Chapter 21 Darby
DARBY
“Aren’t you wearing a coat?” I stare at him doubtfully as he opens the front door and heads out into a winter wonderland. “It’s freezing.”
“I’m used to it, and it’s sunny enough to keep me warm while we’re moving. Besides, too many layers will make me sweat, and that’s more dangerous than not having enough of a coat.”
Feeling a little ridiculous now in my super warm get-up, I clip on Skadi’s leash.
We follow him out onto the porch. It’s already shoveled—not sure when he had time to clear the steps.
In between blowing my mind with orgasms and making an incredible waffle breakfast, I guess. A path is shoveled out to a snowmobile.
Oops. I didn’t think this out very well.
“How’s her recall?” Henrik asks.
“Pretty good usually, but if we’re going a long way, there will be too many good smells for her to focus on me.” I sigh, looking down at her. She’s dancing in place, making happy little barks, salivating at all the pristine snow. “A good run in the snow will be good for her though.”
“How about we stay out of the thicker woods to start and make sure she stays with us? I can always follow her tracks, but I’d rather not stress you out if she starts roaming too far.”
I kneel in the cleared path and grab her face in both gloved hands, making her look into her eyes. “I’m going to let you run, but you need to be good and keep in sight. Okay?”
She yips and tries to lick me in the face, then yowls a long string of Husky that I translate to, “Absolutely, whatever you say, just please let me go.”
Sending up a silent prayer that she’ll actually listen to me, I unhook her leash.
She bounds into the snow, leaping and frolicking like a puppy again.
Then she gets the zoomies. She brushes past my legs, barking her head off.
Streaks past Henrik, around the snowmobile, up on the porch, only to jump all the steps straight into the thickest drifts by the house. I can’t help but laugh.
A good laugh. The kind that loosens knots you didn’t even know you carried in your stomach.
Shaking snow out of her thick fur, she runs up to me, wagging her tail furiously, her tongue lolling in the cutest doggie grin I’ve ever seen. She barks expectantly, as if saying, “Let’s go already.”
“Okay, I hear you.” I walk over toward Henrik, who’s watching her antics with a bemused smile. “I think she’ll stick with us.”
“She’s not letting you out of her sight.
” He zips my coat all the way up and checks that the hat is down over the tips of my ears.
Then he pulls a pair of little goggles out of his pocket and puts those on me too like I’m a toddler.
I feel a little better when he puts some of the googles on too.
At least we’ll both look like alien bugs together.
“Have you ever ridden a snowmobile before?”
“Nope.”
“I think you’ll like it. We’ll take it slow. I want you to see the scenery. But if you start to get cold, let me know. Don’t tough it out, alright? Promise me.”
“Sure.” He narrows his eyes and gives me the big, mean grump glare, so I roll my eyes. “I promise, babe.”
“That’s my good girl.” Snagging me around the waist, he lifts me effortlessly onto the machine and then settles in behind me. Cradling me between his thighs. Oh boy.
He starts the machine, his arms coming around me to grip the handlebars.
Surrounding me in his heat. I don’t know how he thinks I’m going to see any of the scenery when all I can think about is his big body wrapped around me.
Let alone how I could possibly ever be cold.
Didn’t he say sweating was a bad thing? Because my blood is heating up.
He presses his mouth to my ear so I can hear him over the engine. “You can wrap your arms around mine to hold on, but I’ll kill the engine before I’ll ever let you fall off.”
I don’t want to mess up his ability to drive, but I do want somewhere to grip. I finally stick each of my arms underneath his, curling my forearms back around so I can grip the bulge of his biceps. Yum.
We start off across his front yard rather than going down the plowed driveway.
Grinning from ear to ear, Skadi runs beside us, easily keeping up at this pace.
The sky is brilliant blue with scattered puffy clouds.
Pristine snow glistens in mounds and slopes, blanketing the ground and lower shrubs.
I’m beginning to understand why he gave me goggles now, because I’m pretty sure my eyes would be tiny little slits against the brightness.
I’m not sure how he even knows where to go but then I notice he’s following thinner tracks. I tip my chin up toward him and he leans down to hear me. “Do Ren and Leland walk over to see you?”
“They usually snowshoe or cross-country ski. Though they both have snowmobiles too.”
Huh. I guess I thought Ren was driving Big Bertha over every time he popped up but I hadn’t noticed any growling engines. They hiked through the blizzard and snow? “That’s crazy. How far is it?”
“Usually ten minutes or so. We have just a little over two-hundred acres here, and Doyle has a hundred on his side. We’re going to take the more scenic, roundabout route now, but I’ll take the direct path home so you can see how close they are.”
Sure enough, in a few minutes he turns off the thin trail marks onto a less-marked path winding through tall pine and other trees I can’t identify.
It’s still a mystery to me how he knows which piles of snow he can drive through and which ones to go around, but there’s a casual ease and expertise in his movements.
I can feel the flex of his muscles beneath my palms, even through the cozy mittens.
The sure, confident way he drives the snowmobile is a lot like the way he is in bed.
Slowing down through curves. Speeding up a little to pull hills.
Leaning into the turns. Guiding not just the machine but me through the snowy wilderness.
It’s hot as fuck, if I’m being honest.
He pauses, idling the snowmobile, looking back over his shoulder. I can’t see what he’s looking at, but then Skadi runs past us, zigzagging back and forth across the slope, her nose to the ground. “I think she’s got the scent of a rabbit. Those two I caught yesterday were in that willow thicket.”
He points over to some bushy sticks poking through the snow in a cluster.
She disappears into the dense underbrush, and seconds later, a massive rabbit barrels out of sticks, Skadi hot on his trail.
I’m rooting for her—but also don’t want to see her actually catch the poor thing.
I don’t have a problem hunting—but I’d rather not see my beloved dog kill anything.
He dodges around some of the thick trees and disappears, either blending into the white snow or going underground. Skadi sniffs around a bit but is quickly distracted by another trail leading on up the steeper slope. Whew. Bunny lives another day.
We follow behind her, the machine roaring a bit louder as we pull the hill. It’s rocky enough that some of the stones are visible through the snow. Again, there must be some familiar path he’s following, though I can’t see it. At the top, he pauses the snowmobile again so I can drink in the view.
We’re at the top of a ridge. Mountains climb higher in the distance, glistening snow-capped sentinels still somehow grim despite the sunshine.
The ridge winds around a small river below.
Huge trees and forest stretch off into the distance.
I know the guys all live close, but here, at least, I can’t see evidence of any other living being. No houses or roads.
Colorado isn’t the wilderness it used to be. We’re not that far from Denver, let alone Breckenridge or Vail, but it feels remote and solitary. Almost untouched. I can see why he likes it, though I don’t know if it’s for me.
I’m too used to next-day delivery and Starbies to live out here. Right?
Though evidently Leland could fly me to Denver anytime I wanted to go shopping…
We follow the ridge for a while before starting the trek down to the river.
He said creek but as we get closer it looks deep and treacherous with slick, icy boulders and fast-moving currents.
A little worried, I look around to find Skadi.
She’s trotting alongside us, rather than trying to swim the river.
Hopefully there’s a bridge or something?
I shouldn’t have worried. We come back to the marked path just before the river.
In a few minutes, we approach a flat, wide snow-covered bridge.
No railings and the crossing planks appear to be long, thick trees rather than boards, but he’s made ramps up and down on either side so the snowmobile doesn’t have any issues.
On the other side, the trail forks. Leaning down again so I can hear, he points to the right.
“Doyle’s and Ren’s houses are that way. We’re going to Lee’s first, but we’ll be at Ren’s tonight.
The Ice is his. The creek bends to the north, feeds into the lake, and Doyle’s house is just on the other side. ”
My curiosity burns to know what’s so special about this practice ice rink. Every time one of them says “Ice” it sounds significant. Capitalized. What did Ren say earlier? “We pretty much worship ice out here.”
I don’t know what that means.
But I’m excited to find out.