“Sounds like someone else I know,” he murmurs, his arm around me squeezing.
I laugh. “You don’t know me well enough to start poking at my shortcomings.”
“That’s the thing I like about getting older. It takes way less time to figure people out.” Even at our slow pace, we’ve reached my porch too soon.
“So, this is the place Jim wants to evict you from?”
“It is.” I hesitate, but a yawning need aches inside me. “Do you want to come inside?”
He seems to consider that. “It’s better I don’t. Things will get out of hand too fast.”
Would that be so bad? I’m not ready to say good night yet. “By the way, the interview? With Bill?”
“Your dad is a hard man to say no to.” He slips his arm off me, turning to lean against my porch post, his hands sliding into his pockets. “But he’s right. The sport could use some positive attention, and I think my kennel and my dogs can do that. With your help, because I hate anything to do with the media.”
“I’m not sure you want me there.”
“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my vet, and an Iditarod trail vet.”
“And I have a lot of issues with the industry, with the laws, and all the money tied to the sport.” I guess this conversation needs to happen, eventually. I just don’t know how Tyler will react, given how firmly entrenched he is in this world. “I may have grown up in Alaska, around all this, but I struggle with it. I see dogs like yours, who are cared for better than a lot of the house pets that come into my clinic, and I feel the energy and excitement of the dogs on the trail. But then I see dogs like Aurora, and Nymeria who was owned by a champion musher—”
“I already know where your head’s at, Marie. I knew that first day when you showed up at my place. And we share the same issues. Haven’t you figured that out yet? Hell, I snuck onto a man’s property and stole his dog. I would have taken them all if I could.” His chuckle is without mirth. “Before I met Mila, I didn’t know much about this world, besides what I’d seen on the news. Then I moved to Finland and started living in it, and I saw a whole other side.
“That first snowfall, when I bust out the sled?” He shakes his head. “No one can see how those dogs react and actually believe they’re not living their best lives. But I’m no idiot, and I don’t have blinders on, and I’m not going to pretend there aren’t shitty people out there and things that don’t need to change. People like Zed Snyder shouldn’t be anywhere near this sport or these dogs. You can say whatever the hell you want during that interview, and I’ll back you up.” He frowns, and I sense disappointment. “I’m surprised you’d even doubt that.”
“It’s not that I doubted it. It’s just …” I guess I needed to hear it. “How do you always say the right things to me?”
He smiles. “Do I?”
They’re the things that pull me in deeper every time. Deeper, and closer to admitting that I’m falling in love with this man who casually leans against my little cabin as if he hasn’t so thoroughly invaded my life and my thoughts.
Can he see that as plainly as I can?
Slipping a hand from his pocket, he holds it out, palm up.
Beckoning me.
I slide mine into it without hesitation, allowing him to pull me closer.
His expression softens as his eyes roam my face, lingering on my mouth. “You know, I never expected this to happen.”
“Neither did I.” I’d all but given up on it.
I’m waiting for him to lean in to kiss me, but he reaches for the screen door instead, leading me inside.
The surge of expectation in the air is palpable as I step out of my muddy boots and into my little home. I pull the chain on a nearby lamp for some light. “It’s a bit of a mess.” I wasn’t expecting company. There are dishes in the sink and a hamper of laundry that I hauled to and from my parents’ earlier.
He surveys the cozy space, his attention slowing on my bed. At least I washed the sheets and remade it. “It’s just like you.”
“Are you calling me an old, messy shack in the woods, Tyler?”
He’s about four inches taller than I am, but it seems like more as he closes the distance, herding me until my back settles against the wall. An oddly somber expression comes over his face.
My heart pounds as he reaches up to stroke a strand of hair off my cheek, tucking it behind my ear, the touch sending a shiver skittering over my skin.