Alaska Heart (11 page)

“Nope. Hit me like a bolt of lightning.”

“An accurate description.” I continued kneading his fingers, which relaxed in my lap.

“I can only imagine what those fingers of yours can do to the rest of me. That feels so good.” His eyes blinked slowly, as if he were falling into a contented semi-consciousness.

“You’re not going to fall asleep at the wheel, are you?” I stopped rubbing and was about to set his hand back on his side of the car.

“No, sleep is the last thing I want to do.”

After two solid hours of driving and lighthearted flirting, Dale turned the car onto a winding roadway. Signs indicated we were headed into Denali National Park. Dale rolled down his window and dug a plastic card from his coat pocket. He waved it in front of a scanner and then drove forward after the electronic arm rose to clear a path for us.

A fresh excitement—one not totally focused on Dale—rushed into me. I was about to enter one of the most pristine areas of wildlife left in the United States. I reached into the backpack at my feet and rifled around until my fingers closed over my camera.

“My, aren’t we prepared?”

I shot him a cocky grin. “You don’t get these prestigious assignments unless you’re prepared, Dale.”

“Oh, I forgot I was traveling with a professional.” He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, and the motion made me wonder what he was thinking. “So you get a promotion…when you go back to New York?” His voice was not as light and easygoing as it had been seconds earlier.

“If I do this article right, it’s a definite possibility. Two other writers are in the running.” My mind wandered back to New York, causing my chest to tighten.

“Are you satisfied working for
Gaia
?”

“I love working for
Gaia
. I’m an outdoors girl. Always have been. To be able to write about nature for a living is wonderful.” My turn to nibble on my lower lip and ponder. “You love it here in Alaska.” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement. A fact.

Dale nodded. Where did that leave whatever was happening between us? More importantly, why the hell was I thinking something was happening between us? I had to go back to New York. He had to stay here in Alaska. That’s a mighty long distance to make this into something.

Foolish to even be thinking about all this. I’d only known Dale—in person—for a little more than a day, but wanting him was inevitable. My subconscious had already decided to have feelings for him. She could be a bitch if she didn’t get what she wanted.

We drove along the narrow park road in silence, until the formal path disappeared. Dale parked and said, “We go on foot from here.”

I gathered my pack and climbed out of the SUV. Opening the back door behind me, I let Gypsy jump out. Zynk hopped out on Dale’s side, and I met them at the back of truck. Dale unloaded a backpack of his own from the trunk and slung it over his shoulder. Before turning toward a trail, snow matted by a snowmobile perhaps, Dale hesitated in front of me.

“I’m not going to like letting you go back to New York. I know it’s too soon to be saying that, but I’m drawn to you, Alanna.”

“I know what you mean. How about if we enjoy the moments we have and save the good-byes for when we have to do them?” It sounded like an easy plan, but my body and my heart knew otherwise.

Dale nodded. “C’mon then. Let’s get started.” He took my hand and led me to the trail. Patting his thigh once, Dale propelled Gypsy and Zynk into a trot behind us. Their noses hit the ground as they sniffed and poked around in the clumps of scattered snow.

“We’ll head for Sable Pass and then on to Polychrome. You’re guaranteed to see animals wherever we go, but those spots offer good views.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Tour Guide.” I gave his hand a squeeze. I longed to be rid of my gloves again, so I could feel his flesh against mine, but the Alaska cold was ready to bite. I didn’t feel it so much with Dale beside me, but I knew mere thoughts of him couldn’t protect me against the elements. Plus, we had a hike ahead of us. At least a fraction of my brain attempted to be practical.

As we walked, I scanned back and forth, keeping a sharp lookout for wildlife and landscape. We traipsed through a field of low brush, fringed in tall, impressive pines. My feet squished through snow pockets. Black twigs poked through the white. Wide open, rolling hills parried with dense groups of trees for control of the land. As the sun brightened in the morning sky, more beauty stepped from the shadows. I stopped every so often to snap a few photos, and Dale waited patiently.

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m going to slow us down with this picture-taking.”

“That’s okay. It’s why we’re here.”

“How many times have you been here?” I stepped onto a boulder to get a better shot of the trees in the distance.

Dale let out a long breath. “Hundreds.”

“Really?” I hopped off the boulder.

“Really. My dad used to bring us here every summer, and I’ve been coming back here regularly. Can’t stay away, you know?”

“I can see how that could happen. It’s peaceful here.” Such a contrast to the industrialized world of New York.

“It’s easier to feel like a part of the Earth here.” His voice was a whisper, reverent and serene.

“Oh, that’s lovely. Can I use it in my article?”

“Sure. If you think it’s any good.”

“It’s perfect.” I rummaged around in my pack for my notebook and pen. After scratching down what he’d said, I made a few more notes about the landscape. Dale walked a bit ahead with Gypsy and Zynk on his heels. I grabbed my camera. Focusing on him and the dogs, I snapped several shots. A little souvenir for myself.

I jogged to catch up with him, but stopped short when a loud, rumbling growl echoed through the natural silence that cloaked the park. Dale motioned for me to stay still. With another hand signal, he sent Gypsy and Zynk to their bellies. Dale took a few more steps forward, hardly making a sound as he moved. He signaled for me to approach, and when I did, my jaw dropped open.

Two full-grown grizzlies faced one another on hind legs, their massive paws swatting at each other. Deep grunts emanated from them as they grappled. One tumbled to the ground. The other lunged on top of the fallen bear. I nudged Dale and pointed to my camera. He nodded, and I maneuvered the view screen to capture both bears in the frame. I snapped shot after shot without a flash or a sound, and the bears continued their battle as if Dale and I weren’t watching their every move.

Snow flew in every direction as the bears wrestled. Finally, the one on the ground squirmed free and lumbered into the trees. The winner stomped after him to the tune of snapping twigs and low growls.

“Oh my Goddess! That was amazing!” Adrenaline pumped through my body, while fear and wild excitement battled for dominance.

“Your article is going to kick ass if we keep having shows like this.” Dale tugged on my backpack, so I would follow him. As soon as he motioned to them, Gypsy and Zynk popped up and traveled along with us.

“Good thing you know how to not look like food,” Dale added, grabbing for my hand.

“I’ve had years of practice being invisible.”

Dale stopped walking and turned to face me. “You’re not invisible. Not to me. I’d have spotted you miles away.”

“What would have happened if the bears had spotted us?” I tightened my grip on Dale’s gloved hand, beaming a little at his compliment.

“I’m sure they knew we were there.” He hiked a small incline, tugging me behind him. “They had more important business to tend to at that moment. They weren’t on the hunt, and they weren’t mamas protecting cubs, so we were of little interest.”

I let that information sink in and realized Dale knew a great deal about the wilderness. He looked as if he belonged in Denali, wandering amongst the bears. Though the temperature was frosty, he looked unaffected. He wore his jacket and hat as if they were a permanent part of him, and his feet carried him steadily across the terrain. A new swell of admiration flared inside of me as I followed him.

My fingers itched to capture everything around us on camera. As we walked through Sable Pass, we encountered a red fox, her rusty fur dusted in snow, as she corralled three cubs into a burrow. Four Dall sheep, two of them lambs actually, crossed the fresh snow covering a nearby mountainside. Their innocent faces, dotted with two soulful black eyes, turned skyward as they sniffed the air and then followed the older sheep along the mountain. The spiraled horns adorning the heads of the two adult Dall sheep showcased an exquisite example of nature’s artwork.

“Those horns remind me of the ram carved onto your father’s door at the tavern,” I said.

“I carved that.”

“Holy shit. Really? You’re good.”

“I’m good at a bunch of things.” Dale threw a glance over his shoulder, and a hot sweat broke out all over me.

At Polychrome Pass, a gray wolf was hunting hares. Poetry in motion, he crouched in the snow and waited for the unsuspecting hare to hop by. Then, in one swift pounce, the wolf caught its prey, and the hare breathed its last breath. Though something tugged at my heart over the spent life, it was so circle of life, so natural, I couldn’t help but be awestruck. I remembered reading about the food chain in Ms. Taylor’s third grade, but seeing it live was a whole different experience.

“You hungry?” Dale pulled off his glove and checked his watch.

“What time is it?” Time had no meaning in Denali. The real world seemed so far away in this picture-perfect wonderland.

“Nearly one o’clock. We should eat, hike a little farther, and then, sadly, make our way out before it gets dark.”

I made a sad face that had Dale lifting my chin with his still ungloved hand. The feel of his skin against mine wiped away the frown.

“Wouldn’t want you to freeze your lovely ass off,” he said.

“I suppose if you don’t vanish into thin air once we get back to your truck, I can live with having to leave Denali.”

“Wherever I’m going today, Alanna, you’re coming with me.” It wasn’t a request and, oddly, I had no argument with it. I rose on my toes to brush my lips against Dale’s. As we got sucked into the kiss, I slid my hands to either side of Dale’s head. In one quick motion, I pulled his hat down to the bridge of his nose, throwing off his skilled field trip around my lips.

“Hey!” He stumbled back and yanked his hat off. Raking a hand through his thick hair, he narrowed his eyes at me. “Be on alert, Gaia-girl. I love payback.”

“I’ll be ready.” I raised an eyebrow in challenge and narrowly avoided the snowball Dale constructed and hurled at me. “You throw like a girl.”

“Pushing it, lady.” He assembled another snowball and pretended to take his time aiming it.

“Oh, throw it already. You’re going to miss.”

“I don’t think so.” The words still hung in the air as he dropped his backpack and launched himself at me. After scooping me up in his arms, he spun us both around before sinking playfully into the snow. I let out a yelp that had Gypsy and Zynk jouncing over, their tails wagging, wanting in on the action. The dogs took turns nosing at my cheeks, while Dale held down my shoulders.

“No fair.” I gasped around laughter. “Three against one.”

“Are you going to take back that I throw like a girl?” His face was inches from my own, and his eyes held me captive. Though I was now wet, a hot splash of fire blazed through my body.

“Sure. I’ll take it back.”

He eased his hold and sat back next to me. “Thank you.” Dale dusted off his jacket, dropped the snowball, and stood to retrieve his pack.

“I’ll take it back when you start throwing like a man.” When he whipped around, I tossed a snowball square at his chest. A dead on bull’s-eye.

“Wait,” he said, pointing a finger at me. “You wait.”

I got to my feet and went over to him. “I’ll bet you don’t hold grudges. Besides, I have ways of making you forget about revenge.”

He raised an eyebrow as he handed me a plastic container from his backpack. “You’re going to have to try awfully hard to make me forget.” He tossed me a water bottle, and we shared our lunch, grinning at each other from time to time like adolescents. Dale set out food for each of the dogs as well, and they attacked it.

“Did you make these sandwiches?” I asked, finishing off the last of my own.

“Uh-huh. Why, were they not to your liking?” He stuck his tongue out at me as I handed him the empty container.

“Actually, they were excellent. Ram has rubbed off on you.”

“Yeah.” Dale took a deep breath. “The older I get, the more like him I get.” He shrugged and tossed the container into his backpack.

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Your father seems like a great man.”

Thoughts of my own father rushed into my head. I was totally a daddy’s little girl. My whole world revolved around him when I was a kid and remained so as I’d aged.

“My father is a great man,” Dale said, “but sometimes I make myself crazy trying to impress him.”

“He certainly seems proud of you, so you must be doing something right.”

“He gets a kick out of me winning the Iditarod, but he has other goals in mind for me.” Dale took a swig from his water bottle and then hitched his pack onto his shoulder.

“Other goals? Like what?”

“Like settling down. Getting married. Having kids. Like my sister.”

“Do you want those things?” I didn’t know if I wanted the answer to that question, but it spilled out before I could stop it.

“Eventually. I know my sister and brother-in-law are happy. Family life looks good on them. I wouldn’t mind a slice of happiness like that.” I matched step with Dale as he walked. “What about you?”

I don’t know why, but I hadn’t been prepared for him to turn the question over to me.

“Me?” I walked beside him quietly for several long seconds. “It all sounds good. In theory. I have doubts I can do the family thing and the career though. I don’t juggle well and marvel over people who do.”

Dale simply nodded, and I appreciated his ability to listen without offering advice.

We trekked onward until I spotted caribou loitering by a grove of trees. One of them, a fine bull, kept watch while the others nosed around in the snow. He had an impressive set of antlers that looked too heavy for his head to carry. White tufts of fur ran along the underside of his neck, giving him an old sage appearance. The air of dignity surrounding him was unmistakable as he held his head high.