His head swivels.
Today’s bleakness can’t dampen the energy that surges through my limbs as I watch his sleek figure move toward me, clad in blue jeans and a soft gray shirt that stretches across his chest and shoulders, the collar framing his columnar neck.
When I’m with you, I forget about everything else. You make me feel like myself again.
The closer he gets, the harder my heart beats. I haven’t been able to dismiss his words, and they’ve kindled a heady anticipation that now burns inside me, no matter how hard I try to douse it. “Hey. I saw you through the window.” My breathing is a touch ragged by the time our paths meet. “Is something wrong?”
His eyes glow with soft amusement. “You always ask me that when you see me.”
“That’s because when we see each other, something usually is wrong.” If I rifle back through our run-ins—a heated accusation of animal neglect, a downed musher, an unexpected encounter with a bitter ex, a maimed dog, a pregnant dog in peril—every single one has been marked with trouble.
“Fair enough. Nothing’s wrong this time.” His attention roves over my joggers and sweatshirt, and I silently curse myself for not dressing better today.
Car doors slam behind me. I turn to see Jim and Tillie heading hand-in-hand for the front door, Tillie skipping beside him. She is a daddy’s girl, through and through. Meanwhile, Liz is helping Nicole down from the back seat of their new extended cab pickup. Jim may be frugal, but ironically, he’s always eager to open his wallet when the purchase involves a motor. In this case, he rationalized it because, with the baby coming, they needed a bigger vehicle. The baby’s not due for many months, and an SUV or minivan would have made far more sense for three children, but he’ll find an argument to counter that logic.
My sister is hiding her bloated belly behind a bulky sweater and leggings.
“Looks like I came at a bad time?”
“No, it’s fine. That’s just my sister and her family. We get together on Sundays for dinner.” And Liz, still annoyed with my part in convincing Vicki and Oliver to move home, mostly ignores me, aside from a subtle dig here and there.
“Every Sunday?”
“Pretty much.”
A pensive expression touches his striking face. “I just came here to give you this.” Digging into his jeans pocket, he produces a key and holds it out for me. “It’s for the lock on the new gate. I figure it’s cheaper if I give you access to my property.”
I laugh as I accept it from him, his thumb grazing mine in the process. “This could have waited until tomorrow.”
“It could have.” He bites his bottom lip. I wish I could read the thoughts behind that look.
You make me feel like myself again.
Is that why he’s here, now?
I’m about to ask how Reed is when a clown horn blasts, breaking the staring contest.
We shift our attention to the UTV puttering down the path, my white-haired father behind the wheel, his cast-wrapped leg sticking out the open door. All three dogs trot alongside him.
Tyler smiles. “Good to see that leg isn’t slowing him any.”
“His doctor wouldn’t agree.” Dad must have moved quickly after I left, to have made his way out the door and into that seat. What kind of mischief is the stubborn old man up to now?
I guess I’m about to find out.
“This is what I call service, the park ranger coming to check on his rescue,” Dad bellows. “Hello there, Tyler Brady!”
Tyler breaks into a wide grin, accentuated by two dimples deep in his cheeks. “Good to see you, sir.”
“Don’t ‘sir’ me. Call me Sidney. Or Sid. Or Dr. Lehr.”
Yukon and Bentley reach Tyler at the same time and set to sniffing his jeans, no doubt picking up the scent of his kennel on his clothes. As usual, Aurora hangs back, watching warily from a distance.
Tyler gives each of them a hand to sniff before weaving his fingers through their fur coats. “I wanted to drop something off for Marie. I didn’t mean to interrupt your family time.”
“You’re not! In fact, I came out to ask you to join us.”
I spear my father with a stare.
But he continues, deftly ignoring me. “Normally, we have pot roast on Sundays, but we’ve got two pregnant women in there. The smell of beef is turning Vicki’s stomach right now, and Liz says she can’t handle pork, so honestly, I’m not sure what the hell we’re eating tonight.”
“Mom made chicken, Dad,” I say dryly.