“So, Mabel, what do you think? You interested in a part-time job here?” He holds her door open for her.
“Yeah, I think so.” She matches her words with a nod. “This was fun.” She holds up her torn gloves—one, care of Tank, and the other, Airi. “Except for this.”
Tyler chuckles. “Yeah, I have a box full just like those in the house. Okay, come next Saturday at the same time?” With Mabel seated inside, he rounds the front of my truck to meet me on my side. “I think that’s going to work out well.”
“Yeah, they seemed to get along.” Reed taught her how to unharness the dogs and water them when we returned. She took to the tasks naturally.
“Hey, I heard there was something going on at the Ale House tonight.” His voice has shifted a notch to a softer, more inquisitive tone. “I’m going to take Reed. If he wants to get serious about competitive mushing next year, he needs to get out of this place and start meeting people.”
“Those nights are usually fun.”
“I’m sure he’d love it if you came.” He hesitates. “So would I.”
Thoughts of the last time Tyler and I met at the Ale House burn in my mind.
Why is he inviting me out again? Why is he saying these things to me? Is this still his attempt at friendship or has something changed? Has …
No, Marie, you can’t go down this road again. “I’m sorry, I have plans tonight.”
He bites his bottom lip, shifting his focus to nudging at the snow with his boot. “Are they legit plans? Or ‘I’m being polite but drop dead, Tyler’ plans?” His face cracks with a sexy, crooked smile. “Just for my own understanding.”
There’s humor in his tone, but I sense him holding his breath for my answer.
“Legit.” I hesitate. “I’m seeing someone, and we’re doing something tonight.” Taking a trip up to Talkeetna to meet his friend at the brew house.
Tyler’s brow furrows and I instantly regret being so truthful. “Right. Well, have a good night, then.” With a gentle pat on my hood, he backs up. “And thanks again for coming out.”
Nausea roils in my stomach as I climb into my truck and crank the engine.
Mabel frowns. “What’s wrong?”
I force a smile. “Nothing.”
And everything.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The faint, sweet scent of tobacco is in the air when I climb into Steve’s truck. Lingering, I assume, from the package of cigars near the heat vent. I don’t mind those as much as I mind cigarettes. Besides, he said he only smokes them occasionally.
“You look nice tonight.” His blue eyes crinkle as he leans across the console to greet me with a spearmint gum–laced kiss, his lips lingering longer than usual. The first time he kissed me, it was at my porch door at the end of our first date, and he asked beforehand. Since then, he’s grown bolder, and the lip locks have lasted longer. And I’ve been willing.
Now, though, I pull away.
“Hard day?” Steve deftly navigates his truck along my driveway and out to the road.
“Long day.” Spent lost in conflicted thoughts, battling the urge to cancel this date. I should have canceled, but then I’d be sitting at home, battling the urge to show up at the Ale House. I unfurl the knit scarf from around my neck. The truck is warm, and the drive to Talkeetna is almost an hour from my place. I may as well get comfortable.
“So … plans have changed,” he announces. “A bunch of my friends are meeting up in Trapper’s Crossing. There’s a big wing night happening out there, and I think it’ll be a good time. Plus, it’s a lot closer, and I’ve been up since four. I’m beat.” Steve reaches over to collect my hand. His skin is calloused, his thumb wrapped in a bandage to hide a gnarly cut—one that should have seen stitches. “You’re good with that, right?”
My stomach sinks. There’s only one place in Trapper’s Crossing he could be talking about. Am I good with showing up on one man’s arm while the man who’s dominating my thoughts sits across the room? No, of course I’m not good with this! But what am I supposed to say? What excuse do I give that doesn’t trigger questions?
“Marie?” Steve’s gaze darts between the road and me, his hand giving mine a squeeze.
“Yeah.” I clear the strain from my voice. “I’m good.”
If I’m lucky, maybe Tyler will have changed his mind about coming.
*
The blazing firepit to the right of the Ale House’s front entrance is new, and a popular addition judging by the ring of people huddled around it, savoring pints. Above them, festive strands of colorful Christmas lights hang in the canopy. They match the ones lining the long, narrow building’s roof that Muriel keeps up year round.