by Teri Wilson
“No, you’re not.” He held out his hands, and a few of them fell toward his open palms. “This is diamond dust.”
“Diamond dust?” She wasn’t sure what he meant, but it sounded every bit as good as stars. Even better maybe.
“Diamond dust.” He nodded. “We’re in a cloud of tiny ice crystals. It happens here sometimes.”
“Oh.” A furious flush settled in the vicinity of her cheeks. “So you’re not responsible for this?”
“I can’t take credit for it.” He winked. “But I certainly appreciate the assumption.”
She narrowed her gaze at him, and the look in his eyes turned soft, tender. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. All around them, the air glittered. The beauty of it stole the breath from her lungs, and she burrowed deeper into his embrace.
Diamond dust.
He could call it whatever he wanted. As far as Clementine was concerned, Ben had kissed her and she saw stars.
As thrilling as it was, it scared the life out of her. She barely knew Ben Grayson. She couldn’t start a relationship with him. She’d known Mark her whole life and look what a mess that had become. Ben was practically a stranger. She didn’t want to fall for him and risk her heart again. Not now. Not when she finally had the gumption to go after what she wanted.
That being said, he was making it awfully difficult.
“Ben Grayson,” she whispered into his shoulder, “who are you?”
He drew back and gazed into her eyes. “I’m the one…the man who’s going to teach you how to mush a dog team.”
Her heart did a little flip-flop. She glanced at the square doghouses tucked among the trees. “Now?”
“Now.” He grinned. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
“Not on your life.”
“Your chariot awaits.” He released her from the embrace, somewhat reluctantly if the look on his face was any indication.
Clementine’s pulse quickened as he took her hand and led her toward the dog yard. The doghouses, with their bright red paint, looked like giant holly berries nestled in the frosty ground. Between them, tall evergreens stretched toward the sky, their boughs heavy with thick blankets of snow. She inhaled a lungful of pine-scented air.
“I can’t believe you live here. Any minute I expect to see Rudolph drop from the sky.”
“Again with Rudolph.” Ben shook his head. “What is your fascination with him? There are other reindeer, you know.”
She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Jealous?”
“Of a reindeer?” He snorted. “I don’t think so.”
“I think you are. He has a shiny red nose. And he’s the lead reindeer.”
“But if you kissed him, would you see stars?” The corner of his mouth lifted, drawing all of Clementine’s attention to his dimples.
She laughed. “Touché. You’ve got it all over Rudolph.”
One by one, they hooked the dogs up to the sled, which Ben secured with a heavy anchor device he called the ice hook. Thanks to her sled dog training, Clementine could actually pitch in and help get everything ready. Ben explained they would be using six dogs, which was plenty for recreational mushing. Big teams of sixteen, like the ones in the Gold Rush Trail, were typically only used for racing.
Clementine snapped the neck line to the halter of a pale gray husky in one of the lead dog positions at the very front. The dog would be running double lead, alongside Kodiak.
She wondered where the rest of the dogs came from. Something told her they weren’t Ben’s, but she decided to cut him some slack and stop asking unnecessary questions. Then again, if she did, maybe he would quiet her with another kiss.
Thankfully, he filled her in without her having to ask. “These guys belong to a friend of mine. Reggie Chase. He’s mushing in the race, but these are his second-string dogs.”
He ran his hand along the length of the gang line, double-checking every hook and lead along the way. As Clementine followed, her gaze flitted back to the dog yard, empty now that the dogs had been hooked up to the sled. She tried to imagine Ben here alone, looking out over all those cheery red doghouses, vacant and barren. Just the thought of it made her heart hurt. She longed to ask him why he apparently no longer mushed, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment.
Later. I’ll ask him later.
“You ready to go for a ride?” he asked, and a shiver ran up her spine.
“I am.”
“Okay. Hop up here on the sled runners.” He helped get her feet situated, one on each runner, and placed her hands about shoulder-width apart on the drive bow.
And suddenly, she was nervous.
She couldn’t even remember the command for go. Was it giddyup? No. That worked on horses. Hike. Yes, that was it. Hike.
Oh Lord, what if I get miles away and I panic?
She glanced at Ben over her shoulder. “You’re not staying behind are you?”
“No.” His jaw clenched, as if the very idea caused him physical pain. Clementine found it oddly comforting.
Then, instead of walking to the front of the sled and situating himself in the basket as she’d expected, he stepped up onto the runners directly behind her. His arms, big and strong, wrapped around her shoulders and he held on to the drive bow with his hands next to hers. Clementine’s head tucked neatly against his shoulder.
He bent his head and said in a low voice, “I was planning on riding back here, if that’s okay with you.”
Something told her this was most definitely not the way Aidan would have taught her how to mush. “It’s wonderful, actually. You’re like a big, warm blanket.”
He chuckled behind her and his breath tickled the back of her neck. “I’m ready when you are. I’ve already released the ice hook. Just remember to step on the brake if you want to slow down. I’m right here if you need any help.”
She tightened her grip on the drive bow, took a deep breath and shouted, “Hike.”
The dogs sprang into action as if they’d been waiting their entire lives to hear that one syllable. All barking ceased and their paws scrambled for footing in the deep snow. Clementine let out a little yelp and held on tight as the sled bounced into action.
Then Ben’s voice was suddenly in her ear, sounding strong and reassuring. “Don’t worry. The ride will get much smoother in a minute.”
And he was right. It took a few beats for the dogs to find their rhythm, but before a full sixty seconds passed, they were moving in perfect harmony. Even their tails wagged in unison.
“I’m doing it. I’m really doing it,” Clementine called over her shoulder.
“You sure are. This trail makes a big loop through the trees surrounding my property. The dogs should stay put, but you know what to do if they get off track. Gee for right and Haw for left.”
“Got it.”
At first, Ben’s closeness was somewhat of a distraction. A very pleasant distraction. She wasn’t sure if she knew up from down, much less a gee from a haw. She worried the dogs would run headfirst into a tree and she wouldn’t even notice.
But the more ground they covered, the more she relaxed. Not that she would have been able to do otherwise. The sun dipped below the horizon, bathing the trail in soft hues of purple and blue that took her breath away. The deeper they traveled into the forest, the quieter the world became. She heard nothing but the gentle footfalls of the dogs and the soft swish of the sled moving through the snow. Even though they were moving, she felt as if she was suspended in a moment of perfect stillness. She sank against Ben’s chest and thought this was perhaps the most peaceful and enchanting instant of her life.
Thank You, God.
She glanced up at the velvet sky. The stars in Alaska were bigger and brighter th
an she’d ever seen before. And in this quiet moment, she thought they just might be shining for her and Ben alone.
With her gaze still fixed on the sky, she asked, “Have you ever seen the aurora borealis?”
Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it still felt odd breaking the tranquil silence.
“Yes, many times,” he whispered back.
“Is it amazing?”
“Yes. It’s interesting that you ask me about that now. Some of the most extravagant auroras I’ve seen have been out on the trail.” He dipped his head, and his breath warmed the crook of her neck. “The darker the night, the brighter they shine.”
“The darker the night, the brighter they shine,” she repeated. “I like that.”
“In the Middle Ages, the auroras were thought to be a sign from God.” He released a soft sigh. “Funny. I haven’t thought about that in a long time.”
“I would love to see Him light up the sky.”
“Maybe you will,” he murmured.
“I hope so.” She burrowed into him and let her gaze linger once again on the starlit night.
As the dogs carried them home with quiet footsteps, Clementine felt as though she were floating high above the canopy of trees. She was weightless, nothing but a breath on the wind. She smiled, closed her eyes, and could have sworn she could feel the diamond dust swirling and dancing against her skin.
Chapter Eight
“You should have been there. It was lovely.” Clementine sipped her coffee—today’s blend was dark mocha almond—and exhaled a dreamy sigh. She glanced at her companion and waited for an appropriate reaction to her detailed description of her mushing lesson the night before.
Nugget cocked her head, blinked and went back to sniffing the sidewalk.
“I get it.” Clementine frowned down at the Pomeranian. “You’re more interested in all the exciting smells around here than my love life.”
Nugget agreed with a wag of her tail.
Love life. Since when did she have a love life? And why was she entertaining such thoughts when she was on a business trip?
Clementine needed to clear her head. She briefly considered going back to the coffee bar and chatting with Anya, but the barista had been busy mixing one latte after another for a swarm of guests when Clementine last saw her. So instead, she followed Nugget’s zigzag trail down the walkway surrounding the hotel.
She should have been back in her room, typing up notes for the magazine. For once, Clementine found it difficult to even think about work. Her mind was still reeling from the mushing lesson with Ben. Undoubtedly it had been the most romantic night of her life.
And that kiss! Yes, some head-clearing was definitely in order.
Clementine’s gaze darted to the few people who were up and out in the frigid weather, strolling in the early morning frost. She was sure she was blushing. No one seemed to notice. Either that or they mistook her flush for windburn.
She pulled the collar of her parka up until it covered most of her face, and suppressed a shiver at the recollection of the evening’s events. If she closed her eyes, she could hear the sled runners gliding through the forest. The mushing itself was a revelation. She’d never expected it to be so peaceful, so quiet. She’d jokingly told Ben she wanted to start a Texas dog sled team, as his father had done in Florida. This morning, she’d found a perfectly sized T-shirt for Nugget in the hotel gift shop that said “Sled Dog in Training.” So far, it had elicited quite a few laughs from passersby on their morning stroll.
Lost in her thoughts, Clementine almost spilled her coffee when Nugget suddenly ran at full speed to the end of her leash. If she’d weighed more than a few pounds, she would have pulled Clementine’s arm out of its socket.
“Nugget, what in the world? The T-shirt is only a joke, you know.”
She gave the lead a gentle tug and attempted to reel her in, but was met with rottweiler-sized resistance from the pint-sized dog. Nugget’s entire body quivered with excitement and she let forth a series of earsplitting yaps.
When Clementine bent to scoop the unruly dog into her arms, she caught a glimpse of a pair of mismatched eyes peering out at her from ice-covered shrubbery nearby. One blue, one brown, she recognized them instantly as sled dog eyes. She’d never seen any other kind of dog with two different-colored eyes before.
“Hi, buddy,” she cooed.
The eyes stared back at her with cool indifference while Nugget attempted to wiggle out from Clementine’s grasp. As anxious as the Pomeranian was to meet the strange dog, the feeling evidently wasn’t mutual.
“Nugget, I’m afraid you’re not helping matters.” Clementine straightened, backed away a few feet and waited.
After her cup of coffee was halfway drained, it became clear that the husky had no intention of revealing itself so long as Nugget was present. Clementine hoped it was an extreme case of shyness, but couldn’t help but worry that the dog was injured or in some kind of distress.
She crouched down to make sure it hadn’t gotten away, although that would have been impossible because she’d been standing guard outside the shrubbery since the moment she’d spotted it. At first glance, she didn’t see anything but a tangle of branches and twigs dripping with icicles. She frowned. Once she finally spotted the husky eyes, set above a trembling black nose, her lips curved up with relief. The dog had moved even deeper into the hedge.
“Don’t go anywhere,” Clementine urged. “I’ll be right back with a treat.”
She wasted no time getting Nugget settled in the hotel room. The Pomeranian watched her every move as she shoved handfuls of dog biscuits into her pockets. Nugget shimmied to the very edge of the bed and wagged her tail, fully expecting to be showered with the treats. Clementine gave her a kiss on the head and a ridiculously oversized rawhide chew she’d been saving for the plane ride home, and managed to escape the room still armed with the dog biscuits.
To her great relief she found the husky right where she’d left it, cowering in the bushes. Clementine knelt on the ground, a sacrifice she hoped the dog appreciated considering the sidewalk was covered in ice.
Palm up, she held out a biscuit. “Are you hungry?”
The black nose twitched and moved an inch or two closer.
“Yum, yum.” She tossed the treat into the bushes and was rewarded with the immediate sound of crunching.
“Want another one?”
By the fourth biscuit, Clementine had a happy, wagging Alaskan husky in her lap. A quick inspection told her the dog was a girl, and sadly, had no collar.
“What are we going to do with you, huh?”
Ben was working at the paper until evening and Clementine didn’t know where she could find the closest veterinary office or animal shelter. She looped her crocheted winter scarf around the husky’s neck as a makeshift leash. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks that the dog seemed timid and controllable, and led her inside the hotel lobby.
Anya looked up from behind the coffee counter. Her eyebrows nearly shot to her hairline. “You got another dog?”
“I just found her outside. She doesn’t have a collar.” Clementine ran a protective hand over the dog’s pointy ears. The husky gazed up at her. “She seems to be a sweetheart.”
“I can see it now. You’re going to take that dog home to Texas, aren’t you?” She laughed and clicked a lever on the espresso machine.
It sounded like something Ben would say. Clementine didn’t want to admit that the notion had indeed crossed her mind. Not that she would actually go through with it, would she? “I need to get her to a shelter or veterinary clinic. Somewhere that has a microchip scanner. I’m sure she belongs to someone. She looks like a sled dog.”
“The Humane Society is six blocks that way.” Anya tipped her head in the directio
n of where Clementine’s dog handling classes had been held.
“Great. Thanks.”
Clementine was a tad wary about walking a strange dog six blocks with nothing more than a knit scarf for a leash, but she had no choice. Nugget’s tiny collar would barely qualify as an ankle bracelet on the husky. The gift shop, while chock-full of the Sled Dog in Training T-shirts and moose-shaped dog toys, had nothing practical to offer. So off they went.
The dog moved at an easy lope next to Clementine. She panted softly, with her mouth open in a way that made it look as though she were smiling. Clementine stopped and fed her a biscuit every block or so. She liked to think of it as positive reinforcement for staying close by, rather than a bribe. Either way, it worked. The husky was still trotting happily beside her as they approached the block with the Humane Society.
The receptionist glanced at the dog when they walked in. “Looks like a husky.”
Clementine wasn’t sure what she’d expected when she first entered the humane society, but she couldn’t help feeling let down by the receptionist’s casual reaction. Was finding a stray sled dog really so commonplace?
Clementine nodded. “I found her in front of the Northern Lights Inn. She probably belongs to someone. I was hoping you could check to see if she’s microchipped.”
“I’ll need to take her around back.” The woman came out from behind the counter and slid a slip lead around the dog’s neck in place of the scarf.
The husky’s mismatched eyes swiveled to Clementine with a pleading expression.
Clementine handed the receptionist a dog biscuit. “Here. She likes these.”
The two of them disappeared behind a closed door. Clementine wound her scarf back around her neck. It smelled like dog. She removed it and shoved it in the pocket of her parka, on top of the crumbs from all the biscuits.
She’s a beautiful dog. I’m sure she belongs to someone. They’ll get her owner’s information from the microchip and she’ll be home in no time.
Maybe she even belonged to one of the mushers from the race and had somehow gotten lost. Clementine put forth great effort to picture her running across the frozen tundra of interior Alaska in front of a sled. But every time she tried, the only sled she could conjure up in her imagination was Ben’s. Once again she felt the warmth of Ben’s breath on the back of her neck, his arms around her, reaching for the drive bow.