Hitched (17 page)

He felt his heart squeeze. It had been horrible to not be able to really fix things for her. And trying to hadn’t been amazing. He’d
needed
to do it. He’d felt driven to find something, anything, to make her smile.

He had to change the subject. The topic of his father gave him a stomachache and made him want to hit things. “Now tell me about the dresses.”

“I couldn’t choose,” she said without any further encouragement. “Every time I thought I’d picked one, I’d wake up the next day and hate it and change my mind. Everyone was ready to strangle me. Finally it was the last day to order to get them in time. I couldn’t do it. I hated every single one of them. So my cousin Bernice said she’d pick and I said fine.”

“What was that all about?” Gavin asked. Allie loved clothes. She always knew exactly what to wear. She lived to accessorize.

“Well, gee, Dr. Freud, you suppose maybe it meant that I didn’t want to get married?”

He looked at her. “You knew you didn’t want to get married even when you were picking out dresses?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. But I ignored it. I talked myself into wanting to.”

“Did you have to talk yourself into saying yes to the proposal?”

She wet her lips. “I knew it was coming. Josh’s mom kept talking about how great it was that Josh was there for me, and how having me around meant part of my mom was always around.” Allie’s gaze went to the road in front of the truck. “Sophie was so sad. My dad was so sad.
Everyone
was so sad. But when we were all together, especially me and Josh, they smiled and laughed. I knew it was working on Josh. Ever the obedient son, I knew it was making him think.”

“You were thinking too.” Gavin didn’t mean for it to sound quite as surly as it did. But this was
not
his favorite subject. She had, after all, been the one to say yes.

“Yeah,” she finally said, quietly, “I was thinking too.”

He wasn’t sure he was ready to hear all the details about her thoughts. About how wonderful Josh was, how happy their families had been about their engagement, how she regretted hurting them by coming with him.

He had a twinge of guilt when he pushed harder on the accelerator, but was relieved to see the end of Major’s driveway. They didn’t speak as they drove the mile along the dirt road leading up to the house.

As they pulled in, Gavin looked over the house and yard through Allie’s eyes. Major’s place was like every other in Bend—or anywhere in Alaska, for the most part. There were three four-wheelers, one of the primary modes of transportation around here, parked along one side of the house. Further out by the trees were two beat-up, broken-down pickups. They weren’t just parked there because Major was too lazy to haul them to town. Everyone kept a hold of anything that could be used for parts. They called them “resources”. There were also stacks of tires in the yard. Some had studs for driving in the snow and ice that would hit in winter, and others that were kept on hand to replace any problems.

There were a number of buildings behind the house as well. A few were sheds that stored even more “resources”, one was the wood shed as Major heated his house with a wood-burning stove, and one, Gavin knew, was Major’s outhouse. He winced and hoped that Allie wouldn’t need the bathroom while they were here. That might be too far out of her comfort zone.

They pulled up beside the dog yard and kennel area. Gavin opened his mouth, but anything he would have said, if he could have come up with anything anyway, was interrupted as Allie asked, “Are those doghouses?”

It seemed obvious—there were dogs lying on top and in front of several of the insulated houses. But what probably made her wonder was that the houses were huge and there were ten of them. The houses lined the fence and opened up to a large, clean central area with bowls of water and lots of room for the dogs to move.

He shifted into park. “Yeah, those are Major’s mushing dogs.”

“Like for dogsledding?” she asked.

Gavin was so grateful for the new topic—one he was quite confident in—that he launched into a description of how the dogs were kept and trained.

Major mushed year-round. The sleds were for snow, but he had rigs for the warmer times and the tourists enjoyed it no matter what. Major got around almost exclusively by dogs or by plane.

Just then Major banged out of the gate to the yard with Eddie right behind him.

“I thought Eddie was a girl,” Allie said.

“She is. That’s Major. He’s the owner.”

She opened her door and started to get out. “So who’s Eddie?”

A
woof
and a giant set of front paws were planted on her stomach the moment her feet hit the ground.

“That is,” Gavin said, watching Allie gasp, then smile at the Alaskan malamute who was introducing herself.

Allie set her hand on the dog’s head. “Nice to meet you, Eddie.”

The dog gave another soft
woof
, then dropped her paws back to the ground. Allie laughed and turned to Gavin. “Is there something wrong with her?”

“She’s damned cranky,” Major groused from near the fence to the dog yard.

Eddie had always been particular. “She’s a new mom,” Gavin said. “Give her a break.”

“She’s a new mo—” Allie’s question was interrupted as five puppies came tumbling out of one of the houses.

Allie was through the gate and on her knees in the dirt with the puppies in under ten seconds. The five furry, wiggly bodies fought for space on her lap as she laughed and tried to gather them all to her at once.

No one seemed to care—or even notice—that her pants were white. Least of all Allie.

Gavin just stood watching. He wasn’t sure what hit him hardest—that she didn’t care about getting her clothes dirty or how breathtaking she was when she smiled like that. She hadn’t even reacted to the smell. The dogs were beautiful, but dog yards stank. Period.

At the moment, if she wanted to get back in his truck and take her clothes off, he’d be at her mercy.

Chapter Six

Eddie and the puppies were completely healthy and Gavin finally got Allie to the truck again.

She felt great. She knew she looked like a mess though. She tucked her hair behind her ear as she looked down at her clothes. “I have paw prints everywhere.”

Gavin glanced over. “I noticed.”

There was something in his tone and his eyes that made her eyes widen. His gaze flickered down and she followed it to see multiple mud prints on her breasts and the front of her pants. She’d definitely been felt up.

But just Gavin’s eyes on her good parts made them tingle. She’d trade that hot look in his eyes for litters of cute puppies.

“You want to sit in my lap?” she asked. “It’s all yours.”

“I do,” he said, putting the truck into drive. “Or have you on mine.”

“I’m not the one who thinks that’s a bad idea, remember?” she asked, tingling even harder.

“I’m having trouble recalling my argument, frankly,” he said, staring—almost glaring—at the road. “If I can find you playing with puppies hot, I think I’m pretty far gone.”

She grinned. “I’m covered with mud and smell like dog. How is that hot?” Though she loved that he was hot for her—whatever the reason.

“You being happy, carefree, uninhibited is hot.”

Something was coursing through her. Getting out into the beautiful countryside, the fresh air, the puppies—she didn’t know for sure but she was feeling
something
. Playful, daring, free. Things she hadn’t felt in a long time. It was such a relief. She felt like she’d finally taken a deep breath.

“Can we go dancing before next week?” she asked.

“If we do, I’m really in trouble,” he said.

“Why?”

“I want you right now so dammed bad I can hardly drive straight, and you have mud on your cheek. If you get dressed up and we go dancing, I’ll have you up against the nearest wall before the first song is over.”

Perfect
. As soon as she caught her breath she said, “In the case, I’ll make things easier and not wear panties.”

Gavin swerved slightly and she gave a soft laugh. When she looked over at him, he seemed tense. It wasn’t just sexual tension either.

“You’re mad,” she observed.

“At myself.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to get you naked more than I want to talk to you.”

He really did seem disappointed. Which was sweet. And he’d taken her to see puppies. He was trying to take care of her and she did feel better. Like maybe talking wouldn’t turn into a maelstrom of emotion and tears. Maybe it would be okay even. Gavin deserved to know she was better.

She took a deep breath. She was willing to try this. “No one knew my mom’s favorite flower. And it made me nuts. That one thing, more than anything, made me crazy. I threw a vase against the wall at the funeral home because I was so pissed.”

Gavin swerved again because he was looking at her. But he corrected the wheel and slowed down.

Allie stared out the windshield, but she knew he was surprised. He’d never seen her cry and he’d definitely never seen her temper. Why would he? They got along great. They never fought. They disagreed but it was always the same stuff—their families and Promise Harbor. They’d just gone their own ways when it came to that. She’d never shown him just how angry or hurt or frustrated she was about her family. He recognized her tension, but she never cried or ranted and yelled about it. It had been obvious he didn’t want to be involved with all of that, so she’d kept the specifics to herself.

“Of all the things,
that’s
when I lost it,” she went on.

There had been so many things during her mom’s sickness and after her death that had made her crazy. Her brothers hadn’t done one single load of laundry the entire time. Just for instance. But that day they’d gone to the funeral home to discuss the service had been the final straw.

“I held it together up until then,” she said.

Breaking down wouldn’t have done anyone any good. The laundry would have still been dirty, her dad would have still needed lunch for work the next day and her mom would have still been gone.

“But then we were sitting there and the funeral director wanted to know what kind of flowers we wanted to use and no one knew her favorite flower. Not my dad. Not
me
.” That still bugged her. “I got up and stomped out of his office. On my way out the front door, I noticed this vase of daisies. It was beautiful. Then I realized that daisies are
my
favorites and I still didn’t know what my mom liked best. So I picked the vase up and heaved it at the closest wall before storming out.”

There was a beat of silence before Gavin said, “I would have liked to have seen that.”

That pulled her attention from the road. “Really?”

He nodded. “It seems like the only emotions we’ve ever had together were happy or passionate, you know?”

“That’s bad?”

“No. But it’s…not real.”

She blew out a breath. “Yeah, well, real life can really suck.”

He reached over and took her hand, eyes on the road. “Yep. It really can.”

She linked her fingers with his, tempted to let it go. That’s what they did. They let things go. She didn’t think about her worries or frustrations when she was with Gavin. He never asked either. They concentrated on the fun. But…come to think of it, he was maybe okay with the less than wonderful emotions.

“Do you ever have to put animals to sleep?” she asked.

He glanced over. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

“What do you say to the owners?”

He didn’t answer right away, but finally said, “Most of the owners out here are pretty tough.”

“But…” she prompted, knowing there was more.

“Once in a while it’s hard on them, of course. If their dog gets hit by a car or something.”

She nodded, watching him. “What do you say then?”

He cleared his throat. “I tell them that I don’t know what to say.”

She smiled. In that moment she wanted him. Badly.

He frowned at her smile. “What?”

“That’s a good answer.”

“That answer is terrible.”

“No.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s good. It’s honest and it shows that you know that it’s a big situation for them.”

He looked at her longer this time before returning his eyes to driving. “That would have been enough at your mom’s funeral?”

Allie closed her eyes, bracing for the wave of pain. A moment later, she opened them again. It had been more of a sharp twinge than a wave.

She thought about his question. “Nothing would have been enough,” she finally answered. “There’s nothing to say. Which makes your answer good.”

Neither of them spoke for nearly a minute. Then she asked, “Is that what you would have said to me?”

She could admit that she’d thought about it. Thought about having him there. How that would have felt. If it would have helped. She liked to think so, but they had no context for this serious, sad stuff.

His fingers tightened on hers briefly, and she wondered if he was even aware of it. “No, probably not,” he said, his voice gruff. “I would have taken one look at you and done what I did at your wedding.”