Page 37 of Dr. Alaska
At the far side of the meadow, he stopped his team and waited as Lee caught up to him a minute later. Walking quickly thanks to the one dog-power engine pulling her, Lee had gotten the hang of the hip belt and leash that connected to Bob’s harness.
Once she reached him, Mav gave a signal and the dogs all immediately lay down in curled-up balls on the trail. Even retired sled dogs knew to nap at any opportunity.
Man, Lee was adorable, decked out in snow pants that had some shape thanks to the hip belt, a puffy coat she’d partially unzipped to thermoregulate, a neck gaiter that rested below her chin, and a green and red wool beanie that set off her pink cheeks and made her brown eyes glow when she removed her sunglasses in the lower light. If she hated the Alaskan outback, she hid it well.
Why did he assume she’d hate it?
No way would he answer the question. Lee wasn’t Skylar.
More to the point, Lee wouldn’t be in Yukon Valley forever, and Mav needed to pound that reality into his thick skull.
“Wow,” she said for the thousandth time today. Lee rotated in a slow circle. In between wind-driven snow squalls, the lodge appeared as a small dot on the far side of the meadow. Well-used trails diverged at their current location and went hundreds of miles into the wilderness or over to town five miles away. “This place is amazing.”
He propped his sunglasses on his head. “I’m really glad you like it.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
He hedged, “Not everyone likes the discomfort of cold weather and dealing with smelly dogs.”
She popped her free hand on her hip. “Are we back to the part where you think I can’t handle things here?”
“I—” Damn it. “No.”
“It’s one thing to be from somewhere else and hate everything about the unfamiliar place. It’s another thing to have new experiences and decide to be happy wherever you land.” A puff of vapor escaped her pink lips. “You might not understand that if you’ve only lived in one place. Or if you’ve never given anyone a chance to try and enjoy different things and discover for themselves.”
“Whoa. That’s a lot to process.” He put his hands up. “First of all, I’ve introduced others to this world, and some people didn’t like it. Second, my bad for making that early assumption about your lack of ability to live here in Yukon Valley. You’re never going to let me live down those comments.”
“Nope.” Lee stomped a boot. God, she was cute.
He refocused on averting a conversation disaster. “Third of all”—Mav looked down at his motley group of dogs that had gotten him through adventures, near-death experiences, and more than one heartbreak—“I’m sorry.”
Lee opened her mouth on a small sound, then closed it. “Pardon?”
“I don’t always react in the best way. That’s my personal baggage talking. I’ll try not to make assumptions.”
Narrowing her eyes, she said, “You’re a guy being insightful. Is this a trap?”
“I mean it. I know when I’m out of line. Dee reminds me of it every chance she can.” He took off the backpack he carried, pulled out two bottles of water, and handed her one. “As for the rest of it, let’s say that I’ve seen firsthand how someone thinks they want to be here with me and the dogs, but then decides that both thehereparts and the dog parts suck. I wasn’t enough to make up for those things.”
“Okay, yes. That’s rough.” She opened the nozzle on the bottle and took a sip, then tilted her head. “The dogs aren’t terrible at all. They’re quite bunch of characters, but they’re still family and they love you for who you are.”
“If only all humans were as accepting.” The words came out before he could stop them. “Look, that’s my junk to carry around. You don’t need to know all the details. It’s a relationship that sucked. It’s done.”
Her brown eyebrows rose, like she’d discovered something.
Another few minutes passed, punctuated by the occasionalwhuffof a dog getting more comfortable. Mav hovered nearby but didn’t come any closer.
After a few minutes, Lee capped the bottle and handed it back to him. “You’re not the only person with baggage.”
He stowed the container in the backpack on the ground. “I figured,” he said gently.
“Did you now?” she bristled.
Crap.Backpedal, man. “You had brought up an ex earlier.”
Her shoulders rose and fell. “Ex-husband. He never cared to understand my job, unless it somehow benefitted him.” Putting her mitten back over the liner, she flashed a self-deprecating smile. “My value was in how he could use me as a social prop and how he could advance his career with my family’s connections. He liked my pocketbook. Too much.”
Whistling low, Mav gave her upper arm a quick squeeze. “What a piece of work. What kind of man thinks that your work isn’t significant? Or takes advantage of the money you bring in?”
