“So, this Reed guy knows I don’t know anything about sled dogs, right? Like, he’s not going to be annoyed with me for asking stupid questions?” Mabel fidgets with the heat dial, adjusting it down. Between that and my radio, she’s been playing with the truck’s buttons and vents since I picked her up outside her house. I can’t tell if it’s nerves or just a subtle reminder that there’s still a kid in there.
“I highly doubt it. But he’s really shy, so if he doesn’t say much, don’t take it personally, okay? You can check things out, and if you want to work here on the weekends, I’ll let Tyler know.”
Smoke swirls from the chimney of the small, ranch-style house as I pull up behind the green truck. Reed sits by the barn next to a blazing fire in the outdoor firepit, stitching a gangline, his curly mop of hair covered in the same trapper hat he wore the first time I met him.
“That’s him?” Mabel frowns. “I thought he’d be older.”
“He’s twenty-one. Today, actually. Hence, this guy.” I pluck the gray puppy from Mabel’s clutches and tuck him inside my coat before hopping out of the truck, my arms wrapped around me to keep him secure. Still, the puppy squirms as we walk toward the barn, and I struggle not to laugh as I try to keep him contained.
Only Pope is running loose this morning, but the dogs howl and bark from their little houses, wanting to know who’s arrived.
“You’re up early!” I holler as we approach.
Reed’s big brown eyes dart between me and Mabel before frowning at the moving bulge in my chest.
“Got you something for your birthday.” I hoist the puppy out, adjusting the blue bow I fastened to its collar.
He drops the line and collects the writhing pup from my grip. He’s grinning, his dimples on display. “How old is he?”
“Only a few weeks younger than Nala’s puppies.”
Reeds lift him in the air, studying his face, much like Tyler did. As if he can see something that the rest of us can’t.
“I figured you can train them all together. See how he does. Maybe he’ll be a good runner.” Pope rolls over to show us his belly and waits for a scratch. “Or maybe he’ll be like him.” But either way, I know this dog will live a good life.
Reed’s mouth gapes as he searches for something to say. “Does Ty know?”
“He’s not Tyler’s dog. He’s yours.” And I may be an asshole for springing a puppy on them, but if there’s a place and people built for this kind of surprise, it’s here with these two.
“I have his brother,” Mabel offers. An attempt to forge a connection, perhaps, and she’s never been shy.
I tug off my glove and lean down to grant Pope’s wishes. His belly is warm beneath my bare fingertips. “Is Tyler in the barn?”
“No. He’s in the … house.” Reed pauses in his study of his birthday gift. “He said for you to meet him in there. I mean, in the house.”
“Really?” For all the times I’ve been here, I’ve only ever been in the barn. But … “Okay.”
Reed smiles as he ducks his head, his attention back on the new addition to the kennel.
I leave Mabel there and walk to the side door that the two of them always use. It creaks as I step into a galley kitchen with terra-cotta tiles and rustic wooden walls covered in cast-iron pans of various sizes. Beyond is a long, narrow table against the bank of windows overlooking the property, and a corner closed off by gates, where I assume Nala and her puppies sleep at night. I smile at the collection of large dog beds that litter the floor, creating an obstacle course. The dogs may have their homes outside, but it’s clear they have one in here, too.
I’m about to announce myself when Tyler’s deep voice calls out from another room in the house.
“Hey, come here for a sec?”
My stomach tenses at the sound of his beckon. I take a calming breath while I shed my snow-covered boots and then weave through the kitchen and around to the living room. Hardwood scratched up by countless paws groans beneath my socked feet.
“Marie should be here soon. I haven’t told her about—”
Tyler freezes midsentence when he looks up to find me standing at the threshold, my mouth gaping as he slides on a pair of briefs. The towel he dropped is heaped on the floor, the couch covered with spilled laundry that he’s obviously washed but not folded.
Surprise is painted across his face. “I thought you were Reed.”