“Gee.” Tyler’s voice is barely above conversational level and yet the dogs veer right on the groomed path ahead, working in tandem. There’s nothing to hear but the soft crunch beneath the sled’s runners and forty paws as the ten dogs run the trail through trees and brush, and we glide across the snow.
I look up from my seat in the sled’s basket to find Tyler standing over me, grinning smugly.
Despite the turmoil churning inside me, this moment is oddly peaceful.
“Whoa,” he calls out, dropping the snow hook to stop the dogs and anchor us. The team is happy for the pause so they can test their lines and pee on the nearby brush.
I climb out to stretch my legs. My cheeks and nose are numb from the cold air, and I wish I’d worn a different scarf. We haven’t gone far—maybe a mile or two—but we’re deep within the trees of Tyler’s property. Ahead is the river, and beyond that the mountain range. Somewhere to the right of us are Harry’s seventy-five dogs.
But out here, it feels like we’re alone.
“So? What do you think?” Tyler asks, watching me as I edge along the path toward the front.
Dropping to my knees beside Nymeria, I tuck my gloves inside my coat to keep from Tank’s nipping teeth. I check her joints and muscles with my fingers, searching for any tenderness or other warning signs. I can’t find anything.
“Hey, girl. You want to do this?” I murmur.
She answers with a hot lick across my cheek.
I settle on my haunches. “Officially, I think you’re nuts, Tyler. You do realize how risky this is, right? You want to race a stolen dog in the Iditarod. As the returning champion. There will be pictures of her all over the paper and the news.” Which Zed will surely see, as will his nephew Jody and countless others.
He cocks his head. “Come on, Marie. She’s a beautiful dog, but she’s not that distinctive.”
I mock gasp and playfully cover her ears. “Don’t listen to him!” But he’s right. Heterochromia is common in huskies. And Zed is likely arrogant enough to believe that if she wouldn’t run for him, she’d never run for anyone else.
Tyler chuckles as he helps two of the dogs untangle themselves from their line. “Seriously, though, she wasn’t chipped before, so there’s no proof that way. And you have to admit—she’s a different dog from the one you met last January.”
I stroke her fur. “She is.”
She’s a different dog.
He’s a different man.
What am I, besides the same old Marie?
I stand and move back toward the sled. “It’s hard to see her gait from the basket when she’s up front.” Harry always took me out in a tour sled that could accommodate two people standing. “But she obviously has the enthusiasm and the drive, and the temperament. If you can get her physically ready, then … I don’t see why she can’t do it, if she wants to.” I steal another glance to see Nymeria and Tank brush up against each other. She seems happy.
Tyler lets out a deep exhale, as if he’s been waiting for my verdict. “Well, wait, if you can’t see her like that, then you should stand.” He hooks his hand on my elbow and gently tugs me toward him. “Come on, we can both fit.”
“I don’t know—”
“Trust me. I used to do this with Mila all the time.”
It has nothing to do with trusting Tyler and everything to do with being this close to him again. Unable to find an excuse I’m comfortable using, I step onto the footboards and take hold of the handlebar with gloved hands. Tyler settles in behind me, his toes at my heels, his body snug behind mine.
He cages me in with his arms as he seizes the handlebar. “You ready?”
He’s asking me, but the dogs hear the command and begin to bark and tug against their lines, earning his chuckle. He releases the hook, and we take off in a jolt. Tyler’s muscles tense to hold us in place. After a moment, he leans in and whispers into my ear, “See? I told you it would work.”
A shiver runs down my spine.
I do my best to focus on the gaits of the dogs ahead and ignore the strong, hard torso pressed against my back, the way his beard scratches my skin every so often as our bodies bump and his jaw brushes across my cheek.
We follow the trail around a loop in silence and then meet up with our tracks from earlier, hinting that we’re already heading back toward the house.
“By the way, how is everything going at the clinic?”
I know what he’s really asking: How is everything at the clinic now that I’ve lost the income from both Harry and Tyler’s business?