Читать книгу Alaskan Hearts - Teri Wilson, Teri Wilson - Страница 12

Chapter Four

Ben slept in fits and spent most of the night tangled in his bedsheets. Every time he flipped over or pounded his fist into his pillow, Kodiak sighed and crept closer to the foot of the hotel bed. When Ben at last gave up, propped himself against the headboard and aimed the remote control at the room’s small television, Kodiak hopped off the bed altogether and settled in a ball on the floor.

Ben cast him a sympathetic glance. “Sorry, bud.”

He knew he shouldn’t feel sorry for the husky. Kodiak was a sled dog. Not too many years had passed since he slept outside, on a bed of straw, surrounded by the other members of Ben’s dog team. Ben himself sometimes slept alongside them, wrapped in a thermal sleeping bag.

He’d never been the type of musher to leave his dogs unattended when they were out on the trail.

The television droned in the background, capturing his attention, exactly as he’d hoped it would. He stared at the flickering images of herds of wild musk oxen. With their woolly coats and curved horns, they looked almost prehistoric, even to a lifelong Alaskan like himself.

He’d landed on the hotel’s special Alaskan channel. Designed for tourists, it played a continuous loop of educational programming about the state’s history and wildlife. He supposed it was as good a channel as any. Maybe it would bore him to sleep.

Unlikely, with the thoughts that had kept him awake much of the night still tormenting him. Thoughts very un-Alaskan in nature.

Thoughts of Clementine Phillips.

Specifically, thoughts of her shoes.

She wouldn’t last half a minute as a dog handler in those glorified bedroom slippers. Once she grabbed hold of the gang line and felt the power of the dog team, her feet would slide right out from under her. If she was really intent on her plans—and it looked as though no amount of lecturing on Ben’s part would stop her—he was going to have to do something about those shoes.

Stay out of it. This isn’t your problem.

Clementine was a tourist. Whether she slid down the chute on her backside shouldn’t mean a thing to Ben. By this time next week, she would be gone.

Then why can’t I stop thinking about her?

Ben hadn’t given a second thought to romance in as long as he could remember. In his mushing days, there simply hadn’t been time. And since then, he’d walked around in a perpetual state of numbness, as though the frostbite in his hands on that long-ago night had somehow found its way to his heart.

Even if he did want to start a relationship with someone, it certainly wouldn’t be with a tourist who believed God had sent her here on some kind of divine adventure mission. Her unabashed thirst for life was alarming enough, even without the mention of the God who Ben had done his best to forget over the past four years.

So, he told himself, his concern for Clementine had nothing to do with romance. Thoughts of that nature would never have entered his mind if she hadn’t told him about her former fiancé—a complete idiot, in Ben’s opinion.

He pushed from his mind the image of her laughing, with snow clinging to the ringlets surrounding her face. He refused to think about her emerald eyes. Or the way her warm smile seemed to melt the block of ice surrounding his heart.

Instead, he focused on the shoes.

The shoes he could deal with.

* * *

Clementine almost didn’t hear her cell phone ringing, even though she’d been awake for at least an hour. After her morning devotional, she’d become mesmerized by a television show about musk oxen.

In honor of her trip, she’d changed her ring tone to barking dogs. This was, perhaps, not the best idea when traveling to a destination packed with happy, barking huskies. Already, she could hear dogs outside, howling for their breakfast.

She realized she must be getting a call when Nugget cocked her head and yapped at the cell phone, perched on the edge of the night table.

“Here, baby.” Clementine handed Nugget the moose-shaped dog toy she’d picked up in the lobby gift shop.

With her dog appeased, she picked up the cell phone. Fully prepared to see the familiar Nature World phone number on the screen, she cleared her throat and tried to remember the state of the papers strewn about her cubicle.

But the call wasn’t from her office. An unfamiliar number, preceded by the 907 Aurora area code, flashed on the screen.

“Hello?” she answered, as she gave Nugget’s moose toy a gentle tug.

“Hi, is this Clementine?” That rugged voice could only belong to one person.

She sat up straighter and abandoned the game of tug-of-war with her dog. “Yes.”

“This is Ben Grayson.” He cleared his throat and added, “You know, Kodiak’s dad.”

She knew, of course, exactly who Ben Grayson was. But his embellishment brought a smile to her lips. “Good morning, Ben.”

“I hope you don’t mind that I’m calling. I got your number from the race volunteer directory.”

“I don’t mind.” The way her heartbeat kicked up a notch told her this was an understatement.

“I was wondering…” Ben paused and Clementine held her breath, wondering if he was going to ask her out again.

She’d enjoyed their coffee date. And the bittersweet look on his face when he’d spoken about starting over told her there was more to Ben than met the eye. The possibility of getting to know him better intrigued her. Probably more than it should have, considering she had only a handful of days to spend in Alaska. Not to mention the fact that she wasn’t remotely ready for any kind of romantic relationship.

“Are you busy this morning?”

Clementine tightened her grip on her cell phone. “I have my dog handling class this afternoon, but I’m free until then.”

Her mind raced with possibilities of what he might be thinking. Something adventurous probably. Snowshoeing? Or maybe a nice, scenic drive through the mountains. She’d heard there was a glacier nearby.

Then, in his manly tone that made Clementine picture a mountain man on the other end of the line, he asked, “How would you like to do some shopping?”

Shopping? Her gaze flitted to the ceiling. Lord, is he serious?

Before she had a chance to answer, Ben sighed. “I’ll be honest. I have an ulterior motive.”

Clementine furrowed her brow and gathered Nugget, complete with moose, in her lap. This was not sounding good. “What would that be exactly?”

“If you’re going to handle dogs at the start of the race, you need some better shoes. It’s a matter of safety.”

“You’re concerned for my safety?” Oh no, not again. At least he’d abandoned the foot lotion idea. It was progress. Sort of.

“Yes. I was thinking about it earlier and I’d like to help.”

“You were thinking about me?” She knew she shouldn’t have blurted it out like that, but she couldn’t resist. Sort of like the snowball she’d thrown at his head.

He was silent for a moment. “I guess I was,” he finally admitted, although he didn’t sound remotely pleased about it.

Clementine wondered if the invitation was really part of some elaborate conspiracy to drag her into the world of foot lotion, or maybe even to keep her away from the hotel long enough to miss her dog handling class. Well, she wasn’t about to fall for such trickery. She opened her mouth with every intention of saying no.

Instead she found herself saying, “Shopping sounds great.”

* * *

They met in the lobby an hour later, with Kodiak and Nugget in tow. Ben ordered two flavored coffees with extra whipped cream without any prompting from Clementine.

“You remembered.” She smiled as he handed her a cup of turtle caramel latte, the special of the day.

“I’ve never heard anyone order coffee with extra whip. It’s kind of hard to forget.” He looked down at his own cup, towering with a giant dollop of whipped cream. “Especially after I tasted it for myself.”

She sipped her drink. She wouldn’t have believed it could taste better than the toasted marshmallow coffee the day before, but it did. “Mmm. This one tastes like a candy bar.”

“Candy bar for breakfast. I aim to please.” His lips hitched into a grin.

Clementine could see his dimples, winking at her, through his beard. “Have you always had a beard? It seems as though everyone here has one.”

Ben ran his free hand over his strong jawline as they walked toward the revolving doors. “I guess I’ve had it for most of my adult life. This is short, though. It barely qualifies.”

“Look at that one.” She pointed to a Gold Rush Trail poster, propped on an easel by the registration desk. The poster featured a close-up photograph of a musher with a thick, heavy beard, dripping with icicles. “Beards must be an Alaskan thing.”

“Actually, they’re more of a keeping-warm thing.” Ben gave the poster an almost wistful once-over before looking back down at his coffee.

“Does it work?”

“The beard?” He laughed. “I guess you could say it does.”

Ben pushed the door open for her and she stepped outside. The cold air bit at her nose and her teeth chattered.

“Maybe I should try growing one, although I’m not sure I could pull it off.” She lifted her chin. “What do you think?”

He reached toward her and cupped her chin with a gentle graze of his fingertips. “I think you look beautiful just the way you are.”

His hand was rough, masculine. Clementine grew instantly warm despite the snow flurries swirling in the wind. In fact, she experienced an almost-melting sensation in her limbs. “So no beard, then?”

Ben frowned and pulled away so quickly that Clementine wondered if she had only just imagined the unexpected tenderness of the moment. “No beard.”

The pleasant warmth coursing through her cooled. For that, Clementine was grateful. Falling for Ben Grayson wasn’t part of her plan for her trip to Alaska. She took a step and fell—literally—into Ben’s solid chest.

“Here, hold on to me.” Ben hitched her dog carrier farther up on her shoulder before tucking her arm through his. “Let’s go get you some new shoes.”

They walked arm-in-arm through the streets of downtown Aurora, sipping their coffee, with Kodiak trotting out in front. A comfortable silence settled between them. Every so often, Clementine sneaked a look at Ben. Once or twice, she found him watching her as well.

His words resonated in her mind. I think you look beautiful just the way you are. And she realized she felt beautiful. She wondered if it was because she’d finally come to the realization that God wanted more for her life. Or maybe it had something to do with the man walking beside her. She couldn’t be sure, but she preferred the first option.

“Here we are.” Ben patted her arm and pulled her to a halt. Kodiak paused as well and looked back at them. “Are you ready to try on some shoes?”

Clementine took in the yellow Army Surplus sign in the shop window in front of her, as well as the mannequins dressed in army fatigues. She looked down at her own faux fur-trimmed parka and glanced back at Ben. “You’re joking, right?”

“Trust me.”

She eyed the sly smile on his well-formed lips with suspicion. “It’s hard to trust you when you’re smirking.”

“I’m not smirking,” he said with a smirk.

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it. You just look so traumatized at the idea of shopping here.” His smirk morphed into an ear-splitting grin.

Maybe he really was joking after all. “So we’re going somewhere else?”

“Nope.” His lips twitched, obviously in an effort to keep a straight face. “Trust me. Your feet will stay warm and you’ll stop slipping and sliding all over the place.”

“Okay.” She sighed and cast a fond farewell glance toward her pink boots, although she had to admit they weren’t at all practical. Ben was right. She’d never be able to handle sled dogs—or much else, for that matter—in these shoes.

They tossed their empty coffee cups in the trash can outside. Ben gave Kodiak a down command and ordered him to stay put. The husky watched with his warm gold eyes as Ben led Clementine into the store with a protective hand on her elbow.

He ushered her to the front counter where a bored-looking young man glanced up at them from his newspaper. “Can I help you?”

“You sure can.” Ben smiled, his dimples flashed and he looked a bit too pleased for Clementine’s taste.

Trust him.

He slid his gaze toward Clementine and winked.

The wink floated through her, like a snowflake on a soft breeze.

Then Ben turned his attention back toward the sales clerk. “We need some bunny boots.”

* * *

“Did you say bunny boots?” Clementine’s voice rose an octave, her eyes glimmered with surprise and she glanced down at Nugget, snoozing away in the confines of her dog carrier.

Where, no doubt, the dog’s pint-sized paws were encased in those crazy bunny slippers.

“Don’t get too excited.” Her delighted reaction caused a definite stir in Ben’s heart. “They don’t have ears.”

“I didn’t think they had ears.” Her cheeks took on a pleasant rosy hue.

Ben wasn’t sure he believed her. Ears or not, she willingly gave the kid behind the counter her size. While he disappeared to the stockroom, Clementine shrugged out of her parka and situated herself on a bench. Once Nugget’s dog carrier was settled next to her feet, she removed her pink suede slippers. Ben couldn’t help but notice her socks were pink as well.

Of course.

All the while, Ben watched her, counting the seconds and waiting for her to break.

One…two…three.

“Okay, I’ll bite.” She threw her hands up. “What are bunny boots?”

Ben raised his brows in appreciation. “Three seconds. Wow, you held out longer than I expected.”

“I’m a pretty patient person.”

“Good.” He nodded. “That will serve you well later on this afternoon at your handling class.”

She narrowed her gaze at him, but he could see the slight flicker of nerves cross her features. Good. He hoped she was nervous. Nervous enough to skip the class and give the paw ointment proposition a fair amount of consideration.

Her glare intensified. “Are you going to tell me or not?”

Maybe she wasn’t nervous. It must have been wishful thinking on his part. “They aren’t actually called bunny boots. That’s just a widely used nickname.”

“For?”

“For extreme cold weather vapor boots. They were originally designed by the army for military use.” He nodded toward the fatigue-clad mannequins in the window.

“Hence the army surplus store.”

“They’re quite popular now among civilians, here and in other arctic regions. Mushers wear them all the time. Nothing on earth will keep your feet warmer.”

She lit up again, obviously pleased at the prospect of fitting in with the mushing world. “So how did they get their nickname?”

“Have you ever heard of the snowshoe rabbit?” He doubted it. The rabbit wasn’t a common resident of the Lower Forty-Eight. And he was certain one had never set foot—or was it paw?—as far south as Texas.

Foot. Rabbits have feet. Not paws.

Good grief, he was already starting to sound like her.

He allowed himself a moment to look at her—really look—and let his gaze see past the mass of curls dusted with a fine layer of snow, the dainty, upturned nose reddened from the cold, and the ladylike way she crossed her feet at the ankles. Instead, he took in the fiery sparkle in her luminous green eyes. Even though he’d known her only a few short days, he knew exactly what that expression meant.

For Clementine Phillips, this trip was no ordinary vacation. She was in Alaska looking for a life-changing adventure.

Ben couldn’t say why, but he’d taken it upon himself to make sure whatever adventure she managed to find was life-changing, not life-ending. The bears might be hibernating, but Alaska was full of other dangers she knew nothing about.

Ben’s sleepless night had convinced him he couldn’t leave her to her own devices. He hadn’t a clue how he would do it, but he would make sure she left the state in one, uninjured piece. The reasons behind this decision were purely selfish—he was looking for absolution.

He couldn’t change the past, but maybe he could somehow change the future.

She grinned at him and let one of her pink slippers dangle from her toe. The sparkle in those wide eyes intensified, and Ben’s temple throbbed.

Clearly he had his work cut out for him.

“Actually, I know all about snowshoe rabbits.” She raised a brow at him, and a proud gleam took the place of the dangerous twinkle in her eyes.