned forward, frowning. “Sorry? I don’t understand.”
He wasn’t the only one.
Zoey didn’t understand what she was going to do for money or how she would ever be able to afford her airplane, but one thing was crystal clear—she couldn’t sell those reindeer.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated then slid the check back across the table. “I just can’t do this.”
* * *
The sun dipped below the mountains as Alec exited the highway and cruised back into Aurora. Even with his protective winter gear—chaps, gaiter and thick leather gloves—the cold was beginning to get to him. Probably because he’d ridden his bike over two hundred miles to Denali and back since sunup.
If he was going to stay in Alaska, it might be time to invest in some heated clothing. And it looked as if he was going to do just that. Stay. Although not in Aurora. Not even close. Alaska was a big state—the biggest.
The job at Denali National Park was his. The senior park ranger who’d interviewed him had already called his references back in Washington before he’d even arrived for the interview. He’d been impressed enough with what he’d heard that the interview itself had seemed more like a formality. The only blip on the radar had been when he’d asked Alec why he’d left the forest to work as a ranch hand on a reindeer farm.
He’d made some lame excuse, said he needed a change of scenery, which was technically true. He’d needed to go somewhere where his past wouldn’t find him, and that had required a radical change of scenery. The senior park ranger didn’t appear to have any qualms about the explanation. In fact, he’d been pleased that Alec had some experience with reindeer since caribou were plentiful at the park.
Alec wasn’t sure quite how he felt about that. He’d been reluctant to work with reindeer in the first place, and now they’d managed to burrow their way under his skin. He dreaded returning to the farm and facing the empty pasture.
Deep down he felt guilty for not being there to deal with their transport. He should have been there when the truck came to pick them up. Didn’t that fall under his job description?
He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t watch them being taken away, knowing what was bound to happen to them and not able to do a thing to stop it.
Zoey could fire him if she so chose. She probably should fire him. He’d been paid to work through the end of December, but what was he supposed to do on the farm until then without the reindeer to care for—toss frost-covered Frisbees for Dasher all day?
No, thank you.
He gritted his teeth at the thought of leaving. He didn’t know why. Taking the job in Denali made perfect sense. The money was good, and right now his bank balance could use a little boost. He’d spent a sizable chunk of change on Dasher.
I bought a fancy reindeer-herding dog for a woman who no longer owns any reindeer.
It would have been funny if it weren’t so sad.
As he turned his bike off the main road and headed up the drive toward the now-reindeerless reindeer farm, he did his best to shake his somber mood. Or at the very least, hide it. He had a feeling he was about to find Zoey in a puddle of tears. Though he suspected she thought otherwise, he doubted even the purchase of her airplane would fully make up for the loss of the reindeer. And even though every man, woman and child in Aurora would be happy to lend her a shoulder to cry on, Alec knew good and well she’d be holed up on the farm all alone. Zoey was the type of woman who would rather carr
y the reindeer away one by one on her back than have anyone pity her.
Somebody needed to be there to pick up the pieces. He figured he might as well be the one to do it. To comfort her. Why exactly he thought that duty should fall on his shoulders was a mystery he couldn’t begin to fathom.
But when he pulled his motorcycle alongside Zoey’s car, the pasture wasn’t quite as barren as he’d expected. Reindeer dotted the landscape, poking at the snow with their noses and tossing hay into the air with their antlers as if today were any ordinary day.
So he hadn’t missed them being hauled away, after all.
His chest tightened when he climbed off his bike and spotted Zoey leaning against the fence, wrapped in a thick fleece blanket. She was wearing that ratty plaid hat again—the one he suspected had belonged to Gus. A mug with a candy cane sticking out of it was clutched in one of her hands, and with the other she was petting Palmer. The reindeer stretched his neck across the fence, leaning into her touch with a look of sheer rapture on his face.
Oh, boy.
This cozy goodbye scene was a recipe for disaster if he’d ever seen one. What was she doing? Trying to torture herself?
He’d never been one for long, emotional goodbyes. Even when Camille had told him she no longer wanted to marry him, the matter had been handled like a business arrangement. There were things to be said for a clean break.
“Zoey,” he ground out, walking toward her with purpose. There weren’t going to be enough tissues in the world if he let her love on Palmer like that until they came to take him away.
She spun her head around. “Oh, hi, Alec. I’m glad you’re home. I...”
“Stop.” He held up his hands. “Just stop. Let’s go inside.”
“I don’t want to go inside.”
“Zoey, please listen. For once.” He jerked his head toward the house.
She ignored him, of course. “I made some hot chocolate. Want some?”
He frowned at her mug, aiming most of his annoyance at the candy cane. “I’m not exactly the hot-chocolate type.”
“Seriously? Who doesn’t like hot chocolate?” Palmer craned his head toward the candy cane, as if he were trying to drive her point home. Zoey laughed. “Careful, Palmer. You’ll end up on Santa’s naughty list.”
She was doing it again. Driving him crazy. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was intentional. Or maybe she was just in massive denial.
He waved a hand between her and the reindeer. “Do you really think this is the best idea? Considering...” There was no pretty way to finish that thought, so he didn’t. She had to know what he meant.
“Actually, there’s something I need to tell you.”
And that was when he noticed the dog was missing. The last time she’d had something to tell him, it was that she’d sold the reindeer. So the absence of the dog struck him as slightly ominous. “Wait a minute. Where’s Dasher? Have you sent her packing, too?”
Zoey’s emerald eyes flashed. “She’s inside, curled up by the fire. I thought she looked cold. And for your information, no one’s leaving. Everyone is staying right here.”
His head swam. And even as he stood there, trying to wrap his mind around what she was saying, snow from Denali National Park was still trapped in the treads of his hiking boots. A single thought throbbed in his consciousness. Not everyone.
He swallowed. “The sale didn’t go through?”
She shook her head, and the anger in her pretty green eyes melted into tears. “I couldn’t go through with it. When the time came to sign the papers, I literally couldn’t even make myself pick up the pen.”
“Wow. I don’t even know what to say.” A number of things sprang immediately to mind. Chief among them was a simple, sincere prayer. Thank You, Lord.
She grinned up at him through her tears. “Surprised?”
“Yes. Pleasantly so.” He was forced to clear his throat.
To his horror, he realized he was getting choked up himself. Over a bunch of reindeer, no less.
“Good,” Zoey whispered.
She set her mug down on the fence railing, and before Alec even realized what she was up to, she’d reached up on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around him, blanket and all.
He hadn’t had time to properly prepare himself for her closeness. All at once he was enveloped in her warmth, in her softness. In her. His head spun, overwhelmed by a flurry of sensation. Zoey’s usual vanilla scent, kissed by the faintest hint of candy cane. The sparkle of snowflakes that had gathered in her hair. And above all else, the undeniable feeling of completion that came over him when she stepped into his arms.
Holding her felt right.
It felt so right, it almost frightened the life out of him.
“Zoey.” He dipped his head and murmured against her hair. “What does this mean, exactly?”
She tipped her head up to meet his gaze with a smile on her lips, but he could see the subtle melancholy behind it. “It means I’ve accepted the fact that Gus’s reindeer are now mine. They were a part of him. A part of him I wouldn’t want to let go, even if I could.”
“And your airplane?” He had to ask, even though he feared he knew the answer already.
A tear slipped down her cheek. “There is no airplane. Not anymore. Maybe someday.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” He gathered her back into an embrace and held her tight.
He held her as she cried, both happy tears and tears of loss. He held her while the last lavender glow of twilight vanished into the indigo night.
He held her until a loud crunching noise dragged them back to reality.
Alec chuckled. “I think Palmer might have stolen your candy cane.”
“Perfect,” she said as she stepped out of his arms.
Then she bit her lip, drawing every bit of Alec’s attention to her mouth. “It won’t hurt him, will it?”
He paused for a beat, trying to remember what they’d been talking about.
Palmer. The candy cane.
Oh, yeah. “It was just a nibble. I think he’ll be fine, although I wouldn’t let him make a habit out of it.”
She pulled the mug out of Palmer’s reach. “You’re like a walking encyclopedia when it comes to these guys. What would I do without you around here?”
What would I do without you around here?
He told himself it was just an expression. She didn’t mean anything by it. She couldn’t. She would be perfectly fine after he’d gone.
“There’s something else we need to talk about,” he said.
“Oh?” she asked, reaching out to pet Palmer with her free hand.
Palmer grunted with delight. Alec had never seen him so happy. It was as though he somehow knew he’d been granted a last-minute reprieve, like a prisoner on death row. And Zoey looked pretty happy herself now, especially considering she was a pilot without an airplane.
Too happy.
Tell her. Just do it. Tell her about the job in Denali. “It can wait. Come with me.” He reached for her hand.
She gave him a quizzical look as she fell in step beside him. “Where are we going?”
There wasn’t much Alec could do about how much she’d sacrificed to keep the reindeer. He couldn’t buy her an airplane. But there was one thing...
He gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m taking you flying.”
* * *
Zoey let Alec lead her to the driveway where, as she’d expected, there was no airplane waiting to whisk them away. “I’m confused. Am I supposed to flap my arms or something?”
He raised a sardonic brow. “Close your eyes, Miss Smarty Pants.”
She wasn’t sure what he was up to, but she obeyed. Why not? After the emotional day she’d had, she didn’t have the energy to argue.
“Here. I don’t wan
t you to freeze to death,” he murmured.
He lifted the blanket from her shoulders and slid her arms into a heavy leather jacket. Zoey’s senses went on high alert.
It was his voice. Without the benefit of sight, his deep, masculine tone was impossible to ignore. It rumbled through her, from the soles of her feet to the tips of her fingers. She forgot to breathe for a minute, until she realized he’d tucked her into his own jacket. It still carried the warmth of his body. And his scent—a heady combination of fir trees and cold mountain air. She took a deep breath.
“You can open your eyes now,” he rumbled again.
She let her lashes flutter open and found Alec sitting astride his motorcycle, smiling and thrusting a helmet toward her.
She hesitated. Hadn’t she nearly fallen off the last time she’d gotten on this thing? “Wait. I’m not sure if this is such a good idea.”
“It’s the closest thing to an airplane I’ve got. Trust me. When we get out on the back roads and you stretch your arms out wide under the starry sky, you’ll feel like you’re flying.” He winked, and a zing of electricity shot through her.
He made it sound awfully fun. And oddly romantic.
Although she probably wouldn’t know how to respond to a romantic gesture on the rare occasion that one presented itself. She’d made a habit out of avoiding anything remotely resembling a romantic overture. She’d once feigned a stomach virus just to dodge an invitation to the church Valentine’s Day dance.
Not that deep down she was pining for romance. She needed a boyfriend like she needed another three dozen reindeer. Romance was the last thing she should be thinking about. Her life was a mess right now. She had no job, no airplane and a rapidly dwindling supply of money. And she’d had about as much loss and heartache as she could take. She’d been on her own for a long time now. Life was comfortable this way. Safe. So long as her heart was her own, the rug couldn’t be swept out from under her again. Eventually, love only led to one thing. Loss.
Alec’s lips curved into a naughty grin. “You’re not still scared of my motorcycle, are you?”
Now, how was she supposed to ignore that kind of accusation?
