Alaskan Hearts Page 10

  Her stomach fluttered.

  She took a deep, steadying breath and wandered around the lobby. On the wall adjacent to the front desk, there was a large bulletin board with photos of pets up for adoption. Clementine was stunned to find at least a dozen dogs that resembled huskies looking back at her from the pictures of adoptable dogs. The delightful flutter in her belly changed quickly into a sinking feeling.

  “Ma’am?” The receptionist walked back in with the lost dog.

  To her dismay, Clementine knew the moment she saw the look on the woman’s face that the news was not good. Even more to her dismay, the dog wagged her tail and bounded toward Clementine.

  “There was no microchip, was there?”

  “I’m afraid not.” The receptionist positioned herself back behind the counter and sighed. “I suppose you’d like to surrender the dog to our care.”

  A guilty knot lodged in Clementine’s throat. She could barely speak around it. “Hmm…” She looked down at the dog. Huge mistake.

  “Well?” The receptionist drummed her fingernails on the desk.

  “Um, how many Alaskan huskies do you already have here up for adoption?” Clementine gestured toward the bulletin board, careful not to catch the dog’s gaze again. Although a tiny voice in her head told her it was too late.

  “At least ten.” This was accompanied by a nonchalant shrug. “We get them all the time.”

  “I’m surprised. Do any of the mushers ever adopt them?”

  “A few. Most of them breed their own dogs. There was this one guy who used to have an all-rescue team. He doesn’t race anymore.”

  Clementine wondered if she was talking about Ben. Surely not. He’d said he mushed but didn’t mention anything about racing. Clementine looked back down at the dog, stalling for time.

  The fingernail drumming resumed, and the receptionist lifted a curious brow. “So what would you like to do with the dog?”

  Clementine gulped.

  Lord, help me out here.

  * * *

  Ben was late.

  He’d risen early and managed to return Reggie’s dogs in plenty of time to get to the paper by nine o’clock. Everything was running according to schedule until a big obstacle got in his way. A certain big, furry obstacle.

  “Quit being so stubborn.” Ben cross his arms and glared at Kodiak. “Get in the car.”

  The husky yawned dramatically, but otherwise didn’t move a muscle. He remained perched on top of the red doghouse, sitting ramrod straight. Snow had already begun to accumulate on his coat in a fine layer, changing his appearance from charcoal to almost silver. He stared back at Ben unflinchingly.

  “I’m already late for work. We’ve got to go. I’m serious. Get. In. The. Car.”

  He waited a full minute. Kodiak didn’t budge. Ben wasn’t altogether sure he even blinked. He’d become a statue.

  “Fine. I’m going.” Ben turned his back to the dog and waved over his shoulder.

  It was a bluff, of course. Nothing but a ruse to tempt Kodiak into bounding willingly into the car. Ben was scheduled to spend four more nights at the hotel before heading to Nome for the end of the race. He wasn’t about to leave Kodiak behind.

  He left the passenger door wide open, an invitation, and climbed in the driver’s seat. He started the car and forced himself to look away from the dog yard before Kodiak got a glimpse of the smile creeping its way to his lips.

  Frigid air blasted from the vents on his already-frozen hands. He was late for work. His faithful dog had suddenly developed a nasty rebellious streak. Yet, Ben still smiled.

  He’d kissed Clementine. And she’d kissed him back.

  Nothing else mattered.

  At the time, he’d meant to shock her into silence. At least that’s what he wanted to believe. But something happened when their lips met.

  With that one kiss, Ben felt more complete, more whole than he had since the accident. Clementine claimed to see stars. Ben felt them, rising up in his soul, filling him with hope. More hope than he’d known in years.

  He wasn’t sure what it meant. Clementine didn’t belong to him. She didn’t even live in Alaska. And if she did, the energy required to keep her safe and sound would send him to an early grave.

  But for those precious moments when he’d held her in his arms, Ben could feel the ice around his heart melting. Thawing, ever so slowly.

  He turned back to the window, no longer caring if Kodiak saw the look on his face. The dog was smart. Ben would never be able to hide the kind of bone-deep contentment he felt. Or the occasional thrill that coursed through him when he remembered the feel of Clementine in his arms. Soft, sweet, womanly.

  It was really a shame he had to go into work when all he wanted to do was get back to the Northern Lights Inn. But the sooner he got to the office, the sooner he’d be finished.

  He fixed his gaze on Kodiak and assessed the situation. Clearly the dog had no intention of coming down. At least not by choice.

  Ben got out of the car and strode back to the yard. He could tell Kodiak was pretending not to watch his approach, but the subtle twitch of his whiskers gave him away.

  This time, Ben walked all the way to his doghouse and gave the husky a good rub between the ears. “Come on, buddy, what’s the matter?”

  Kodiak let out a mournful whine and leaned against Ben.

  And suddenly he understood.

  He wrapped his arm around Kodiak’s neck. “You had fun last night, huh, bud?”

  A series of woo-woos followed.

  “I know it’s been a long time. You’ve missed it.” He stopped short of admitting he’d missed mushing, too. “But that’s not our life anymore.”

  The dog grew silent. He didn’t need to say anything for Ben to get the message loud and clear. First Reggie, then Clementine, now his dog. And even though he never pushed, Ben’s father. Was there anyone out there who didn’t think he should be mushing again?

  Ben glanced at the sky.

  I suppose You have an opinion on the matter, too?

  It was a cloudless morning. Bright and clear, without so much as a snowflake in the sky. Eerily similar to the last time Ben had fixed his gaze on heaven in search of an answer.

  But even now, no direct answer came. There was no need. The difference this time was that Ben sensed God speaking to his heart daily. It was a strange sensation that had begun when Clementine had come into his life. Sometimes Ben wondered if He’d been there all along. He wanted to believe that was the case, and he’d simply been too wounded to notice. But he wasn’t quite ready to accept it.

  He turned his attention back to what he knew to be true. Something concrete.

  “Kodiak, we’ve got to go. Come on.” He ruffled the fur on the husky’s shoulders and headed back toward the car.

  This time the dog followed quickly on his heels. Ben didn’t need to turn around to make sure he was there. He simply knew.

  * * *

  Clementine was unprepared for the sight of Ben sitting at the coffee bar when she finally returned to the Northern Lights Inn. Even after walking an extra five blocks or so to pick up a proper-sized leash and collar for the stray, she thought she would have plenty of time to put some sort of plan in place.

  And a plan was definitely in order.

  Keeping the dog had seemed like a great idea at the time. If she’d left the husky at the shelter, she would have been just one of a dozen other similar dogs waiting to be adopted. On the other hand, Ben was a musher without a team. And he had all those cute little doghouses, sitting empty next to his cabin.

  She’d convinced herself he would be thrilled. After all, Ben loved Kodiak. Still, there was a niggle somewhere in her consciousness that told her she was overstepping her bounds. The
niggle grew stronger as the hotel came into view. By the time Ben swiveled on his bar stool and his confused gaze swept over the stray dog, the niggle practically clobbered Clementine over the head.

  She breathed in a sigh of relief when he rose to greet her. “Hey, you.”

  He smiled, and Clementine felt as though she were drowning in diamond dust. “Hey.”

  She almost forgot about the dog on the end of her leash until Kodiak rose to touch noses with her. The two huskies wagged their plumed tails in unison.

  “What happened to Nugget? She’s grown.” Ben patted the bar stool next to him. A large coffee cup sat in front of it, overflowing with whipped cream and sprinkles.

  Sprinkles. How sweet.

  A guilty knot formed in Clementine’s stomach. “This isn’t Nugget, silly.”

  “I gathered.” He gave the stray a suspicious once-over. “So who’s your friend?”

  From behind the bar, Anya waved and flipped the little sign on the register to the side that said On Break. She gave Clementine a grim smile before slinging a dishrag over her shoulder and disappearing.

  Clementine wished she would have stayed. She could use a little backup right about now. “I found her.”

  “Really? Where?”

  “Right out front.” Clementine nodded toward the revolving doors. “She was cowering in the bushes.”

  “Poor thing. The Humane Society isn’t far from here. I’ll walk her over there with you and we can have her scanned for a microchip.”

  Clementine inhaled a steadying breath. “I’ve already been there.”

  Ben frowned, and the first lines of worry creased his brow. “What did they say?”

  “No microchip.” It was now or never. Clementine took a sip of her coffee. It was hot, too hot, but she barely noticed. “There were so many dogs there, Ben. All homeless. I couldn’t leave her there.”

  “What exactly are you planning on doing with her?” There was a panicked edge to his voice. He sounded similar to the way he had when he’d stormed into her dog handling class, convinced she’d been hurt.

  “Texas is awfully warm for a sled dog,” she murmured.

  Ben’s jaw twitched and his eyes grew dark, stormy. Clearly they both knew she wasn’t planning on taking the dog home.

  Kodiak and the stray chose that moment to curl into two identical balls on the floor, right next to one another. They looked like two peas—albeit furry ones—in a pod.

  Their apparent acceptance of one another bolstered her confidence. “Look, they like each other. That’s great because I was thinking you could take her.”

  Ben shook his head. “No.”

  Clementine ignored him and made a case for the poor dog. “She’s all alone in the world, and you have all that room at your place. Look at her. I’ll bet she’d make a great sled dog.”

  He turned sharp eyes on her. “I don’t need a sled dog.”

  “You sort of do.”

  “I most definitely do not,” he said through clenched teeth.

  The rich scent of freshly ground coffee beans, combined with something else—chocolate, maybe—filled the air. What would have ordinarily smelled delicious suddenly seemed sickeningly sweet. Combined with the rising tide of worry in the pit of Clementine’s stomach, it was enough to make her push the coffee a few inches away.

  He had to take the dog. What else would Clementine do with her?

  She swiveled on her bar stool and leveled her gaze at him. “Are you the same man who took me mushing last night?”

  The stubborn set of his jaw softened somewhat. “That was a one-time thing.”

  Clementine’s heart clenched. She couldn’t help but wonder if the kiss had also been a one-time thing. The kiss, the diamond dust, everything. She was beginning to feel like Cinderella with her lost slipper. The magic of the night before had vanished and was replaced by this harsh reality. Wasn’t that always the way with romance? In Clementine’s experience, most definitely. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t mush anymore.” He stared into his untouched coffee. The whipped cream had begun to melt and drip down the sides of his cup. “Period.”

  “You did last night.”

  “That was last night. This is today.” He pushed away from the coffee bar, nearly knocking his bar stool over.

  Taking his cue, the two dogs rose. Kodiak nudged Ben’s leg with a poke of his nose. The stray did the same. Ben backed away as if he’d been electrocuted. “I can’t do this.”

  Clementine laid a protective hand on the dog’s head. “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Both.” He shoved his arms into his parka and crammed his hands into its pockets.

  “Ben, please.” Clementine felt like begging, although she was unsure what exactly she was begging for. The conversation had taken a dangerous turn.

  “Clementine.” He held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t.”

  The sight of that hand—signaling to her as if she were a dog herself, trained to do his bidding—sparked something in Clementine. She no longer felt guilty for trying to impose the dog on him. In fact, she wouldn’t have let him take the dog now if her life depended on it. “Don’t what?”

  He dropped his hand and, with it, his defenses dropped as well. The anger disappeared from his features, leaving nothing but raw pain etched there for all the world to see.

  It hurt Clementine’s heart to look at him, but a team of world-class sled dogs wouldn’t have the strength to make her look anywhere else.

  “Just…don’t.” He pulled his hood down low over his eyes, turned and walked through the revolving lobby doors with Kodiak trailing on his heels.

  Clementine, left with the distinct impression he was no longer talking about dogs or mushing at all, could do nothing but watch him walk away.

  Chapter Nine

  “What just happened?” Clementine muttered to herself as she watched Ben and Kodiak disappear into a swirl of snow in the parking lot.

  “Come sit down,” Anya called from behind her. “I’ll refresh your coffee.”

  Clementine hadn’t even realized the barista had returned. She’d been too wrapped up in what was happening with Ben—or not happening, as it were. And now, on top of everything, she had a stray husky still on her hands.

  She slumped on one of the bar stools at the coffee bar. Her drink still sat there, its tower of whipped cream having long melted into a pool on the counter. Bright streaks of color were the only thing left of the sprinkles. “I’m sorry about the mess, Anya.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ve seen worse, believe me.” Anya took the cup, along with Ben’s, and wiped away the puddles with a swipe of her dishrag.

  If only the mess Clementine had made of everything with Ben could be wiped away just as easily. She sighed and looked down at the stray dog, who sat with her chin on Clementine’s thigh.

  She rested her hand on the husky’s head. “I’m sorry, girl. I gave it a try.”

  “Not to be nosy, but did you just ask Ben to give this sweetie here a home?” Anya set a fresh cup of coffee on the counter and pushed it toward Clementine.

  “You’re not being nosy. It’s not like it was a secret. I asked him right here.” She sighed and took a sip from the cup Anya offered her. “Thanks for this. It’s delicious.”

  Anya shrugged. “You looked like you could use it. Plus a friend. I could help out with both, if you like.”

  “That would be really nice.” Clementine smiled. It would be nice to have a girlfriend in Aurora, even if she was there only temporarily.

  Anya poured herself a small cup of coffee from the pot labeled Decaf. She gave Clementine’s latte a look filled with yearning. “Yours looks infinitely yummier, but I shouldn’t drink those things all day long. I try to re
sist the temptation.”

  “One of the hazards of the job, I guess.” Clementine guiltily gazed at her tower of whipped cream and decided Anya must have tremendous willpower.

  “Exactly.” She took a sip of her cup of plain black decaf and winced. “It’s just not the same, I’m afraid.”

  “So have you lived in Aurora long?” Clementine figured Anya was an Alaska native because her grandmother came from an Inuit family, but didn’t know much else.

  “Born and raised.” Anya nodded. “But I finally moved out of my mom’s house a few years ago. I live in an apartment out back.”

  “Here? At the hotel?”

  “Yes. There are a few apartments on the rear of the property, out by the lake, for staff members and long-term renters.” Her violet eyes narrowed, but thankfully her smile remained intact. “Wait a minute. Now you’re going to try and pawn that dog off on me, aren’t you?”

  “The thought might have crossed my mind.” Clementine bit her lip. She would have been lying if she said the idea hadn’t occurred to her.

  “Sorry.” Anya shook her head. “I wish I could help out, but I already have a dog. At least I think I do.”

  “You think you do?”

  “He’s a rescue dog. He’s shy.” Anya sighed. “Actually, that’s a bit of an understatement. I haven’t seen him for a couple of days. He likes to hide under the bed. I think someone mistreated him in the past. It’s painful to watch.”

  “Oh.” Clementine had thought her heart couldn’t sink any lower, but she’d been wrong.

  Guilt pricked her conscience as she took in Anya’s worried expression. Obviously she had her own share of problems to deal with.

  She reached for Anya’s hand and gave it a sympathetic squeeze. “I’m sorry about your dog. I’ll bet if you give it time, he’ll come around.”