Alaska Heart

by Christine DePetrillo

When Dale came back into the kitchen, he carried a large trunk marked “Canine First Aid.” He paused for a moment when he saw my position next to Zynk.

  “He’s still okay,” I assured him.

  Swallowing loudly, Dale nodded and took three giant steps over to us. He set down the trunk, shrugged out of his jacket, and pulled out supplies. A pair of shears, a packet of needles, and surgical twine, gauze, antiseptic, and a syringe.

  “A little something to relax him,” he said, picking up the syringe.

  “You don’t have anything for us in there, do you?”

  “I wish.” Dale pricked Zynk in the fleshy part of his upper thigh. The dog jolted in my lap, but calmed almost immediately. His eyes closed, and his jaw went slack. Gypsy nosed around, concern in her sky blue eyes.

  “Gypsy,” Dale said firmly. “Lay down.” He pointed to her basket bed and, with a final glance at her mate, she did as she was told. “Good girl.”

  Inhaling deeply, Dale dunked one of the remaining towels into the basin of hot water. He cleaned the blood from Zynk’s matted fur and, with the shears, buzzed away until the gash was in plain view. Fresh blood oozed from the slice, and Dale blotted it with the dry end of the towel.

  “Doesn’t look like an animal bite or claw mark.” He studied it more closely. “Looks like a knife slice, but it’s not too deep. Should be able to sew it up and bandage it.”

  Turning to his supplies, Dale tried to pick up a needle with his right hand, but his fingers didn’t reach his thumb with the cast on. Instead, he lifted the needle with his left hand and went for the twine with his right, but had the same problem. He let out a frustrated huff and put the needle down. He raked his left hand through his hair.

  “Let me.” I picked up the needle and threaded the twine through the eye. Dale tossed me a pair of latex gloves. “Tell me what to do,” I said.

  After sanitizing the wound, Dale guided me through sewing Zynk’s leg, and though it turned my stomach every time I passed the needle through the dog’s flesh, the final result was a neat line sealing the gash. Dale wrapped the hind leg in gauze and taped it in place. Lifting Zynk again, he placed the dog on the basket bed in front of Gypsy. She stretched a paw over Zynk and lowered her head to rest on his back.

  “She’ll keep a good watch on him.” Dale stood over the basket for a long moment.

  Pulling off the gloves, I pushed to my feet but staggered a bit when my weak knees almost gave way.

  “Whoa.” Dale hooked his arms under mine. “You okay there, Doc?”

  I straightened out and steadied myself against Dale. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s not every day a city girl like me plays veterinarian.”

  Dale turned me around. “It’s not every day I find a city girl willing to play veterinarian.” He kissed my forehead, and my knees wobbled again. “Thank you, Alanna.”

  “I’d say anytime, but I don’t want to do that ever again.” I rested my head on his shoulder. He squeezed me closer, and I wrapped my arms around his waist. He trembled in my embrace, and I rubbed his back with my palms.

  “Let’s clean this up.” I gestured to the mess on the floor. “And then I’d say a night like this calls for a bubble bath.”

  “Amen.” Dale brushed a kiss over my nose. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  While I went for the towels, Dale disposed of the syringe and sterilized the other instruments we had used. He slid the trunk over to the back door. I disinfected the basin, returned it to its place under the sink, and gave the floor a quick swab with a mop.

  After one final check on Zynk, Dale set the house alarm and double checked the lock on the back door—both actions reminded me of what could be skulking around outside.

  Before my writer’s imagination ran wild, Dale escorted me upstairs. In the doorway of the bathroom, he unbuttoned my jeans and slipped off my sweater. He let the straps of my bra fall from my shoulders and my panties glide down my legs to the floor. I stepped out of them, stripped his clothes as well, and together we entered the bathroom.

  Without exchanging any words, Dale grabbed two towels and sat on the edge of the tub. He poured in soap and turned on the water. While the Jacuzzi filled with hot water and suds, I stood behind him, kneading the tight muscles in his shoulders. He moaned as the tension leached from him, then he turned around and pressed his face to my bare stomach. He wrapped his arms around my waist and held tightly for several long moments. I ran my fingers through his hair, and he let out a hot breath against my skin. When he pulled away, his eyes were glossy.

  “Dale.” I cupped his face in my hands and ran my thumbs over his whiskered chin. “Zynk’s going to be fine.”

  “I know.” His voice sounded raspy and strained. “It’s stupid, but those damn dogs mean a lot to me. Probably too much.”

  “They’re your family. Your winning team. You’re allowed to love them, Dale.”

  I let him pull me onto his lap. The feel of my bare bottom on his thigh sent ripples of heat through my core.

  “You know who else I love?” His eyes were infinitely deep as they swept over me.

  I shook my head, but I knew. I knew because I felt it too.

  “I love you, Alanna, and I know that’s stupid too, because I haven’t known you long, and you’re not staying in Alaska. I had to say it anyway, though. I wanted you to know.”

  “It’s not stupid, Dale.” My voice was barely a whisper. “I love you too. I’m not sure how it happened so fast, but I do. It’s not logical. I’m not sure what to do about it either, but you’ve brought me to life here.” I tapped my chest where my heart now beat for him.

  He blinked slowly, shock gradually giving way to what appeared to be pure delight. His eyes sparkled emerald in the dimmed lights over the tub. I pressed my finger into the dimple on his cheek, and he held my hand in his. After guiding me into the hot water, Dale followed, sinking into the bubbles. He rested his cast on a towel on the rim of the tub and motioned for me to sit in front of him. I cut through the citrus-scented bubbles and positioned myself between his legs, resting my hands on the outsides of his thighs under the water.

  “Why is it that a single guy has citrus-scented bubble bath?” I asked, massaging his legs.

  “My sister used to tease me by saying I smelled like dogs,” he said. “I’m paranoid about that sometimes. Figured oranges were still a manly smell and better than dog.”

  I scooted back more so his arousal pressed against my backside. “Well, well.” I leaned my head back onto his shoulder.

  “Almost always around you.”

  I swiveled to face him. “Let’s see what we can do about that.”

  I corralled him between my legs and slid toward him until only a bubble’s width separated his excitement and my ready core. A moan rumbled in Dale’s throat as I teased his lips with mine. He patiently feasted on my mouth until we both slipped over the edge of control. His good arm slithered through the bubbles to press on my back. I accepted him while the bubbles and the fragrance of oranges danced around us.

  I devoured his lips, rocked my body against his until he released himself into me. Grabbing his shoulders, I closed my eyes and thought about how, in a perfect world, this would be enough. Without the worry about my job and life in New York, a happily ever after with Dale was possible. I could love him forever.

  In a perfect world.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lying on my back in Dale’s bed, his arm thrown possessively across my chest, I gazed through the wide skylights. Stars dotted the blackness above me, and, had I not been fearful of the woods and of whatever had attacked Zynk, dancing naked in the moonlight tonight would have been my activity of choice.

  The bubble bath had been like no other I’d taken in my lifetime. Gentle lovemaking amidst the soapsuds had been more erotic than I would have thought possible. Dale certainly had a gift for making me feel like a goddess he alone worshipped. A girl could totally get used to this. To him.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled a deep, satisfied
breath. Dale shifted and snuggled closer to me. He smelled wonderful, felt wonderful beside me.

  Opening my eyes, I looked down to the top of Dale’s head, his coppery brown hair still wet in spots. Tears welled in my eyes as I thought of saying good-bye to him at the end of the week. Fighting to keep the tears from spilling, I focused my eyes back to the skylights.

  “Oh!” I gasped.

  Dale stirred beside me.

  “What’s the matter?” His voice was groggy, his face half-buried in his pillow.

  “Look.” I pointed to the skylights.

  A bluish-green streak of light wisped across the black canvas of night. As if someone had taken a paintbrush, swirled it around in a dab of turquoise paint, and happily stroked the brush across the ebony-curtained sky.

  Dale rolled onto his back. “The aurora. That’s the darkest I’ve seen it in a while.”

  “It’s gorgeous. The only lights in the sky in New York run by electricity and are usually advertising something I want but don’t need.”

  “It looks like the color of your eyes tonight.” Dale squinted toward the skylights.

  “I’ll bet you tell all your girls that.” I jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow.

  “I do not,” Dale protested. “All my other girls have brown eyes.”

  I swatted his shoulder, and he chuckled before rolling back to his side, tucking me under his arm again.

  “There’s nobody else,” he said after a quiet few seconds. “There’s never been anyone who made me feel what I feel for you, Alanna.”

  I’d never experienced magic like this either. The conversation had been easy, right from the early emails between us, and the attraction on meeting face-to-face had been instantaneous.

  I stared at the northern lights as my eyelids grew heavy. Denali, mushing, sled dogs, aurora borealis, three little boys and a kitten, chicken wings, love. These things looped through my mind as sleep overtook me. I was eager to add plane ride over McKinley to that list of highlights on my Alaskan adventure, but not overly eager to get to Tuesday. Tuesday edged closer to Friday and my departure. I didn’t want to lose any time no matter how amazing it would be to get an aerial view of Denali.

  Looking at Dale, naked and asleep beside me, I had to admit the view right here was pretty amazing too.

  ****

  “New Yorkers know how to snowmobile?” Vince scratched at his chin.

  “Ah, yes.” I hopped onto Ram’s silver Bearcat Z1 XT snowmobile and revved her to life with skilled precision. “All of New York isn’t a city you know. Some of it is open, wild space. That’s the space I grew up in. My dad took me camping all the time. I can start a fire, build a shelter out of tree limbs, and make a hell of a salad just out of edible plants in the woods.”

  Vince elbowed Dale. “Quite a find here. Quite a find.” He had a bright orange hat pulled down to his ears, and I wondered how the spiked hair beneath it fared.

  My own hair was gathered into a ponytail as usual and tucked beneath my knit hat. I had been itching to straddle one of the snowmobiles since I’d laid eyes on them in Dale’s shed days ago. Today I was getting my chance.

  Before breakfast, Jake called to say he’d spotted footprints leading out of his woods he knew were not Dale’s. He’d posted guards at the fringe of his property overnight and cautioned Selia and the boys to be alert. Dale assured him Zynk was fine and resting. Each of his nephews got on the phone and made Dale hold the receiver to Zynk’s ear so they could wish him a get well soon.

  As soon as Dale hung up with Jake, he examined Zynk, who was recovering nicely. My stitching had held, and the wound looked dry and clean. Zynk slobbered all over my hand by way of a thank you.

  Relieved over his dog’s health, Dale had suggested calling Violet and Vince for a little snowmobiling adventure.

  “Love your snowmobile, Violet.” My gaze slipped over her dark purple Polaris 600 Dragon Switchback. Vince had the same model, only his was bright red.

  “Thanks. I’d always wanted one of these.” Violet caressed the handlebars with her gloved hands. “When I met Vince, he already had one so I figured that was the green light for me to go ahead and buy myself this little trinket.” She grinned impishly. “It’s my preferred mode of transport in the winter.”

  “Dogs are better.” Dale gave Violet a nudge as he passed her to hop onto his metallic green Bearcat.

  “But I don’t have to feed this puppy kibble, or let it take a piss before I want it to work for me,” Violet joked.

  Dale shook his head. “You also can’t play catch with that or cuddle with it.”

  “I don’t like catch, and I can cuddle with Vince.” Violet pulled down her goggles and jolted ahead of us on her snowmobile. A spray of snow whitewashed the rest of us before we all took off after her.

  The Bearcat rode like a dream. She handled the snow wonderfully and took curves like a pro. Violet and I surged ahead of the guys, each of us coaxing all the available power from our machines. I cut out in a wide arc and zigzagged around in the deeper snow, throwing up a white wake behind me. Vince and Dale zoomed by us and sliced a series of crisp figure eights into the snow ahead. We were children playing.

  We delved deeper into the woods behind Dale’s house, toying around until Vince came upon a series of tracks ahead of us. Holding up a fist to halt us, he hopped off his snowmobile and knelt in front of the parallel lines. Dale was next to him within seconds.

  “Another Polaris,” Vince said, studying the tracks. “Headed that way, I’d say.” He pointed to the west. Looking at Dale’s face and the concern there, Vince rested his gloved hand on his pal’s shoulder. “No worries, man. You always let folks pass through here.”

  “I know,” Dale began, “but you’ve seen the news lately.” He pulled up his goggles and pointed back toward the house, which was no longer visible. “Somebody was close to the house the other day when Alanna was alone there. Then there’s whoever sliced into Zynk at Jake’s.” He shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

  Vince nodded and stood. “When you put it that way—”

  The buzz of a snowmobile cut Vince short. All four of ours were off and quietly parked in front of the tracks. As the sound grew louder, an all black Polaris zipped up to us. The rider was dressed in a tan snowsuit, a black knit hat, and dark goggles.

  For some reason, I edged closer to Dale who was doing the same toward me. Vince stood in front of Violet. I don’t know what any of us thought we were going to do. We had no plan. All we had was numbers and speedy snowmobiles. I wasn’t opposed to running away come to think of it.

  Yards in front of us, the rider stopped his vehicle and waved his hand as he pulled up his goggles to reveal icy blue eyes.

  “Brian?” I said.

  Dale’s head snapped around to look at me.

  “Hey, Alanna.” Brian shut off the engine.

  Vince and Violet turned toward me as well at the sound of Brian’s comfortable greeting.

  “Brian works for Expedition Earth. Another—well, I should say, THE nature magazine. I met him at Moose Point earlier this week,” I explained to the three sets of unblinking stares. “Brian Turner, this is Dale Ramsden.”

  “The Iditarod winner?” Brian raised his eyebrows and extended his hand.

  “That’s the one,” I said.

  Dale took Brian’s hand and shook it.

  “I’ve read the recent articles on you. Congratulations on your win,” Brian said.

  “Thanks.” Dale was sizing Brian up.

  I wasn’t sure yet if I was flattered by the apparent jealousy or pissed.

  “And this is Vince Seymore and Violet Benolt.”

  Vince and Violet shook hands, rather mechanically, with Brian but didn’t say anything. They were busy sizing as well. Fair enough. Meg would do the same for me. What made the whole thing downright silly was that next to Dale, Brian had no sparkle whatsoever. I mean, he was an attractive guy and all, but now that I knew Dale, no one else could come close. I only saw hi
m.

  “Nice machine,” Vince finally said, raising a boot toward Brian’s snowmobile.

  “Yeah. She’s a beauty. Rented her from Moose Point. I’m trying out Alaska via all modes of transportation.” Brian dusted some snow off his pant leg. “I’ve already covered by car, sled, and snowmobile.” Looking to me, he continued, “And tomorrow we’ll view McKinley by plane. You’re still in, right, Alanna?”

  Again three sets of eyes shot to me. “Yeah, I’m still in. Looking forward to it. My article’s pretty much done, but I want to add a few kernels from the aerial view.”

  “Me too.” Brian nodded. “Great. I’ll let you get back to your fun. Nice meeting all of you. See you tomorrow, Alanna.”

  “Bye,” I said as Brian roared his snowmobile to life and zoomed off.

  A moment of silence stretched out between the four of us as Brian faded from view.

  “Plane ride?” Dale finally said.

  Violet and Vince hopped onto their snowmobiles.

  “Where are you two going?” I asked.

  “Ah…” Violet hesitated, turning the key on her machine.

  “We have to…be somewhere else,” Vince said as his Polaris growled to life. Within seconds, the two of them had nearly disappeared back the way we had come.

  “Why do I feel as if I’m in trouble?” More pissed than flattered. Definitely.

  “I don’t know. Why do you?” Dale countered as he folded his arms across his chest, an edge to his voice I had not heard since meeting him.

  “Because of the way you’re looking at me right now.” Though his features were still handsome, the crease between his brows made me uneasy.

  “How am I looking at you?”

  “As if I owe you an explanation for making plans for something that has to do with my work. You know, work. The reason I’m here in Alaska.” Acid was slowly mixing with my words, and I couldn’t stop it.

  “Right.” Dale took a step away from me. “Work. I forgot that’s why you’re really here.” He turned to get onto his Bearcat, but then looked over his shoulder. “I can take you for a plane ride over McKinley. I’ve got a pilot friend who’ll do it. You don’t need to go with that guy.” He looked toward Brian’s tracks into the woods.