Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
We finish dressing in awkward silence, like two people who woke up next to last night’s drunken mistake and are attempting a swift exit.
He pulls on his knit cap. “Will you do rounds of the teams again?”
“Yeah, I’ll check them out to see how they’re holding up.” If I can read Tyler at all, he’ll go straight to his dogs with nothing more than a quick stop to the outhouse—or a snowbank—to relieve himself. “Do you want me to grab you a coffee? I’m sure there’s a fresh pot brewing.” It’s a guarantee. Karen’s militant volunteer schedule requires it.
“That would be great. Black, please.” His hand is on the zipper to the door when he stops. “And about earlier … I didn’t mean for that to happen—”
“It’s fine. You were asleep. And … confused.” And I let it go farther than I should have—I enjoyed it way too much.
His head turns halfway toward me, showing off the rigid line of his tense jaw. “Yeah.”
I hesitate, unsure how to word this. “Is there anyone who would be upset if they heard about it?” A girlfriend, or wife, who will accuse me of trying to move in on her territory? I’ve had enough of that.
He opens his mouth but then falters on his answer. “No. There’s no one.”
A wave of relief hits me, followed quickly by a surge of anticipation. Regardless of who he might have been saying those words to, Tyler’s just confirmed he’s single.
He pauses. “What about you? Am I gonna have someone showing up at my house, threatening to beat my ass?” He studies me over his shoulder, his expression oddly somber for his words.
“No, no one like that.”
His gaze drifts over my bundled form before settling on my face. “Good.”
Good that there’s no one—that I’m single—or good that he won’t have to deal with an angry boyfriend?
Tyler chuckles as I work through possible meaning in that single word, as if able to read my inner turmoil. “See you out there.” With that, he ducks out of the tent.
And I take a few minutes to calm my heart and my burgeoning hopes.
* * *
Steam rises from the paper cup as I trek along the path from the hut, my head lamp guiding my way through the darkness. It’s eerily quiet with only the odd crackle from the blazing firepit and my own boots crunching through the snow to keep me company. But Rick, the guy manning the kitchen while Karen rests, confirmed that along with the twenty or so volunteers on-site, sixty-seven dogs and their mushers are asleep here tonight. The next team is expected to arrive in a few hours with the dawn. Thankfully, Skip came and went, aiming to get to Ruby for his big rest and the cash prize.
The closer I get to the glowing light in the distance, the more the flutters in my stomach stir. I haven’t felt this sort of reaction to someone since … well, Jonah.
Tyler already has his cook pot going when I reach him. The dogs are up and stretching their legs as far as their lines will allow them, eager for their second soupy meal of kibble, meat, and broth, before they curl up for another eight-hour stretch of sleep. They’re the only ones who eat and sleep well during this race, the mushers and volunteers running ragged at their beck and call.
Tyler looks up at the last minute, his eyes far more alert now than they were in the tent, but still lined with bags. He accepts the coffee from my mittened grasp with his bare hands and a murmur of thanks. “Did you find Terry?”
“Yeah, he decided to let me sleep and then crashed in your old spot.” Rick confirmed that he went down right after the last check-in a few hours ago. “He likes an uncomfortably hot tent, too, so it’s a win-win for all of us.”
“He can spoon with Hatchett if he wants.” Tyler takes a long draw from his cup.
I can still feel those lips against my knuckles. And my mouth. “I doubt he’ll get as good a wake-up as I did, though.”
Tyler coughs on his coffee. “So that’s where we’re at? Joking about it already?”
I feel my cheeks flush. “What else are we supposed to do?”
“Good question.” A secretive smile disappears behind another sip.
What I would do to read his thoughts at this moment.
I shift my focus to one of his wheel dogs, straddling her body so I can stroke her front legs the way mushers often do, warming up and loosening her muscles. She thanks me with a swipe of her nose against my chin.
“You have a team?” Tyler asks, tearing open the bag of kibble and pouring it into the lined-up bowls.
“Of sled dogs?” I chuckle. “I can’t even commit to a goldfish, let alone a pile of dogs.”