Chapter Fourteen
A fter the interior lodge tour followed by a light lunch, Lee and Maverick cleaned up the dishes together. For such a mundane activity, it felt personal. Intimate. He handed her another plate to dry, and their fingers brushed. When she reached to open a cabinet, their hips bumped, each small contact making her skin tingle.
For a space of time, she wasn’t a doctor, and he wasn’t a paramedic. They didn’t live four thousand miles apart. She didn’t have self-doubt and massive debt weighing on her. They were just two people hanging out together. No social pressures. No impending work emergencies. No relationship issues. No drama.
A little drama with Maverick could be fun. She scanned the great room. Kisses by the fire. Talking about hobbies and dreams. Meals and laughter shared. More kisses.
His warm voice broke her out of those wispy thoughts. “Want to head out and meet the rest of the crew?”
“Sounds good. Do I need all my layers?”
He dried his hands on a towel and reached up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. They both froze for a half second.
His eyelids lowered. “Layers?” With a blink, he dropped his hand. Then Maverick’s laugh brushed past her like snow on a breeze. “No. You only need about half of what you brought.” He pointed to the thermometer mounted outside of the kitchen window with a digital display on the windowsill. “We’ll be active, and temp’s up to zero.”
“Yay?” Still sounded cold.
“I’m happy with anything in positive digits during winter here. There’s a big difference between minus forty and zero.”
Lee had no frame of reference, other than both temperatures seemed unpleasant.
They donned the appropriate clothing and exited through the front door, followed by Kenai. Heading toward the side of the lodge, their boots squeaked along a path of packed, dry snow. Clouds had moved in over the past hour.
Maverick wore what looked like a rock-climbing type of harness that wrapped around his hips and upper thighs, with a loop in the front to clip the dogs’ leashes. Lee swallowed. Those snug straps emphasized his… winter landscape. Wow. She stumbled on uneven snow. If Lee didn’t pay attention, she’d end up face-first in a drift. Dressed in her pink doggie harness, Kenai yapped as she eagerly pulled against the leash Lee held in her hand.
“For a medium-sized dog, she’s strong!” Lee said from behind him.
“She’s excited to be going for a walk with a new person.” Maverick stopped and turned back with a quirk to his mouth. “Sure you don’t need me to take her?”
“No, I’m fine. It’s quite an experience.”
“First timers are always surprised by the dogs’ power. Good sled dogs aren’t puffy giant huskies, like people think. For distance racing, it’s best if they’re in the thirty- to sixty-pound range and lean. Smaller dogs mean less food weight to carry on the sled.” He pointed. “They love to pull anything. Kenai here has been my lead dog for many years. Great nose for the trail. Keeps the other dogs in line.”
Kenai strained against the harness, dragging Lee forward. “What kind of dog is she?”
“Technically Alaskan husky, but that breed is a blend of different types of Nordic dogs. They’re designed to have the strength, personality, and desire to pull sleds.” He paused and studied Kenai, who paused and stared up at him with her tongue hanging out. “They’re not considered pretty dogs.”
“I disagree with that statement!” Fine, Kenai was scruffy and off-balance with her fluffy tail and scraggly mud-colored hair on her head. The sweet doggy grin made her cute. “Do they still pull sleds?”
He continued along the path. “We don’t race anymore. Almost every day, I get them out for walks in the woods, though they still prefer to run with a sled attached. On those days, I hitch up a cart in the summer or a sled in the winter, and off we go!”
As they reached the far side of the clearing behind the house, the yapping and howls increased. Four dogs, each one jumping against their staked leads or perched on top of their kennel roofs, barked as she and Maverick approached. Kenai answered with a hoarse yapping howl of her own, then looked back, as if to make sure it was okay to make noise.
“Don’t they get cold?” Lee shouted over the cacophony.
“I check on them regularly in frigid temps, but they enjoy wintry weather. Also, I keep fresh straw bedding in each kennel, so they can get out of the elements if need be.” His care for the dogs was obvious. “If it truly is too cold, I can bring them into the garage or even the house.”
“Like Kenai?”
“As she aged, it became clear she didn’t tolerate being outdoors for long periods of time, so she mostly stays inside during winter.”
“They’re all retired?”
“I don’t race anymore.” That wasn’t the answer to her question. Interesting.
“You only have five dogs? On TV, it seems like there are lots more running races.” She eyed several other empty kennels.
“Any number of dogs can pull a sled. It has more to do with the weight of the sled and musher, the distance, the terrain, and the purpose of the activity. Recreational rides on groomed trails are fine with two or three dogs. Long-distance racers run teams of twelve to fourteen, dropping any injured or tired dogs at checkpoints. For the Iditarod, you only have to have five dogs on the string when you finish the race in Nome.” He patted the head of the nearest dog whose tongue lolled out of one corner of its mouth as it stood on back legs to greet Maverick. “I kept my oldest dogs and gave the younger ones to friends who still race.” Gesturing down at the nearest dog who had a white and black fur pattern, he shot her a big grin. “Want to meet everyone?”
Her heart warmed. “You bet!”
“This here fellow is Klister. Runs next to Kenai in lead or behind her in swing position. Will do anything to avoid me putting booties on him.” He slipped the dog into a harness and got him to hold still long enough to put on red nylon booties.
Lee petted Klister and followed Maverick.
“This lovely girl is Denali.”
“She looks different than the others.” Lee took her mitten and glove liner off to sink her fingers into the fuzzy light brown fur over the dog’s otherwise white face. The dog’s eye color was a shocking ice blue, almost white.
“Yes, she’s a malamute. They’re generally fluffier. She is great at the wheel position.”
“Wheel?”
“Closest to the sled. Pulls all day long, any weight, any distance.” He moved over another several feet. “This goofball is Bob. He’s what happens if you took spare parts and crammed them together to make another dog. Not much to look at, but he knows how to pull at the wheel position.”
Bob had an adorable overbite, different colored legs, one ear that stood up while the other one flopped down, and a deep blue eye paired with a light brown eye. Somehow, too, his shoulders weren’t proportional to his hips. “Oh, he’s pitiful, bless his heart.”
Bob nosed the bare hand she offered and licked it, whuffing his doggy approval as Maverick slid the harness and booties on him.
Finally, they reached the last dog, a larger sturdy black and gray dog whose whipping tail made his whole butt wiggle from side to side. Lee studied his slightly cross-eyed expression. He seemed… simple but happy.
“And this is Kaaktuq.”
“That’s an interesting name.”
“In Inuit, it roughly translates to hungry , which is the perpetual state he’s in. He’ll eat anything, even if it’s not edible.” As the dog leapt up, Maverick held his paws up to his midsection and slipped on booties. “Right, buddy? You like keeping our local veterinarian in business. In other medical mysteries, his flatulence is remarkable, which I know firsthand because guess where it blows?” At the innocent, blank expression on the dog’s face, Maverick leaned over to Lee and whispered, “Kaaktuq here is also dumber than two rocks smashed together.”
Lee shivered at his low voice so close to her ear, and then burst out laughing. “It can’t be that bad.”
“The gas or the brains?” Maverick grinned. “Listen. It’s good he’s a team dog and doesn’t have to make any decisions. Hitch him up and let him run. He’d go forever if I didn’t make him take a break now and then.” He bent and covered the dog’s ears. “Between you and me, Kaaktuq couldn’t navigate his way out of an empty box. Shh, don’t tell him.”
“Poor guy.” Her stomach hurt from laughing at all of the characters.
After Maverick placed the harness, Kaaktuq licked him again and then sat down, tail still wagging, making an arc in the snow. He followed Maverick’s every action with a rapt expression.
Lee paused and took in the foreign but beautiful scene. The lodge behind them, the dogs at their kennels, all the paths carved into the deep snow, trees all around, a large open area with trails several hundred yards away, and mountains climbing toward the sky in the distance. Then there was Maverick, standing tall and confident in the middle of it all. The way he fit perfectly in this environment took Lee’s breath away.
She was far away from her life in Georgia in more ways than distance.
His gaze was inscrutable behind his sunglasses. He stood mere inches away, puffs of vapor drifting up every few seconds. A chilly breeze whipped around them.
“So, want to take the babies on a walk?”