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)
“Yeah, maybe.” His lips purse, as if weighing the possibilities.
Ten minutes later, a truck door slams outside the barn, and a chorus of dogs howl in greeting. Footfalls approach in a rush.
My blood pulses in my ears just at the anticipation of seeing Tyler again.
The door creaks open, and he pokes his head in cautiously. His eyes go first to Nala and then to the suckling puppies, and then to me, on the floor, my legs stretched out, my rain boots crossed at the ankles. He’s still in uniform, though missing the vest. His pant legs are soaked from the rain. An odd mix of relief and panic fills his face.
“Where’s Reed?” he asks as he pushes the door farther open until it bumps into Reed’s leg, matching my position but against the other wall. “There you are.” He studies his brother-in-law’s face a moment, and they seem to share unspoken words before he asks, “You good?”
Reed hesitates but then nods.
Nala hears Tyler’s voice, and her tail swishes in greeting.
“Hey, girl.” He eases in and shuts the door behind him, then settles between me and her.
I shift over to give him room, but there isn’t much to give, and we end up sitting side by side, our shoulders pressed against each other.
“You did good,” he murmurs.
She rests her cheek on his palm and watches him through tired eyes.
With a heavy sigh, he leans back against the wall beside me. “I was out looking for a lost hiker all day. I didn’t get any of your messages until I drove to a signal spot.”
“Did you find her? The hiker?” Reed asks.
“Yeah. She got chased off a trail by a bear and couldn’t find her way back, but she’s fine.”
Reed hoists himself up. “I’m gonna go check on everyone else.” He stalls at the door as he brushes his hair aside. “See you around, Marie.”
“Soon enough, I’m sure.” I smile at his retreating back until the door is shut tight, keeping the damp air out.
But Tyler’s not smiling. “We knew when I left this morning that she was going to have them. I was going to call in sick, but Reed said he could manage it. I shouldn’t have left him here alone like that. I’m an idiot.” His jaw is taut with tension.
“He did manage it. He called me, which is exactly what he should have done.” I’m not going to point out how panicked Reed sounded on the phone. “It’s what you would have had to do even if you’d been here.”
“Yeah, I guess. Still, I should’ve been there. He shouldn’t have had to do that alone.” He studies the small room we’re in. “I’m starting to feel guilty about him being by himself like this all summer. It can’t be good for him.”
“It’s only until you’re off for the season. And then you’ll be together for, what, seven months straight?” Minus the two weeks Tyler’s running the Iditarod. As I study the man’s handsome profile, I’m suddenly envious of a twenty-year-old boy.
“He’ll be sick of me by the end.” Tyler smirks. “I was thinking of hiring another handler. Give Reed a chance to make a friend or two. Maybe there’s an eager kid who wants to earn some extra cash.”
“I’ll keep an ear out for someone like that.” From the other side of the door, I hear a snuffling and then a soft whine.
“It’s Tank,” Tyler says. “He doesn’t like being away from Nala for too long. But he can stay out there. He’s already caused enough trouble.” Tyler watches the puppies for a moment before his head falls back against the barn wall, angling toward me. “Thank you.”
“Of course. It’s what I’m here for, right?” Under the dim lights, amplified by a glow from the heat lamp, Tyler’s features are somehow more alluring. I admire the shape of his lips and the cut of his jaw, the way his dark ash-brown hair rests in a slight wave.
He watches me studying him, and the sudden vulnerability in his expression brings me back to those stolen, intimate moments in my truck at the Ale House. Will that ever happen again? For a guy who doesn’t want to complicate his life, he has quite the track record of unintentional kissing.
And for a thirty-eight-year-old woman who doesn’t want to get hung up on false hope again, I seem to keep wading in deeper.
“What’s that look for?” he asks, his head tipped at just the perfect angle to lean in and kiss me.
I have to turn away before he reads my thoughts. Thoughts that don’t fit the label of friendship or business under any circumstance. “I should get going. I was supposed to be at Jed Carling’s place hours ago.”
“By the way, I’d say you’ve topped your first visit here with your entrance.”
I struggle to keep from smiling.