Alaska Heart (27 page)

“Are you cold, Alanna? I could get you a blanket,” he offered.

“Aren’t you a sweetie?” I gave him a squeeze. “I won’t be cold as long as you’re here.”

He tossed his arm around my waist, resting his head on my chest.

“Kid’s got moves, doesn’t he?” Dale said as he tickled Noah so the boy wriggled beside me but didn’t release his grip.

“He must have had a good teacher.” I raised my eyes to Dale.

“I do what I can for the kid.”

A desperate need to consume his lips flooded over me, and I gripped the arm of the couch. Dale’s eyes shot over to my fingers, and he leaned closer to me. The way his breath played over my skin had my insides sparking.

“I’d be happy to do whatever I can for
you
later,” he whispered.

I nodded and turned back to the TV for fear of climbing over Noah to devour Dale.

On the screen, crowds of people lined the street on either side of Dale and his dog team. The snow beneath them was packed down and barely moved as the dogs pawed at it, anxious to get on with the race. People waved signs and cheered as Dale pulled on a black knit hat, donned his sunglasses, and stepped onto the back of his sled. Giving the crowd a wave—and looking sexy as hell—he yelled to Gypsy, and she let out a bark. The rest of the team pulled, and the sled surged forward. The race had begun.

Footage of Dale reaching a checkpoint, signing in, and caring for his team flowed by next. He was taking one of his breaks at this particular stop. He arranged straw beds for the dogs, organized their meal, and inspected each of them for injury. Two more mushers stopped at this checkpoint, prompting Dale to leave during the night after a few hours of sleep on a cot.

Armed with a headlamp, a light on the sled, and several lights on the towline, Dale took off into the blackness of an Alaskan night. Pretty solitary as far as I could see. Nothing but man and dog, and all the night creatures lurking about in the frosty, snow-covered terrain. Just black and white. In the next frame, however, the orange-pink glow of the sunrise cast a waking eye over the land, causing the snow to sparkle like tiny diamonds.

“Wow,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” Dale agreed. “That was my favorite moment right there.”

“Better than crossing the finish line first?”

Dale nodded, the sun’s rays from the TV coloring his face. He leaned his head on the couch with his eyes closed as if he were back out there on the trail.

At that moment, I officially fell in love with Dale.

Just how deep were the wounds going to be when I had to leave? How bad would my heart bleed?

“That was fun,” I said as Dale took my hand and led me to the driveway. Gypsy and Zynk darted ahead of us, heading for the only patches of snow in Selia’s front yard.

“And the night’s not over yet.” Dale tugged on my arm, spinning me toward him. I landed hard against his chest, and he staggered back a couple of steps.

“Sorry.” I hunched up my shoulders. “Impromptu dancing is not one of my skills.”

“We’ll have to work on it.” Dale threw his other arm around me and squeezed me close. I suddenly had no need for my heavy jacket.

“I suck at kissing too.”

Dale planted his lips on mine with long, achingly slow sips. “I don’t agree with that, but we can work on kissing if you’d like.”

“Okay by me.” I encircled his neck with my hands and deepened the kiss until everything around us faded away.

Well, maybe two dogs barked furiously off in the near distance somewhere, but I ignored them. I was with Dale, and his lips were on me, and…

Damn. Those dogs were loud.
Focus, Cormac.
I poured all I had into the kiss, but a squeaky whimper echoing in the trees across the yard made Dale rip his lips from mine. We both spun to face the trees.

“Zynk,” Dale yelled. “Gypsy.” He headed for the trees when the dogs didn’t come to us. I started to follow, but Dale held out his arm. He pressed the keys to the Tribute into my palm. “Get in and start her up.”

“Dale, I—”

“Please, Alanna. Do it. I’m going to get them.” He continued toward the trees. I couldn’t stop him. He would do anything for those dogs. I knew that.

I turned back to the driveway, jogged to the SUV, and hopped inside. I started it and waited. When Gypsy ran up, I climbed out and opened the back door. Gypsy didn’t get in. She kept looking back to the trees.

“C’mon, girl,” I coaxed, patting the seat inside, fearing for Dale’s safety. She barked a short, quick huff as her tail whipped back and forth. I squinted into the darkness and breathed a sigh of relief when Dale emerged from the trees, a dark shadow draped across his arm. Zynk.

“Gypsy, now,” I said. She looked at me and then to Dale before she hopped into the car. I opened the back passenger door as Dale approached.

“Something got his leg.” Dale’s face was stark white. “I’ll clean him up at home. He’ll be fine.” He sounded as if he were telling himself more than me. His way of keeping calm.

“I’ll drive,” I said.

Dale nodded and climbed in beside Zynk in the back of the Tribute. He positioned the dog’s head in his lap as I closed the door and got behind the wheel. Gypsy growled at her window. I hesitated and squinted into the shadows.

“Just go.” The urgency in Dale’s voice caused me to back out of the driveway.

Dale opened his cell phone as I headed for his house.

“Jake. It’s Dale. Something’s loose in your front woods. It got Zynk.”

Dale paused as Jake replied.

“I don’t know yet. Once I get home and clean it, maybe I can identify what attacked him.”

Another pause.

“I wanted to let you know. With everything that’s been going on around here, I don’t want to take any chances. I’m not a hundred percent convinced another animal got Zynk. I mean, he and Gypsy are pretty alert, pretty skilled. It takes something clever or large to surprise them.”

Dale’s nod was reflected in the rearview mirror as he listened to Jake.

“Okay. She’s staying with me anyway.” His eyes swam over to me in the mirror, and he managed a weak smile. “Yeah, you too. Bye.” He snapped the phone shut and looked toward his lap.

“Almost there,” I said.

Dale’s eyes met mine in the mirror again, and he nodded. He bent over Zynk and talked to the dog as it whimpered softly in his lap.

“It’s okay, boy. You’ll see. Just a scratch. I’ll fix you up, and you’ll be fine.”

My heart broke seeing Dale so upset. His eyes were soft, yet anger lurked in them. Anger that something—or someone—had hurt a member of his family.

I pulled into Dale’s driveway and waited impatiently for the garage door to open all the way. As soon as I was in the garage, I hit the switch to close the door. I was more than a little freaked by the dark outdoors at this point. I let Gypsy out behind me and ran around to the back passenger side. After flinging open the door, I backed up to let Dale climb out. He reached in and slid Zynk out, carrying the dog in his arms again. Zynk barely moved, and I caught a glimpse in the overhead lights of the gash oozing blood on his hind leg.

I willed my stomach to settle and jetted up the stairs to the door that led into the house. I unlocked it, and Gypsy slid past me into the kitchen. She circled the island several times before stopping to look at me. She looked frazzled too.

Turning back to Dale who had entered the kitchen, I said, “Where do you want to work?”

“The light’s best in here.” He hit the switch for the overhead eyeball lights with his elbow. As light flooded the kitchen, Dale said, “Go into the bathroom and get a few towels to lay on the floor.”

I shed my jacket, sprinted to the bathroom, and yanked open the closet. I shot back to the kitchen with five towels.

“Spread a few out there.” He motioned to the middle of the floor with his chin. Zynk lay limp in his arms.

Once the towels were spread out, Dale squatted. Zynk must have weighed about fifty pounds, but Dale took his time to avoid causing the dog further discomfort. He gently slid his hands out from under Zynk. A few whimpers escaped Zynk’s throat.

“What else do you need?” I asked.

Dale ran a hand over his face as if to clear his mind. “A basin of hot water.” He pointed to the cabinet under the sink. “The rest is in the shed. I’ll be right back.” He got to his feet and disappeared out the back door.

The spotlights blared in the backyard, and Dale’s other dogs woofed softly in acknowledgement. I busied myself by filling the basin with hot water and carrying it to our makeshift surgical area. Gypsy was licking Zynk’s face; his eyes closed at her touch. She nuzzled me as I set down the basin and knelt beside Zynk. His brown eye opened to look at me. So watery and hazy. A lump formed in my throat. I gathered Zynk’s head in my arms and stroked his soft, thick fur until his eye closed again. His ribs rose and fell, and I begged for them to continue.

When Dale came back into the kitchen, he carried a large trunk marked “Canine First Aid.” He paused for a moment when he saw my position next to Zynk.

“He’s still okay,” I assured him.

Swallowing loudly, Dale nodded and took three giant steps over to us. He set down the trunk, shrugged out of his jacket, and pulled out supplies. A pair of shears, a packet of needles, and surgical twine, gauze, antiseptic, and a syringe.

“A little something to relax him,” he said, picking up the syringe.

“You don’t have anything for us in there, do you?”

“I wish.” Dale pricked Zynk in the fleshy part of his upper thigh. The dog jolted in my lap, but calmed almost immediately. His eyes closed, and his jaw went slack. Gypsy nosed around, concern in her sky blue eyes.

“Gypsy,” Dale said firmly. “Lay down.” He pointed to her basket bed and, with a final glance at her mate, she did as she was told. “Good girl.”

Inhaling deeply, Dale dunked one of the remaining towels into the basin of hot water. He cleaned the blood from Zynk’s matted fur and, with the shears, buzzed away until the gash was in plain view. Fresh blood oozed from the slice, and Dale blotted it with the dry end of the towel.

“Doesn’t look like an animal bite or claw mark.” He studied it more closely. “Looks like a knife slice, but it’s not too deep. Should be able to sew it up and bandage it.”

Turning to his supplies, Dale tried to pick up a needle with his right hand, but his fingers didn’t reach his thumb with the cast on. Instead, he lifted the needle with his left hand and went for the twine with his right, but had the same problem. He let out a frustrated huff and put the needle down. He raked his left hand through his hair.

“Let me.” I picked up the needle and threaded the twine through the eye. Dale tossed me a pair of latex gloves. “Tell me what to do,” I said.

After sanitizing the wound, Dale guided me through sewing Zynk’s leg, and though it turned my stomach every time I passed the needle through the dog’s flesh, the final result was a neat line sealing the gash. Dale wrapped the hind leg in gauze and taped it in place. Lifting Zynk again, he placed the dog on the basket bed in front of Gypsy. She stretched a paw over Zynk and lowered her head to rest on his back.

“She’ll keep a good watch on him.” Dale stood over the basket for a long moment.

Pulling off the gloves, I pushed to my feet but staggered a bit when my weak knees almost gave way.

“Whoa.” Dale hooked his arms under mine. “You okay there, Doc?”

I straightened out and steadied myself against Dale. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s not every day a city girl like me plays veterinarian.”

Dale turned me around. “It’s not every day I find a city girl
willing
to play veterinarian.” He kissed my forehead, and my knees wobbled again. “Thank you, Alanna.”

“I’d say anytime, but I don’t want to do that ever again.” I rested my head on his shoulder. He squeezed me closer, and I wrapped my arms around his waist. He trembled in my embrace, and I rubbed his back with my palms.

“Let’s clean this up.” I gestured to the mess on the floor. “And then I’d say a night like this calls for a bubble bath.”

“Amen.” Dale brushed a kiss over my nose. “I’m glad you’re here.”

While I went for the towels, Dale disposed of the syringe and sterilized the other instruments we had used. He slid the trunk over to the back door. I disinfected the basin, returned it to its place under the sink, and gave the floor a quick swab with a mop.

After one final check on Zynk, Dale set the house alarm and double checked the lock on the back door—both actions reminded me of what could be skulking around outside.

Before my writer’s imagination ran wild, Dale escorted me upstairs. In the doorway of the bathroom, he unbuttoned my jeans and slipped off my sweater. He let the straps of my bra fall from my shoulders and my panties glide down my legs to the floor. I stepped out of them, stripped his clothes as well, and together we entered the bathroom.

Without exchanging any words, Dale grabbed two towels and sat on the edge of the tub. He poured in soap and turned on the water. While the Jacuzzi filled with hot water and suds, I stood behind him, kneading the tight muscles in his shoulders. He moaned as the tension leached from him, then he turned around and pressed his face to my bare stomach. He wrapped his arms around my waist and held tightly for several long moments. I ran my fingers through his hair, and he let out a hot breath against my skin. When he pulled away, his eyes were glossy.

“Dale.” I cupped his face in my hands and ran my thumbs over his whiskered chin. “Zynk’s going to be fine.”

“I know.” His voice sounded raspy and strained. “It’s stupid, but those damn dogs mean a lot to me. Probably too much.”

“They’re your family. Your winning team. You’re allowed to love them, Dale.”

I let him pull me onto his lap. The feel of my bare bottom on his thigh sent ripples of heat through my core.

“You know who else I love?” His eyes were infinitely deep as they swept over me.

I shook my head, but I knew. I knew because I felt it too.

“I love
you
, Alanna, and I know that’s stupid too, because I haven’t known you long, and you’re not staying in Alaska. I had to say it anyway, though. I wanted you to know.”