I was about to end my Dale-watching and hunt down my laptop when he turned toward the window and waved.
“Now how did he know I was still here?” I said to Zynk, who had come to sit almost on top of my feet.
I waved back and forced myself to leave the kitchen. “I’ve got to get this article done, Zynk, because ninety-nine percent of my brain wants to be focused on that man ninety-nine percent of the time.”
Zynk let out a bark.
“Okay, okay. You’re right. It’s one hundred percent of the time.”
Chapter Nineteen
I decided to poke around a bit before I dove into my article.
All right. All right.
I’ll be honest. I was curious. I’d only seen the living room, dining room, and kitchen downstairs and the bedroom and bathroom upstairs. Dale’s log cabin, however, had more rooms worth exploring.
“You want to give me the grand tour, Zynk?” I looked at the dog, who simply wagged his tail at me. “I’m on my own, huh?”
I wandered into the downstairs bathroom, which was much smaller than the upstairs one but covered in the same slate tile. A sink, toilet, and narrow shower stall made it officially a full bath.
Stepping out again, I meandered to the room behind the stairs. An office. Long windows flanking a set of French doors lined the far wall and led out to a stone patio abutting the house outside. Wooden bookcases, stained a golden brown, spanned another wall, packed with an assortment of books. I approached one of the shelves and read the titles.
“Live Green, Basic Dog Sled Repair, Owning Huskies, Palmistry.” I flipped through the one on palmistry. I had always been interested in reading palms. Skimming a few pages, I learned I had an air hand, which was considered the writer’s hand. No surprise there.
Putting that book back, I scanned the next shelf, which had copies of Gaia magazine on display. For some reason, finding those there made me feel closer to Dale. He owned several other books I had on my own shelves at home. If I’d known nothing else about Dale, his book collection alone would have indicated we were a good match.
The desk that stood in front of the French doors looked as if it may have been handmade. Sturdy log legs supported the corners of a glass desktop and a series of copper tin buckets on shelves were stacked below either end of the desk. I sat in the burgundy corduroy, high-backed swivel chair. The desktop itself was tidy. Bills and other papers in neat piles, pens and pencils gathered in a copper tin cup. A good place to work on my article.
I got up from the chair to walk over to the wall opposite the bookcases. There, in different-sized, hammered-copper frames, pictures of Dale’s family hung above three wooden filing cabinets. Selia and Jake in front of a lighthouse somewhere. Ram on a Harley! Ram and Dale’s mother waving from the bow of a sailboat. Mick, Noah, and Riley dressed in snowsuits and hugging an enormous snowman. Gypsy and Zynk running through a pine forest. Dale and Vince, eighteen years old probably, sitting on the tailgate of a pickup truck with graduation caps on their heads. I traced Dale’s cheek in the photo with my index finger.
A few other pictures of people I didn’t know adorned the wall. Other family members or friends perhaps. All the shots had one thing in common, though. Everyone was smiling.
Upstairs, I discovered two more bedrooms. One was set up as a guest room with a full bed, donned with what looked like a bearskin blanket. A bureau, an antique rocking chair, and a nightstand with an iron lamp on it populated the room. Knotty pine planks covered the walls as in the rest of the house.
The second bedroom was set up with a treadmill, weights, and a stationary bike. A complicated stereo system lined shelves along one of the walls. Stacks of CDs were alphabetized in holders as well. An image of Dale working out in this room swept into my mind. Sweating, straining, perfecting his body. A shudder of pleasure worked its way along the length of my body.
Shaking my head, I approached the stereo and popped open the CD player.
“Metallica. No freaking way.” Ninety percent of his CD collection included shit I listened to. The other ten was a disappointing mix of country music. I hated country. Enough to disqualify Dale?
Absolutely not.
I headed back downstairs, feeling as if I knew Dale a little better and liking him more if that was possible. In the living room, my eyes rested on the Iditarod trophy and plaque he had received last night from the governor. I’d set them on the coffee table after Dale dumped my stuff on the couch and before we went wild upstairs.
Seeing the trophy and plaque now, I decided they both deserved a position of honor. I shifted the candles, storm lantern, and old tools he had on display on the mantle of his fireplace. I positioned the trophy and the plaque in the center and organized the rest of the items around them. Stepping back a bit, I admired my work and hoped Dale would appreciate the gesture.
Turning back to the couch, I inhaled a deep breath. Zynk had taken to nosing around in my open suitcase, and he extracted the black silk camisole from the pile.
“You think like your master, don’t you?”
I tugged the camisole, and the dog let it go.
“Good boy.”
Zynk’s tail wagged as he turned his different colored eyes on me. “You’re almost as attractive as your master too.” The dog licked my fingers as I held them out to him. “But I’m afraid I like my men less furry.” Zynk whimpered as he padded away from me to settle in front of the fireplace. “Sorry.”
I neatened my suitcase out a bit and hauled it along with my smaller bag to Dale’s bedroom. No sense in leaving my clothes out on display in his living room. Besides, I didn’t want my skimpy undergarments to wind up as dog chew toys.
I hung my jacket by Dale’s other coats on the pegs near the door to the garage. After grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator, I scooped up the bag containing my laptop, camera, and notebook. I took it all into the office and set up shop at Dale’s desk. As I waited for my computer to boot up, I swiveled the chair around to look out onto the patio and into the dogs’ enclosure. They were mostly lying around, like Zynk was doing inside. I guess things weren’t as much fun for them either when Dale wasn’t around.
Spinning back to my laptop, I clicked on an email from Evelynne. In all the fun I was having, I had forgotten to email her the opening to the article. That wasn’t like me to miss a deadline. Even one emailed from across the country.
eseaton:
Working so hard on the article you forgot me?
The email had a date of this morning and a time of 6:15 a.m. The woman didn’t even shut down for the weekend. I was only a day late. Not too bad considering I’d managed several dates and outstanding sex in between my working.
I revised and edited my lead, finding working at Dale’s desk wonderfully inspiring, and sent it off to Evelynne.
“That ought to keep you quiet and me out of trouble.”
I dug out the library books and continued taking notes until “Welcome Home” played from my bag. Fishing around, I extracted my cell phone.
“Hello?”
“So, who’s on top?” Meg said.
“I wouldn’t answer the phone if I were having sex, Meg.”
“Oh, pardon me. Such a polite floozy.”
“I’m not a floozy. Did I mention I’m staying at Dale’s house for the rest of the week?”
“Floozy. For sure.” Meg snickered on the other end of the line, and I was glad to hear her voice even if it was to taunt me.
“You would know.”
“True. I apparently taught you well, my young apprentice.”
“I think you’d be proud of me on this one. I mean, I had marathon sex last night and it was…” I couldn’t come up with the right word to describe what Dale and I had shared last night.
“Uh-oh,” Meg said. “You’re actually speechless. Should I rent out your apartment now or what?”
“I’m coming back, Meg. Don’t be silly,” I shot back.
“Okay, okay. But it sounds like y
ou’re in lo—”
“Don’t say it,” I yelped. “Please, Meg. Don’t say it.”
“All right. How’s the article coming then?”
“I’m working on it right now. Should have most of it wrapped up today. Dale’s gone for the day so—”
“You can concentrate.” Meg laughed again.
“Yeah. It’s hard to think about working around him. He’s…distracting.”
“A good quality in any man,” Meg said. “Speaking of good quality men, Matt asked me to go away with him.”
“Score. Where to?”
“A little B & B his aunt owns in Vermont. Should be cozy and romantic.” She sighed a little.
“This sounds like it’s getting semi-serious.”
“I fear it’s all the way serious. And I’m powerless to stop it.”
“I think, for once, I know what you mean.” I sighed myself.
“We got it bad, honey.”
I nodded, although she couldn’t see me. “When are you leaving for this outing?”
“In about an hour.”
“Already packed?”
“Yeah. Not taking much,” Meg said with a giggle.
“Tramp.”
“You know it. I plan to be naked for much of the weekend.”
“A perfectly good plan.”
“One you might try out yourself?”
“Ah, more like one I’ve been executing since I’ve been here.”
“And here I was thinking a gal needed more clothing in Alaska,” Meg said.
“I’ve found something to keep me well heated.”
“You deserve it, Alanna.”
“Thanks. So do you.”
“Damn right,” she said. “All right. You sound like you’ve got things under control. I have to go. Call me before you head back this way, okay?”
“Okay,” I replied. “Have fun.”
“You too, kid. Bye.”
I tossed my phone back into my bag and gave my full attention to the article. Talking to Meg filled me with fresh steam, and I pumped out several pages that actually made sense. I imported several of my pictures and added captions to them. My natural writing rhythm was back. More like me. Focused, in control, eye on the prize. After three hours time, I was pretty impressed with myself and ravenous.
“Lunch break,” I announced to the empty room.
I pushed away from the desk, made my way to the kitchen, and opened the fridge. I washed the apple I’d grabbed and bit into it. The crunch echoed in the quiet of the house, and I became aware of how remote Dale’s place was. You couldn’t see the street from the house. No neighbors nearby. Only mountains and trees. And dogs.
I jumped a mile when the house phone rang.
“Now this is sticky,” I said. “To answer, or not to answer. That is the question.”
I looked at the phone on the wall by the fridge as it rang again. I didn’t think Dale had told his family he had asked me to stay with him. I didn’t want to create any awkward situations by surprising anyone with that information. Nodding, I decided not to answer.
Two minutes later, “Nothing Else Matters” jammed from my cell phone. I ran back to the office, and picked it up.
“Hello?”
“You passed the test,” Dale said.
“What test?” My heart drummed in my chest at the sound of his voice.
“The not-answering-my-home-phone test. Not that it makes a difference. I’m pretty sure my father is ready to adopt you, and my nephews want to be your slaves. They’d probably be delighted to know you’re at my house.”
“I’m delighted to know I’m at your house.”
“How’s it going?”
“I’ve talked to my friend, Meg, written a bit, eaten one of your apples, and totally reorganized your sock drawer.”
“My sock drawer doesn’t need reorganizing. They’re all matched and arranged by color.”
“Of course they are, Dale.” I exhaled a breath. “You know for a guy who lives on his own with a bunch of dogs, you’re incredibly neat.”
“Obsessive-compulsive is what you mean,” he said.
“Organized sock drawers turn me on.”
“Check out all my closets and filing cabinets while you’re at it then. You’ll be so hot for me, you’ll want to rip me to pieces when I come back.”
I joined in his laughter and felt light, airy. As if I could fly.
“Did you see the doctor yet?”
“No. Still waiting. They’re a little backed up. Hope it doesn’t run too long, because I’ll be late for the interview.”
“More importantly, you’ll be late to coming home. To see me.” Why was it so easy to call his house home?
“Screw the interview,” he said.
“You can’t do that. The people want to know what makes Dale Ramsden, Junior, Iditarod winner and gorgeous male specimen, tick. You have to give the people what they want, Dale.”
“The price of fame, I guess, huh?”
“Uh-huh.”
“All right. They just called me in anyway, so I’ll see you later, Gaia-girl.”
“Bye, Sled-dog.”
A steel brush couldn’t have scraped off the smile on my face as I hung up my cell phone. I plopped into the desk chair and finished off the apple while I admired the picture of Dale sitting on the pickup tailgate. When my phone rang again, I rushed to get it, hoping to talk to Dale again.
“Hi.”
“Hi. Alanna?” Not Dale’s voice.
“Yes?”
“It’s Brian. Brian Turner from Expedition Earth.”
“Oh, hey, Brian,” I managed around my disappointment. Shit, I was acting like a high school cheerleader waiting for the quarterback to ask me to the prom.
“Hey,” Brian said. “I’ve been looking for you around Moose Point.”
“Yeah,” I began, “I’m staying with a…friend.”
“A friend?” Brian replied, a wisp of surprise in his voice. “I see. I was just wondering what you like to eat. Thought I’d get us lunches for Tuesday’s trip. You’re still interested, right?”
“Yes, I still want to go, but you don’t have to go nuts with lunch or anything, Brian. It’s nice of you to take me.”
“It’s no problem. Flying always makes me hungry, so I’ll be packing food for me anyway. Might as well double it.”
“If you’re sure,” I said. “What are you having?”
“I was thinking spinach pies from Sikik’s.”
“If her pies are like the chocolate cake I bought there the other day, count me in.” I thought of Dale licking frosting off my hand and other areas and had to contain the purr rising in my throat.
“Great. Spinach pies it is,” Brian said.
As he spoke, the dogs in the backyard erupted into a frenzied barking that had me spiraling around in the desk chair to peer outside through the French doors. It wasn’t a friendly barking. More like growling. Several of the dogs snarled and bared sharp teeth at something in the woods. A few of them were on their hind legs, their front paws clawing at the fencing toward the back of the enclosure. They looked more like a pack of wolves than dogs.
Brian said something else, but I couldn’t hear him over the roaring barks.
“What?” I shouted.
“I’ll see you on Tuesday.” His words were barely audible.
“Okay. Bye.”
I clicked my phone shut and stood. After opening the French doors, I stepped onto the patio. I squinted at the tree line. The dogs raged for another moment or so before their barks reduced to whimpers. They trotted back and forth along the fence closest to the woods, their ears perked and their tails whipping from side to side.
Zynk had sidled up to me and, with one sniff of the air, he tugged on my sweatpants, coaxing me back inside. The dogs settled, so I followed Zynk through the doors and then locked them securely behind me. A chill rippled down my spine, and I told myself going outside without a coat had caused it.
I wasn’t entirely con
vinced, though.
Chapter Twenty
I changed into a pair of jeans and took Zynk with me to a market in town, feeling the need for company after the dogs’ ferocious display in the backyard. As I approached the front door of the store, I scanned the street in both directions. The everyday traffic was out and about as usual, but somehow, I felt…I don’t know…watched. My eyes connected with several pedestrians, which caused my heart rate to jump, my palms to moisten.
“Quit acting like a moron.” Had I forgotten all my New York street sense?
Shaking my head, I pushed open the door of the market and was about to tell Zynk to stay when a voice roared from one of the narrow aisles.
“Zynk. Come on in, boy.”
The dog let out a playful woof and trotted into the market, stopping in front of a tall teenage boy. By the time I caught up to Zynk, the boy was on his knees, rubbing noses with the dog.
“Are you two dating?”
The boy looked at me with golden eyes full of laughter as he said, “Nah. Zynk’s too good for me.”
“I think he’s already taken anyway.” Zynk had rolled onto his back and was letting the boy rub his belly.
“Yeah, Gypsy’d bite me in the ass if I stole her man.” The boy stood and extended his hand. “I’m Aaron Wexler.”
“Alanna Cormac.”
“You a friend of Dale’s?” He looked between Zynk and me.
“Yes. He let me hang out with Zynk today.”
“You couldn’t ask for better company.” Aaron gave the dog one last long stroke before turning back to the canned peas he was stacking on a shelf. “Zynk’s my favorite out of all Dale’s dogs.”
“You know them all?”
“Yeah, when it gets closer to race time, Dale hires me to help train and care for his pack.” He shot a quick look to the back of the market and then leaned in closer to me. “My mom thinks I want to run this place when she retires, but I want to raise and race dogs like Dale instead.”
Aaron quickly slid five cans of peas onto the shelf as if to look engrossed in his work.
“Don’t say anything, okay?” He looked at me expectantly.
“Your secret is safe with me.” I pretended to zip my lips closed. I understood the source of this hero worship of Dale. He was a solid role model.
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