Sleigh Bell Sweethearts
Teri Wilson
Owning her own plane is all charter pilot Zoey Hathaway's ever dreamed of. So when she inherits a struggling reindeer farm, with three dozen unruly reindeer and one dangerously attractive ranch hand, Zoey's well-crafted plans seem to fly out the window.Now she must put her trust in Alec Wynn, and hoep tht the troubled cowboy's past wont' interfere with her plans to save the farm. Zoey knows that if she wants to succeed, she can't do everything on her own. But as she accepts Alec's help, she'll soon realize it's no just her farm that's at stake–but her heart.
Second Chance Yuletide
Owning her own plane is all charter pilot Zoey Hathaway’s ever dreamed of. So when she inherits a struggling reindeer farm, with three dozen unruly reindeer and one dangerously attractive ranch hand, Zoey’s well-crafted plans seem to fly out the window. Now she must put her trust in Alec Wynn, and hope that the troubled cowboy’s past won’t interfere with her plans to save the farm. Zoey knows that if she wants to succeed, she can’t do everything on her own. But as she accepts Alec’s help, she’ll soon realize it’s not just her farm that’s at stake—but her heart.
“Trouble sleeping?” Alec’s voice was a low rumble as he sauntered up beside her.
“Oh.” Zoey turned, her heart thumping hard in her chest. “You startled me.”
“You’re not accustomed to having someone around.”
“I guess I’m not.” She dropped her gaze to the snow collecting on the fence post. Alec had a way of looking at her that made her feel exposed, and standing beside him in the darkness only exacerbated that sensation.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
“Don’t be.” She cleared her throat and forced herself to look him in the eyes. Why was she suddenly so flustered? “I just got distracted.”
He nodded toward the reindeer. “I can’t blame you. They make a pretty picture at night.”
“Gorgeous.” She glanced again at the snowy scene. It was as if she and Alec had stepped straight into a Christmas movie. Visions of mistletoe danced in Zoey’s head and she suddenly felt flushed, despite the cold.
“You okay?” Alec gave her a sideways glance.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” Zoey shrugged, feigning nonchalance.
Mistletoe? Clearly, the reindeer weren’t the only distraction on this ranch.
TERI WILSON
grew up as an only child and could often be found with her head in a book, lost in a world of heroes, heroines and exotic places. As an adult, her love of books has led her to her dream career—writing. Now an award-winning author of inspirational romance, Teri spends as much time as she can seeing exotic places for herself, then coming home and writing about them, of course. When she isn’t traveling or spending quality time with her laptop, she enjoys baking cupcakes,
going to movies and hanging out with her family, friends and five dogs. Teri lives in San Antonio, Texas, and loves to hear from readers. She can be contacted via her website at www.teriwilson.net (http://www.teriwilson.net).
Sleigh Bell Sweethearts
Teri Wilson
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Every good and perfect gift is from above,
coming down from the Father of heavenly lights….
—James 1:17
In loving memory of my father,
Robert K. Wilson, Jr.
Like Zoey, the heroine of this book,
in many ways I am my father’s daughter.
Acknowledgments
I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Denise Hardy
of Williams Reindeer Farm in Palmer, Alaska, for answering my many questions and doing her best
to make a reindeer expert out of this Texas girl.
Any and all reindeer errors are purely my own.
Many thanks to Elizabeth Winick and her staff
at McIntosh & Otis. You are a dear friend,
in addition to the best agent in the world!
And Rachel Burkot, my beloved editor—
here’s to our third book together!
I hope there are many, many more.
Thank you to Meg Benjamin,
my friend and valuable critique partner,
for whipping this manuscript into shape.
Thank you to my family for always supporting me.
And as always, I thank God for making my dreams come true and allowing me to write for a living.
Contents
Chapter One (#u7674e5a5-ad2a-5b3c-aa94-2df04c782aa2)
Chapter Two (#u18b81124-77ca-5189-a8aa-6b09ef9b3b10)
Chapter Three (#u91bfc7f2-29a2-5ca7-9a60-dd219c19329d)
Chapter Four (#udf878471-eef3-5bec-aa88-cf313c3da123)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
In her wildest dreams, Zoey Hathaway never thought she’d wind up an heiress. And dreaming was something of a specialty for Zoey. She’d been dreaming for the better part of her life.
But this...
She glanced overhead at the snow-covered arched sign that read Up on the Rooftop Reindeer Farm, wondering how in the world she’d lived in Aurora, Alaska, her entire life and never known such a place was nestled right in the cleft of the mountains. She’d never even heard of the place. And now, according to the lawyer who’d called her the day before, it was her reindeer farm.
...impossible.
“Smile!” Anya Parker, Zoey’s friend and former boss, snapped a photo with her cell phone. “I still can’t believe it. You’re a reindeer heiress.”
“I know. I’m having trouble processing it myself.” Zoey peered at the snow-covered horizon, searching for a glimpse of antlers.
Nothing.
From what the lawyer had told her, this was a small operation. A hobby ranch—that was what he’d called it. Which made sense, considering she’d never even known Gus lived on a reindeer farm. Her flight instructor had been like a surrogate grandfather to her, but he’d been a man of few words. Too few, apparently.
She wondered where the reindeer were hiding. And how many of them were lurking around. Four? Six? A dozen? A dozen seemed like a lot. She was hoping for six, at most—a manageable handful. What could she possibly do with twelve or more reindeer?
“Gus really never told you about this place?” Anya asked.
“No.” Zoey shook her head. “Over two hundred fifty hours of flight time and more ice-cream sundaes than I can count, and he never said a word. I always knew he lived alone, but he never mentioned the reindeer.”
“No family,” Anya whispered, her words dancing in the air in a fog of vapor. “How sad.”
A lump formed in Zoey’s throat.
Get a grip.
She swallowed it down. She’d never been one to feel sorry for herself, to bemoan the tragic circumstances life had thrown her way. And she wasn’t about to start now. But picturing Gus living here alone—dying alone—was sobering, to say the least. She’d lost her parents when she was sixteen years old. And she hadn’t seen her only other living relatives—an aunt and uncle who lived in the Lower 48—since the funeral. Zoey was every bit alone as Gus had been.
Will this happen to me someday?
Anya’s arm slipped around her shoulders. “Poor choice of words. I’m sorry.”
Zoey pasted on a smile. “It’s okay.”
“You’re not alone. You know that, right?” Anya’s eyebrows lifted. “I don’t know a soul in Aurora who doesn’t think of you as a little sister. You’re the town sweetheart.”
Zoey pulled a face. “I don’t know about that.”
Town sweetheart? That was awfully flattering. Too flattering, perhaps. Granted, Aurora had a way of taking care of its own. And Zoey had always felt cared for, even after she’d found herself adrift. But being known as the perennial kid sister had its downside, particularly in the romance department.
Town sweetheart? Town mascot was more like it.
Not that it mattered. When it came to men, Zoey had a way of making sure things never got too out of control. Sure, she’d dated. Some. But never the same guy more than a handful of times. Relationships led to attachment. And in her experience, attachment eventually led to loss and pain. She’d been down that road before.
No, thank you.
“And now that you’re an heiress, who knows?” Anya gave her a playful hip bump. “Half a dozen marriage proposals will probably come your way by lunchtime.”
Before Zoey could utter a word of protest—and she had plenty of them at the ready—a rumbling noise came at her out of nowhere. Beneath her feet, the snowy ground quaked. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought an avalanche was tumbling down the mountainside. But Anya’s face showed no signs of alarm. And as a member of Aurora’s Ski Patrol, Anya was something of an expert on avalanches, so Zoey exhaled a relieved, albeit curious, sigh.
“What is that?” Anya frowned as a cloud of snow on wheels came barreling toward them.
Zoey hopped backward out of its path, yet still managed to be on the receiving end of an onslaught of fine white powder. A chill ran through her as tiny pinpricks of cold sprayed her cheeks.
“Hey,” she squealed.
The rumbling noise came to an abrupt stop.
Zoey blinked cold eyelashes against the sudden stillness. The white dust settled, revealing a rider clothed head to toe in black sitting astride a motorcycle. A large, powerful-looking motorcycle. Also black.
He parked directly beneath the reindeer farm’s arched sign. At least she assumed it was a he. The rider’s gender was impossible to discern, given all the protective gear—glossy helmet with an impenetrable jet-black face shield, sleek slim-fit parka and black leather gloves that covered not only his hands and wrists, but half his arms. Not a fraction of skin was visible.
Still, the thought of riding around on that thing sent a shiver up Zoey’s spine.
A motorcycle?
In Alaska?
In December?
Man or woman, clearly the rider was insane. Insane and possibly suffering from frostbite.
Zoey cleared her throat as she took in the rider’s broad shoulders and powerful build. Male. Most definitely. “Can I help you?”
The masked man swiveled his head in her direction.
Masked man? Really, Zoey...get a grip. He’s not a superhero. Although all the black reminded her vaguely of Batman.
The Dark Knight lifted the helmet from his head. A fleece neck gaiter—black, of course—was pulled up over his mouth and nose, revealing nothing but a pair of frosty gray-blue eyes set below a head full of wildly disheveled dark hair.
He didn’t look at all familiar. First the reindeer, and now a dangerous-looking biker. What else had Gus been hiding up here?
“I said, can I help you?” Zoey repeated, squaring her shoulders in an attempt to look authoritative. This was her reindeer farm, after all, even though she’d yet to lay eyes on a single antler.
Mystery Man gave Zoey a cursory once-over before pulling down the gaiter and exposing the rest of his face—high, sculpted cheekbones, an ultrastraight nose and a square jaw so firmly set that he looked as though he made a regular practice of grinding coal into diamonds with his teeth.
His gaze flitted to Anya briefly and settled once again on Zoey. “That depends.”
“Depends?” She unzipped her parka a smidgen. Her neck was growing warm for some strange reason. “Depends on what?”
“You’re not the new owner of this place, are you?” He lifted a single, threatening eyebrow.
She lifted her chin. “As a matter of fact, I am.”
“Well, it’s about time,” he seethed.
Zoey’s mouth dropped open. Who was this guy? “Excuse me?”
“Perhaps introductions are in order.” Anya stepped between them.
Zoey sent up a silent prayer of thanks for Anya’s presence. Facing the irritable Man in Black wasn’t exactly something she would have liked to do alone. Not that she was afraid of him. She’d certainly faced more frightening things than a biker in the wilds of Alaska. He was just a bit intense. And she still had no clue what he was doing on her reindeer farm, acting as if he owned the place.
Anya thrust a mittened hand at him. “I’m Anya Parker, and this is Zoey Hathaway. And you are?”
He pulled off one of his gloves and shook Anya’s hand. “Alec Wynn.”
His gazed shifted back to Zoey. She reached for his hand and shook it. It was surprisingly warm given his chosen method of transportation.
“Hi, Alec,” she said, offering him a polite smile. Perhaps they’d simply gotten off on the wrong foot.
He smiled right back at her. Even his smile possessed an edge. “You owe me a thousand dollars.”
Um...what?
She blinked. Once. Twice. Three times.
Alec’s smile faded as he crossed his arms and leaned back on the seat of his bike, apparently waiting for her to say something. Or whip out her checkbook.
Zoey’s throat grew thick. “Perhaps there’s been a misunderstanding...”
“Nope. No misunderstanding.” He shook his head. “This is your reindeer farm, is it not?”
“Well...” She glanced at Anya, who could do nothing but shrug, then back at Alec. Zoey still had no clue who he actually was, other than a purported creditor. “...yes. But I’ve only owned it for a day. Less than twenty-four hours, actually.”
She couldn’t possibly owe him a thousand dollars. For starters, she didn’t have that kind of money.
Technically, she did, she supposed. But that money was part of the down payment for the airplane she was buying in five days. The airplane that was to be the start of her new career as a professional pilot. She’d worked eight years as a barista, scrimping and saving for that down payment. It took a lot of lattes to buy a plane, even a small one.
Her plane money was off-limits. She’d already given notice at the coffee bar. Next Monday was to be her first official day as a charter pilot, and she couldn’t very well fly without an airplane.
Alec’s gaze narrowed. He was looking less and less like a superhero with each passing second. “Twenty-four hours?”
“Thereabouts.” She glanced at Anya again, eliciting a hearty nod of agreement.
“Maybe you could provide Zoey with some background information,” Anya said.
“Yes. Background information would be delightful,” Zoey muttered under her breath.
At least she’d thought it was under her breath. The storm clouds gathering in Alec’s eyes told her differently. “As I said before, my name is Alec Wynn. I work here. For you, apparently.”
So she’d inherited both a reindeer farm and a surly man on a Harley. Perfect. “How odd.”
“Odd?” He angled his head, and a lock of unruly hair fell across his forehead.
Why am I looking at his hair? Surely that violated some sort of employer/employee boundary line. But how would she know? She’d never been anyone’s boss before. “Yes. I mean, what exactly do you do for Gus? I mean, me.”
This was beyond surreal. If her nose wasn’t so cold, she’d wonder if she were dreaming.
“I care for the reindeer,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And generally keep things running around here.”
“Aurora’s a small town. I’ve never laid eyes on you before. Where have you been hiding yourself?”
“I’ve only worked here a week. I spent my first day on the job giving my employer CPR. Unsuccessfully.” Alec’s gaze dropped to his hands. He paused a beat before continuing. “And now I’ve been feeding a herd of reindeer—on my dime—while I wait around to see what’s to become of this place. So, forgive me if I haven’t had time to make the social rounds.”
Oh.
Oh...
So Alec had been the one to find Gus. This was new information. And it softened Zoey toward him a bit, even though she still thought him awfully demanding. And difficult. Couldn’t he have mentioned this right off the bat? “I’m sorry.”
He looked back up. Some of the tension had left his eyes, leaving a hint of pain in its place. “I’m sorry, too. For your loss. Are you his daughter?”
“Oh, no. I’m not family. Gus was my flight instructor.” She swallowed. “And my friend.”
His brow furrowed. “I see.” Clearly, he didn’t.
Which was fine. Zoey didn’t really understand it herself.
“So, this thousand dollars,” Anya said, directing them back to the matter at hand. “Is it your salary?”
Surely not. A thousand dollars a week? To feed a couple of reindeer? Although performing CPR was probably above and beyond the call of duty.
“No. Gus paid me a month up front because I moved here from Washington to take the job.”
For the first time, Zoey noticed the Washington State license plate on the motorcycle. She wondered if he’d actually ridden the thing all the way up through snow-covered Canada. It didn’t seem feasible.
Alec continued. “I’m out a fair bit now for reindeer food, hay and other incidentals. I can provide receipts.”
A fair bit. Lord, please don’t let it be even more than a thousand dollars. “How much do they eat? A thousand dollars is a lot of money.”
He shrugged. “You’ve got a lot of reindeer.”
Zoey grew very still. The snowflakes swirling around them seemed to move in slow motion. “I do?”
At long last, Alec Wynn smiled—a slight lift of one corner of his lips. It was the subtlest of gestures, but just lethal enough to uncurl a ribbon of dread in Zoey’s belly. “Yes, ma’am. You certainly do.”
* * *
Alec watched the color drain from Zoey’s face. The pink in her wind-kissed complexion faded right before his eyes.
“How many, exactly?” she asked.
There was really no way to sugarcoat it. And anyway, Alec believed in telling things like they were. “Thirty.”
“Thirty?” she echoed. She exchanged a glance with her friend—Anya, if Alec remembered correctly—who’d been watching their exchange with what appeared to be keen interest. “Thirty!”
“Give or take,” he added.
Zoey’s gaze narrowed. She had lovely eyes. If Alec had been the romantic sort—and he most definitely was not—they probably would have reminded him of the moss-covered Sitka spruce trees that shaded the Olympic Forest back in Washington. “You mean, you don’t know?”
“Of course I know.” He lifted an irritated brow. “It’s thirty. Usually. Palmer, one of the boys, keeps escaping. When he decides to grace us with his presence, it’s thirty-one.”
Anya snickered, failing in her obvious attempt not to laugh. “Zoey, you’ve inherited a rogue reindeer.”
Zoey’s mouth fell open. “This really isn’t funny. What am I supposed to do with thirty-sometimes-thirty-one reindeer?”
Alec felt as if he should comfort her or something, which was ludicrous. What was he supposed to say? Sorry about your charmed life, sweetheart.
She looked as though she might faint dead away. He really hoped she didn’t. His last attempts to revive someone hadn’t worked out so well. Then again, that shouldn’t have come as a shock. Sometimes it seemed as if everything he touched turned to ruin. Why should Alaska be any different?
All he’d wanted was a fresh start. He’d been looking for a new beginning all his life. Was that really too much to ask?
Apparently so.
He’d driven his bike more than two thousand miles in four days to get here, only to find himself holding the lifeless body of Gus Henderson within a day of his arrival.
He balled his hands into fists and pounded them against his thighs in an effort to shake off the memory. As bad as things in his life had been—and they’d been plenty bad—he’d never held a dying man in his arms before. It wasn’t an event he cared to repeat. Ever.
“Zoey, take a deep breath. Everything is going to be fine.” Anya wrapped an arm around Zoey’s shoulders. “Why don’t I call the lawyer and see if we can get to the bottom of this?”
Zoey gave a robotic nod. “That sounds good. Thank you.”
“His number is on the paper work in the car. I’ll go give him a call. Alec, it was nice meeting you. Welcome to Alaska.” Anya waved at him and headed toward the SUV parked on the edge of the street.
Relief, mixed with a healthy dose of annoyance, had washed over Alec when he’d first spotted the unfamiliar vehicle. The new owner had shown up. Finally. For nearly a week, he’d been muddling his way through things until someone who knew what they were doing decided to join him.
Alec glanced at Zoey Hathaway standing beside him. Clearly, she didn’t know the first thing about reindeer. He couldn’t help but wonder about her relationship with Gus. Judging by the shock etched on her delicate features, she’d never set foot on the ranch before. It should have seemed strange for a student to inherit her flight instructor’s property like this. Should have, but didn’t. Not really. Zoey seemed exactly like the sort of person who skipped through life as though it were a cakewalk.
She was pretty. Long, silky blond hair...and those luminous green eyes. Even out here where the temperature dipped below twenty degrees, she was perfectly put together. She wore fur-trimmed boots, black leggings and a cheery red parka. Her winter hat was also red, decorated with—irony of ironies—prancing reindeer.
Everything about her was sweet. Too sweet. Like the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus all rolled into one perky package.
And now she was his boss.
The very idea gave him a headache.
It wasn’t a cruel enough twist of fate that he’d ended up on a reindeer farm? Four weeks before Christmas? The ad he’d answered on Craigslist for a ranch hand never mentioned reindeer. Granted, the work was in Alaska. But he’d expected horses. Or elk. Not Rudolph.
How did a boy who’d never had a Christmas tree, never sat on Santa’s knee, grow into a man who lived on a reindeer farm in Alaska?
He pushed the thought away. He was here now, so he might as well deal with it. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not without the money he was owed. “Shall I show you?”
Zoey snapped out of her daze and blinked up at him. “The reindeer?”
“Yes. Would you like to see them?”
She nodded. “Very much.”
With a flick of his wrist, he cranked the motorcycle to life. “Hop on.”
“On that thing?” She frowned at the bike.
“We’re driving all of fifty feet. You’re not scared, are you?” He offered her his helmet.
She jerked it out of his hand. “Please. Of course not.”
He watched her as she removed her hat and replaced it with the helmet. It was far too big. Alec did his best to suppress his amused grin. Something told him now was definitely not the time to laugh at her.
He scooted forward on the seat of the bike, making room for her behind him. Zoey swung her leg over and situated herself on the seat. Alec waited for her to clasp her arms around his waist or, at the very least, grab hold of his parka.
Nothing happened.
He glanced over his shoulder. “You might want to hang on. You can wrap your arms around me. I won’t bite.”
He couldn’t see a thing through the face shield of the helmet, but he would have bet she was rolling her eyes.
“I’ve known you all of five minutes,” she said.
“Suit yourself.” He released the clutch, and the tires rolled and crunched over the snow.
Alec did his best to make the ride a smooth one. Tossing his new boss out of her seat didn’t seem like a smart thing to do, even though she would have had it coming. Apparently, she was every bit as stubborn as she was cute. Great.
Despite the fact that Alec had cleared the path with a snowblower an hour or so ago, it was a bit bumpy. Just as they made their way around the log cabin, which stood at the front of the property, the bike hit a slippery groove in the hard-packed snow. The motorcycle lurched to the right. Alec corrected the steering before Zoey could take a tumble, but immediately afterward he felt her arms wrap around his waist.
I told you so, his thoughts screamed. Even so, having her arms around him wasn’t altogether unpleasant.
She held on tight until they reached the fence and Alec cut the engine. Then she hopped off. With record-breaking swiftness.
“You didn’t ride all the way here from Washington on this thing, did you?” she asked as she removed the helmet.
He took it from her and hung it on the handlebars. “How else do you think it got here?”
“It sounds a little dangerous. Not to mention cold.” She made an attempt to smooth her hair. It wasn’t all that successful.
For some reason, the sight of her—cheeks pink, perfect blond hair slightly mussed—made him smile. “You don’t like motorcycles?”
“I didn’t say that.” She didn’t have to. “It just doesn’t seem like the most practical method of transportation this close to the arctic circle. But suit yourself.”
Oh, I will. He didn’t need her permission to drive his motorcycle. He could ride around in a flying saucer if he wanted. She might be his boss, but she wasn’t his mother.
Not that his mother had ever cared a whit about him. She’d been too busy getting high and avoiding the angry swings of his father to pay much attention to him.
He stalked toward the fence without saying a word. Zoey crunched through the snow behind him.
The Chugach mountain range rose before them in jagged silver peaks. Low-hanging clouds obscured the mountaintops, and a layer of what looked like fog spread out over the base of the foothills. Then the fog rolled toward them. A spectacular set of antlers came into view. Then another, and another.
Dozens of reindeer trotted toward them, kicking up snow so thick that their legs were barely visible. They appeared to float in a snowy mist, as though carried by a cloud of glittering ice crystals.
“Oh, my,” Zoey whispered.
Alec recognized the wonder in her tone. He’d felt the same way the first time he’d seen the reindeer. As much as he hated to admit it, the sight of them still sometimes took his breath away. Even if the whole thing was a little too Norman Rockwell for his taste.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” he asked, his throat growing tight.
“They sure are.” Her green eyes sparkled. “Are they always so quiet? I feel as if I’m looking at a dream...something that’s not quite real.”
He took a sidelong glance at Zoey and felt a wholly unexpected flicker of connection with her. “They typically don’t make much noise. I think they like the cold. They seem happy to run and play most of the time.”
Then she opened her mouth, and the moment was gone. “You mean play reindeer games?”
She just had to go there—the saccharine-sweet Christmas route. He really should have expected it.
With great reluctance, Alec said, “I suppose you could call it that.”
She laughed, oblivious to the mercurial change in his mood. “I just had no idea. Gus never told me about any of this.”
And yet the man had given it to her. All of it. “I suppose this sort of thing happens to you all the time.”
She frowned but somehow managed to look all wide-eyed and innocent. “What sort of thing?”
“Inheriting reindeer farms and the like.” He hadn’t meant to inject acid into his tone, but there it was all the same.
“Actually, no. It doesn’t.” Zoey’s eyes flashed. Alec was thrown for a minute by the fire in her gaze. Fire aimed directly at him. “If you think I’m some sort of spoiled princess, Mr. Wynn, you’re sorely mistaken. I suppose I can’t really blame you. Usually people who inherit things—houses, money, reindeer—come from privilege. Or at least from loving homes. I have neither of those things. So you might want to revisit your first impression of me. I’m not your average heiress.”
She spun on her heel and stomped back down the path toward the waiting SUV, leaving Alec to wonder what had just transpired.
Zoey Hathaway had surprised him. And people didn’t surprise him often. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had.
Zoey Hathaway...average?
Hardly.
Chapter Two
“North Pole Nails? Really?” Zoey glanced at the sign on the door of the nail salon where Anya and their mutual friend Clementine had suggested they meet for an emergency pedicure session. “I thought the purpose of this mission was to make me forget about reindeer.”
Anya opened the door and nudged Zoey inside. “That’s our intention. I promise. But it’s not like Aurora is teeming with day-spa options.”
“Try to pretend it’s called something else, something non-Christmasy,” Clemetine said.
Try not to think about Christmas? When it was less than a month away? That idea only made Zoey feel worse. “I love Christmas. I just never imagined I’d be spending it with my very own herd of reindeer.”
Or that they were such expensive creatures.
She would have been perfectly happy to stop thinking about her reindeer’s spending habits. But that wasn’t possible. She’d even declined the pedicure offer at first. Surely she had something else she should be spending her money on. Like reindeer chow or something.
What do they eat, anyway? I don’t even know.
She really shouldn’t be here. This afternoon was one of her regularly scheduled volunteer shifts at the church thrift store. Staffed entirely by volunteers, the thrift shop raised money to help a few of the impoverished, hard-to-reach communities out in the bush, the area of Alaska that was inaccessible by roads. Having flown with Gus on numerous missions of mercy to such villages, Zoey had a heart for the people of the bush. But her pressing need to see her lawyer had thrown a wrench into her afternoon plans.
Since when had she become the sort of person who met with lawyers?
Since she became an heiress.
One thing had become crystal clear over the course of the morning—being an heiress wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be.
“Sit down and take off your shoes. And smile. This is supposed to be fun. Remember?” Anya steered Zoey by her shoulders to one of the sumptuous leather spa chairs.
Zoey sank into it, and Anya flipped a switch. The chair hummed to life. “What’s that noise?”
“It’s a massage chair. Relax. Please.” Anya sank into the next chair.
“Are you sure your mom is okay with this?” Zoey frowned. Anya’s mother headed up the church thrift store. As a seamstress, it was pretty much her baby.
“She’s fine. I just talked to her. She’s got more volunteers there this afternoon than she has customers. The thrift store is fine. Everything and everyone is fine, except for you, apparently.” Anya pointed at Zoey’s feet.
She took the hint. She removed her snow boots, dipped her bare feet in the tub of warm, bubbly water in front of her chair and said a prayer of thanks that her friends had insisted on treating her to this little luxury.
“Did you get a chance to meet with the lawyer yet?” Clementine asked as she settled into the chair immediately to Zoey’s left.
“Yes. I just came from his office, actually.” Zoey nodded and selected a color from the tiny bottles of polish the nail technician offered up for inspection.
Anya chose next—fire-engine red. “What did he say? Could he shed any light on the situation?”
“He apologized for misleading me into thinking there were only a few reindeer on Gus’s property. Apparently, thirty is a modest number as far as reindeer are concerned.” So was thirty-one. Zoey couldn’t help but wonder where Palmer, the errant reindeer, was right now. Should she be concerned?
She hoped not. She had more than enough on her plate without having to worry about a defiant reindeer roaming the city streets.
“Really?” Clementine’s eyes grew wide. “What’s a large number, then?”
“A hundred or more.” Zoey supposed she should be relieved. A hundred? She couldn’t even imagine. Although if she couldn’t afford thirty, what difference did it make? She might as well have inherited five hundred of them.
“Did he mention your mysterious employee?” Anya’s lips curved into a smirk.
“There’s an employee, too?” Clementine asked.
Anya’s smile grew wider. “Oh, yes. His name is Alec, and he’s rather handsome.”
Handsome?
Zoey couldn’t argue against that assessment, but she considered it far too tame an adjective to apply to Alec. She could think of a few words that fit, however—dangerous, moody...tempting.
“He’s also borderline rude, so you can wipe that grin off your face.” Zoey’s cheeks grew warm. She blamed it on the bubbly footbath and the heated massage chair. “And I happen to owe him a thousand dollars.”
Anya’s smile morphed into a frown. “That was real?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Zoey had pretty much committed to memory the itemized list the lawyer had shown her—fencing supplies, food, hay, straw and yet more fencing supplies. Apparently Palmer’s urge to escape ran deep. He wasn’t about to let something as silly as a fence stand between him and his freedom.
Clementine reached over and gave her arm a squeeze. “What are you going to do?”
Zoey inhaled a deep breath. Could she even bring herself to utter the lawyer’s suggestion aloud?
“I have a few options,” she said cryptically.
Anya and Clementine exchanged confused glances.
“Such as?” Anya asked.
“There’s a log cabin on the property. I thought I could move in there. With the money I save on rent, I might be able to reimburse Alec sometime this century.”
“And then what?” Clementine said, leaning her head back against her comfy leather pedicure chair and closing her eyes.
Zoey stared down at her feet in the soapy water. She couldn’t even look her friends in the eyes. How could she possibly go through with it? “There’s a buyer who’s interested in the herd.”
“Really?” Clementine’s eyes popped back open. “That sounds promising. Maybe you could keep a few—two or three, possibly—and sell the rest. Or do you think they’d miss one another? Do reindeer form attachments like that?”
How would Zoey know? She didn’t know the first thing about the interpersonal relationships of reindeer. And she certainly couldn’t afford a reindeer psychiatrist. “Missing their friends would be the least of their concerns.”
Anya’s gaze slid toward Zoey. “What aren’t you telling us?”
Zoey inhaled a deep breath. She decided to just spit it out. “The prospective buyer is a commercial reindeer breeder.”
Clementine frowned as she appeared to turn Zoey’s words over in her head. “What does that mean, exactly?”
Anya, born and raised in Alaska like Zoey, knew precisely what it meant. “If a commercial breeder buys the herd, they’ll end up as reindeer hot dogs.”
Clementine winced. “Oh.”
“I don’t know if I can do it.” It wasn’t as if Zoey hadn’t eaten her share of reindeer hot dogs in her lifetime. In Alaska, they were practically as common as peanut butter and jelly. But these weren’t just any reindeer.
They were Gus’s reindeer.
Her inheritance.
She swallowed around the lump that had taken up residence in her throat since she’d first heard those impossible words from Gus’s lawyer: you’re Mr. Henderson’s heir.
The phone had nearly slipped out of her hand. She’d been sure she was hearing things. Or dreaming. Things like this didn’t happen in real life. At least, not to Zoey.
She’d been sixteen when her parents died in a small plane crash just north of the Chugach Mountains. It had been a freak accident, the product of a mountain downdraft. Her dad had been the pilot. Even when faced with the sudden loss of her family, the only thing she’d inherited had been her father’s love of flight. Aviation hadn’t simply been a livelihood for her dad. It had been his passion.
Zoey’s own fascination with flight had started on the very day of her parents’ funeral. She could pinpoint the moment exactly—she’d been sitting in the front pew of the Aurora Community Church, listening as one pilot after another eulogized her father, speaking of his passion for flying and the love he had for the extraordinary beauty of Alaska.
The last of them had been Gus. His words had struck up a symphony of memories in Zoey—being buckled into the backseat of her dad’s Super Cub, looking out the window at spouting whales and sandstone peaks or touching down at some pristine, unspoiled place. As she’d relived one moment after another, she felt closer to her parents. It had been almost as if they were still alive, even though their bodies rested in coffins nearly close enough for her to reach out and touch. After the memorial service, she’d gone home and collapsed on her childhood bed for the last time, and she’d imagined she was soaring through a cloudless winter sky.
It was the only thing that kept her from crying. When her aunt and uncle told her she was to go home with them to Kentucky and leave her beloved Alaska, she’d squeezed her eyes closed and thought about what it would be like to float above the mountains with her arms spread wide and the wind whipping through her hair. Her musings about flight became her refuge.
She knew better than to tell anyone, particularly her aunt and uncle. She was sure it would worry them, and she’d had enough trouble convincing them to let her stay in Aurora to finish out her last year and a half of high school. The members of the church, particularly the pastor and his family, took her in. They were the closest thing to family she had left in Alaska.
And still, she kept her daydreams of flight to herself. It was a secret between her and God. Without a doubt, people would find her sudden fascination with aviation worrisome. Or even morbid, perhaps. But to Zoey, it was her way of remaining her father’s daughter in the days, weeks and years after his passing.
Her inheritance was a passion for the thing he loved most, the thing that ultimately took his life and that of Zoey’s mother. But it was the only thing she had.
Until the reindeer.
“I don’t want to sell them.” Was it what Gus would have wanted? Zoey was sure it wasn’t. But why did he have the reindeer in the first place? And why had he left them to her?
They’d been close. After hearing him speak at the funeral, Zoey had sought him out. Gus seemed to have known exactly what she wanted, because he told her more stories about her father. Things she’d never heard before. Stories that fed her soul in those dark days. Her unconventional friendship with Gus was rooted in mutual grief.
They’d begun meeting for ice cream once a week and kept up the habit even after all Gus’s stories had been told three times over. She’d come to think of him as family. He’d always been there for her, whether she needed consoling when no one asked her to the senior homecoming dance or just needed to know how to change the oil in her car. Once, in a rare moment of sentimentality during one of their many flights together, he’d looked over at her and told her she was like the daughter he’d never had.
But it still wasn’t the same thing. People just didn’t leave things like reindeer farms to their friends. Even close ones.
Why me, Lord? “I want to keep them. All thirty-sometimes-thirty-one of them. Is that crazy?”
Anya propped her feet up, her toes ready and waiting for red polish. “Sort of.”
“Sometimes thirty-one? Have you lost count of your reindeer already?” Clementine grinned.
“Trust me. You don’t want to know.” Zoey closed her eyes and did her best to forget about the reindeer farm.
She made little progress. Even when her foot massage got under way, she was still distracted by thoughts of reindeer chow, moving from her apartment into the cabin on the ranch and what would happen on Friday when she was supposed to deliver the check for the down payment on her airplane. A Super Cub, just like her father’s. She was so close to making her dreams come true. At last.
Perhaps Alec would be open to some sort of payment arrangement. Somehow, she doubted it. He’d been pretty blunt about asking for his money. And though she was loath to admit it, she found him a little intimidating. After her grand speech about how he’d misjudged her, she’d fled. Fled! As if all the reindeer weren’t enough of a handful, she had Alec Wynn’s brooding intensity to contend with.
From the depths of her purse, her cell phone rang. Alec’s chiseled face flashed in her mind, although why she’d want to hear from him was a mystery.
She fished her ringing phone out of her purse with the intention of simply turning the ringer off. But when she saw all the missed-call notifications on the screen, she paused. “I have five missed calls.”
Clementine looked up from the magazine in her lap. “Who from?”
“I’m not sure.” Zoey answered the call before it rolled to voice mail again. “Hello?”
“Is this Zoey Hathaway?” It was a man. He sounded exasperated but polite, which ruled out Alec entirely.
“Yes.” She was hyperaware of everyone’s eyes on her. Clementine, Anya and even the manicurists were all watching her with mounting curiosity. “How can I help you?”
“This is Chuck Baker, out at the airfield.”
Zoey bit her lip. Chuck was the head air-traffic-control officer at the town’s one and only airport, located at the back of the Northern Lights Inn, the heart of Aurora. For years, she’d poured Chuck’s coffee from behind the hotel’s coffee bar. Double espresso in the morning. Decaf in the afternoon. And she’d spoken to him countless times from the cockpit once she’d started her flying lessons.
But he’d never called her before.
“Chuck, hi.” Nerves bounced around in her stomach for reasons she couldn’t quite pinpoint. “What’s up?”
“It seems we’ve got a situation down here at the airport.” The frustration in his tone kicked up a notch.
Zoey gripped the phone tighter. What if there’d been an accident? Lord, please no. Not again. Somewhere in the logical part of her brain, Zoey knew this wasn’t the case. Why would Chuck call her, of all people, if there’d been a tragedy? “A situation? I hope no one is hurt.”
“No one’s hurt. It’s nothing like that. But we’ve had to ground all flights. It’s chaos down here, and if we don’t get things under control you’ll be facing a hefty fine from the FAA.”
Hefty fine?
She blinked. What could she have possibly done to incur a fine? She was in the middle of a foot massage. What might the Federal Aviation Administration have against pedicures? “I don’t understand. Have I done something wrong?”
“Not you, per se.” He released a sigh. “It’s your reindeer.”
Zoey’s panicked gaze darted up to Clementine and Anya. “My reindeer?”
“Yep. There’s a big, fat reindeer parked in the middle of the runway. He won’t budge, and rumor has it he’s yours.”
Palmer.
Oh, please, God. No.
* * *
Alec slid onto a barstool at the coffee counter at the Northern Lights Inn and fought the urge to drop his head into his hands. Exhaustion had worked its way deep into his bones. The past six days had been a killer. Not that he was complaining—he’d always relished the opportunity to lose himself in a hard day’s work. There was a sweetness to forgetting...forgetting the past, the present, the future and living fully in the moment. And forgetting had never come easily to Alec.
Growing up in a home with parents who struggled with addiction had provided him with a laundry list of things he’d just as soon forget. At the best of times, his mom and dad had been too out of it to function. In the worst, there’d been the beatings—usually a product of sweaty, heated withdrawal from all the drugs. Alec had witnessed the angry cycle for seventeen years until he’d finally made the decision to leave home and never look back. The leaving had been easy. It was the looking back he sometimes still struggled with.
Since arriving in Alaska, he’d almost managed it. That was a good thing, since he’d traveled to the literal edge of the continent. If he couldn’t outrun his past here, there was nowhere else to go without falling into the stormy waters of the Bering Sea.
Finding Gus Henderson sprawled facedown in the snow hadn’t been the best of starts. It was a stark reminder to Alec that he could run all he wanted, but wherever he went, trouble would always be there to find him. Ironically, it was the reindeer that had kept him sane in the aftermath. He couldn’t very well leave. Who would care for them?
“Can I get you something?” the barista asked.
Alec looked up. “Sure, thanks. Coffee. Black.”
“Tough day?” The guy seated two barstools away glanced in Alec’s direction. He had a red parka slung on the back of his chair and a copper-colored dog curled at his feet.
Alec noticed they both looked vaguely familiar. “You could say that.”
Working for the forest service in Olympic State Park back in Washington had prepared him somewhat for the brutal weather, but he’d been completely inexperienced in the reindeer department. He’d gotten himself up to speed on the reindeer soon enough, but traveling north through Canada on his bike, the sudden death of his new employer and the daily demands of running the ranch solo were beginning to catch up with him.
And now there was the farm’s new owner to contend with.
Alec couldn’t help but wonder if she would prove to be far more trouble than she was worth.
“You new in town?” the stranger asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”
“I just moved here a week ago.” Alec accepted his coffee from the barista and took a long, hot swallow. It burned its way down his throat. “Alec Wynn. I’m working at a reindeer farm up in the hills about five miles from here. Nice dog, by the way.”
“Thanks. Brock Parker.” He offered his hand over the empty barstool between them. “Welcome.”
“Thank you.” Alec frowned. Brock looked familiar, and Alec was almost certain he’d heard the name before. Just what he didn’t want, or need—a face from his past.
Brock appeared to study him for a moment. He took a sip of his own coffee and grinned. “I think you may have met my wife earlier today out at the reindeer farm.”
Wife?
A wholly unexpected pang hit Alec in the chest. Could Zoey Hathaway be married?
Then he remembered the rather heart-wrenching look in those green eyes of hers when she’d unleashed her I’m-not-your-average-heiress outburst on him. She couldn’t possibly have a husband. Not a decent kind of guy, anyway. A decent man wouldn’t make her feel as if she hadn’t come from a loving home, even if it were the case.
He swallowed. What did he know about decent guys? It wasn’t as if he would ever be that kind of man, considering where he’d come from. He’d tried the decent route before—the Sunday-school, one-woman kind of route. He’d even gone so far as to put a ring on the woman’s finger.
Marriage. He’d thought it was something he could do. Not like his parents, of course. Better. He’d reveled in the idea of doing it the right way—two people bound together by God.
He’d never gotten the chance. His fiancée’s family had made sure of it. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, they’d said.
She’d believed it. Why shouldn’t Alec? He’d be lying if he said he’d never wrestled with the fear that he would one day end up like his parents.
He turned his attention once again to Brock. “Your wife?”
Brock nodded. “Her name is Anya.”
Anya. The friend. Of course. “Yes, we met. Very nice lady.”
“She and Zoey are good friends. I think they’re out getting pedicures right now, actually.” Brock shrugged. “They worked together for a while here at the coffee bar, before Anya started up full time with the ski patrol and Zoey decided to buy her airplane.”
Alec’s hand tightened around his coffee mug.
So Zoey Hathaway went around getting pedicures and buying airplanes...but she wasn’t a spoiled princess.
Yeah, right.
And to think for a split second, he’d thought they might actually have something in common.
“Hey, speaking of Zoey...” Brock rose from his barstool and took a few steps toward the window overlooking the frozen lake behind the hotel. The dog scrambled to its feet and followed on Brock’s heels. “Is that her?”
Alec took another swig of his coffee. He didn’t bother looking out the window. Unless she was writing him a check, what Zoey did was none of his concern. “Hmm?” he muttered, more to have something to say rather than expressing any real interest in whatever was going on outside.
“That’s her, all right.” There was a hint of worry in Brock’s tone that Alec did his best to ignore. “Is she trying to get herself killed?”
Now how was he supposed to ignore a question like that?
Alec dragged his reluctant gaze to the window. Sure enough, there was Zoey Hathaway—her blond princess hair tumbling out of her merry red hat and flying around in the wind as she tiptoed her way past a row of small airplanes, across the ice-covered lake.
Forget it. Forget her. It’s not your business. “That’s not the runway, is it?”
“I’m afraid it is,” Brock said.
“What is she doing out there?” Alec slid off his barstool for a closer look. Not that he had any intention of rescuing her. He was curious. That was all.
Brock said nothing. He simply pointed.
As Alec followed the direction of Brock’s finger, his gaze landed on a familiar antlered friend.
Palmer.
Chapter Three
Alec struggled to gain his footing on the slippery surface of the lake. He’d already slid his way to the middle of the runway, and Zoey was still a good ten feet ahead of him. She was shockingly fast. And agile.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he shouted.
She turned her head and stopped in her tracks when she spotted him. “What are you doing here?”
“I asked first.” He kept plodding toward her.
“If you must know, I’m trying to save myself a bucketful of money.” She resumed her trek across the ice.
“Could you stop for one minute? Please,” he all but growled.
Amazingly, she did.
By the time he reached her, he was struggling to catch his breath. She, on the other hand, was perfectly composed—waiting for him with her hands on her hips.
“How can I help you?” she asked, as if the situation was completely normal—as if standing in the center of an active airport runway, pausing for a moment from her pursuit of a petulant reindeer, was an everyday occurrence.
“This is crazy dangerous. You know that, right?” He glowered at her.
“You seem mad.” She frowned. “Are you mad at me? I mean, about something other than the thousand dollars?”
Alec inhaled a ragged breath. The cold Alaskan air burned his lungs, making him long for the coffee he’d abandoned in order to take up this wild-goose chase. “This doesn’t have anything to do with how I feel about you.”
Her cheeks blazed almost as red as her hat.
“What I mean to say is that I’ve already had one boss die on me this week. Let’s not make it two.” He jammed a hand through his hair and noticed his fingers were already numb. In the rush to get out here and put an end to this madness, he’d forgone his hat and gloves. “I have no desire to see you splattered under the wheels of an airplane. What are you doing?”
She waved a dainty hand toward Palmer, who appeared blissfully unaware that he was in her cross hairs. “I’m removing my reindeer from the path of air traffic.”
“By throwing yourself into the middle of that traffic?” He had to shout to make himself heard over a prop plane that had just fired up its engine. Great. They were probably both about to be chopped to bits by that propeller.
Why couldn’t he have simply minded his own business? Zoey Hathaway could obviously take care of herself. He looked around at all the airplanes idling with puffs of white smoke trailing from their engines. One or two planes circled overhead, clearly ready to land. Okay, maybe not so obviously. But why did he have to be the one to make sure she didn’t get hurt?
Alec shook his head. He had no answer for that particular question.
“Would you relax?” She rolled her eyes. They looked even greener out here, surrounded by the vast field of white. Irish green, one of the park rangers at Olympic Forest used to call it. Alec was sure he could see a whole spectrum of color in that one single hue. “The tower has grounded all flights, both outgoing and incoming. I’m not going to get ‘splattered under the wheels of an airplane,’ as you so eloquently put it.”
“Really?” He lifted his brows.
“Really.” She resumed her march toward Palmer, who was now lying down in the center of the runway with his long legs folded beneath him.
Oh, boy. Alec recognized the posture and knew Palmer had no intention of moving any time soon. Within minutes, the reindeer would probably be snoring loudly enough to rival the whir of the surrounding plane engines.
“That’s good news,” Alec said and fell in step beside her.
“No, it’s not. It’s not good news at all.” She released a sigh, and a cloud of her breath danced in the air. “The FAA doesn’t take kindly to interruptions in air traffic. I could be looking at a big fine.”
Alec had a feeling he could kiss his thousand dollars goodbye, which made his presence out here all the more nonsensical. “I see.”
“Wait a minute.” Zoey came to a halt about twenty feet away from Palmer’s resting spot. Her lips quirked into a smile.
Alec’s gaze was drawn at once to her mouth. She’s even prettier when she smiles.
“That’s not my reindeer.” She clapped her hands like a kid on Christmas morning in one of those sappy made-for-TV movies Alec always tried to avoid. “I can’t believe it. That’s not my reindeer! Problem solved.”
Was she delusional? “What makes you think he’s not yours?”
“Look.” She waved a hand at Palmer. And it was most definitely Palmer. Alec would have recognized that obstinate animal anywhere. He had a white ring around one of his eyes, unlike any of the other reindeer in the herd.
“I’m looking...” He crossed his arms. “...at Palmer. Who belongs to you, I might add.”
“It can’t be Palmer. Isn’t Palmer a boy reindeer?”
Alec had a feeling he knew where this was going. She’d expected a male reindeer to have a big rack of antlers. Most people did. Then again, most people were wrong, as was his new boss.
He bit back a smile. “Yes, Palmer is a male.”
“Well, clearly this is a girl reindeer. See? No antlers.” She did the clapping thing again. “Not my reindeer. Not my problem.”
He laughed. “I hate to break it to you, but male reindeer shed their antlers after rutting season. During this time of year, female reindeer are the only ones with antlers, Miss Smarty Pants.”
“Miss Smarty Pants?” She narrowed her gaze. The grit Alec saw there almost made him feel sorry for Palmer. “You think this is funny?”
“A little.” His shoulders shook, but he had the good sense not to laugh out loud again.
“This is not a joke. I should...should...” She appeared to struggle for words. For once. “Oh, I don’t know...fire you or something.”
“Fire me?” Now he did laugh. Loud. And hard. “Go right ahead, sweetheart. I’m sure the fact that you can’t tell the boy reindeer from the girls won’t be a problem at all. Especially during rut.”
She gave her hair a defiant toss over her shoulder. Alec was certain it was purely for dramatic effect since the arctic wind was swirling around them with increasing force. Palmer was already half buried in snow. “I could figure it out.”
“I’m sure you could,” he said with an ironic grin. “Things seem to be going so well for you on your first day of reindeer-farm ownership. I have no doubt it will all be smooth sailing from here. Why would you need me?”
She said nothing.
Alec should have stopped talking then and there. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t, except that Zoey had a way of making him forget to think. “In case you haven’t noticed, no one else is out here helping you. Like it or not, I’m all you’ve got.”
The moment the words left his mouth, he knew he’d crossed some sort of invisible boundary line.
She blinked at him, wide-eyed. Then Alec watched in horror as her chin wobbled, as if she might cry. That smallest of movements was enough to make him feel as if he’d just told some kid that Santa wasn’t real.
He wished he could take the words back.
No. That was a lie. What he really wanted was to touch her. He had no idea where it came from, but he was overcome with the sudden desire to reach out and brush her cheek with the back of his hand.
What was happening to him? The altitude must be getting to him. Or the cold. He’d heard about people who’d suffered from hallucinations on the verge of freezing to death.
He’d been colder in his life. And he obviously wasn’t close to freezing to death. So where were these thoughts coming from? Zoey was watching him now, which unnerved him even more. At least her chin had quit wobbling.
Thank You, God.
He frowned. He hadn’t thought about God in a long time. Not since his Sunday-school days, which had been years ago. Maybe he really was losing it.
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his parka and strode past Zoey, toward Palmer.
“Come on. Let’s do this,” he muttered.
When he heard Zoey fall into step behind him in the snow, he wasn’t altogether sure whether to feel troubled or relieved.
* * *
Like it or not, I’m all you’ve got.
Zoey didn’t know why Alec’s words affected her quite the way they did. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have anyone to lean on. There were plenty of people in Aurora who cared about her. And she could always count on the church. She knew that for a fact. Aurora Community Church had been there when she needed support most. Zoey herself now headed up their outreach program, so she knew firsthand the importance of the church’s mission to reach out to the community.
But her various friends and the church weren’t exactly at the forefront of her mind as she stared down the reindeer that seemed perfectly content to nap in the middle of the airport runway. A reindeer that apparently did belong to her, after all.
What was she doing? She’d thought she could power through this situation and solve the problem on her own. She’d even insisted that Clementine and Anya stay and finish their pedicures. She was accustomed to taking care of herself. She’d been doing it nearly half her life.
Clearly this time she was in over her head. But having Alec Wynn laugh at her was more than she could take. She’d reached the tipping point.
I should fire him, she thought as she tramped through the snow behind him. I really should. Was being mean grounds for termination? If not, it should be.
But the closer they got to Palmer, the less Zoey fantasized about ridding herself of Alec. The reindeer looked a lot bigger now that they were bearing down on him. Huge. And wooly. Zoey had seen reindeer up close and personal at Aurora’s Reindeer Run every spring. But those reindeer looked smaller and sleeker, somehow. Maybe they were girls. Or just wimpy reindeer. Who knew?
Had she really thought she could get this massive, hairy thing to budge all on her own? Maybe she would fire Alec after they moved Palmer out of the way.
“Scared?” Alec asked, as they stood a mere five feet away from the animal.
A little. “No,” she said, doing her best to avoid his penetrating blue gaze.
He lifted a dubious brow. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Reindeer are more afraid of you than you are of them. If this was any other member of your herd, you could have come out here, waved your arms and yelled shoo and the problem would have been solved.”
She wondered if it was the truth or if he was just trying to be nice. Then she remembered who was doing the talking. “So my strategy wasn’t too far off the mark, then?”
“No, it wasn’t.” The corner of his mouth lifted into a half grin.
Zoey half relaxed. “Why won’t that technique work on Palmer?”
“Because he’s stubborn as a mule.” His grin deepened, revealing a hint of a dimple on the right side of his face. “Just like someone else I’ve recently met.”
“I’m not stubborn. I’m self-sufficient.”
He pinned her with a sardonic look. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”
Zoey’s face grew warm, despite the flurry of snowflakes landing against her skin. She wished he’d quit calling her sweetheart...not that it sounded in any way complimentary. “So, what do we do now?”
“I have a secret weapon.” He pulled a carrot from the pocket of his parka.
Zoey laughed. “Do you always run around with vegetables in your pockets?”
“On my one and only afternoon off?” He tossed the carrot in the air and caught it. “No, not usually. I stopped by the hotel kitchen just now. It was a necessary diversion.”
“I wondered how you’d ended up out here.” Guilt pricked her consciousness. He wasn’t even on the clock. He’d probably been sitting inside drinking coffee or something when he’d heard about Palmer.
And here he was, with a pocketful of carrots.
Like it or not, I’m all you’ve got.
Something told her Alec Wynn might not be quite as dangerous as he looked.
“Hey there, bud,” he called to Palmer. “What are you doing all the way out here?”
It was probably the sweetest tone she’d ever heard come out of his mouth. His voice could melt an ice floe.
Dangerous. Without a doubt.
Palmer rose to his feet—hooves?—with a grunt. He gave a shake like a dog after a bath, and snow flew anywhere and everywhere. He took a step closer to Alec and craned his neck toward the carrot.
Alec snapped the carrot in two and presented half of it to Palmer with an open palm. The reindeer appeared to inhale it.
While Palmer was crunching away, Alec offered the other half to Zoey. “Do you want to give it a try?”
“Yes! Please.”
“Hold it in the palm of your hand and show it to him. Remember to keep your palm flat and your fingers together.” He winked, and for some reason that word—sweetheart—floated around in Zoey’s head. “Carrots look a lot like fingers.”
She gulped as she stripped off one of her gloves. “Oh.”
She might as well get used to it. Her reindeer weren’t going anywhere, unless running wild through town counted. She was stuck with them.
You could still sell them, you know.
She pushed the thought away. While she was hand-feeding him, it seemed cruel to even contemplate the notion of Palmer turning up on a menu somewhere.
The carrot rested on her open but somewhat shaky palm. Alec wrapped his fingers around her wrist and guided her hand to Palmer’s head. The reindeer pressed his muzzle against her palm. It felt like velvet against her bare skin.
She laughed. “It tickles.”
“Yeah, I guess it does.” Alec met her gaze for a split second then looked away and released her wrist.
Zoey cleared her throat and shoved her hand back in her glove. “Now what?”
“Now we take the escape artist for a walk.” He produced another carrot from his pocket and showed it to Palmer. “Come on, bud. There’s more where the other one came from, but you’ve got to get out of the way first.”
And just like that, Alec led Palmer off the runway and out of harm’s way.
He made it look so simple.
A cheer rose from the crowd of pilots, airport personnel and other onlookers who’d gathered around the frozen lake to witness the spectacle. Zoey had been so caught up in the drama, she hadn’t even noticed that half of Aurora had turned out to watch.
“Tell me that’s not a news crew,” she muttered under her breath.
“It’s not a news crew.” Alec chuckled. “Except that it is.”
She was mortified. How was she supposed to gain any credibility as a brand-new charter pilot when one of her reindeer had shut down the entire airport?
You won’t be a charter pilot if you can’t make the down payment on that plane...
Five days. More like four, now that the sun was setting. A full moon had already risen high in the pink Alaskan sky. The horizon was bathed in a soft lavender glow that made the mountains resemble icing on a cake. How lovely it would have looked from the cockpit of a plane.
Zoey’s eyes grew misty. What was she going to do? Palmer was under control for the time being, but it was a hollow victory. She still owed Alec a thousand dollars, and she still had thirty other reindeer to worry about. How was she ever going to afford all that, plus her airplane?
“You okay?”
Zoey glanced up at Alec, still leading Palmer around with a very literal dangling carrot. “A little overwhelmed, that’s all. It’s been a long day.”
“Keep your chin up. Everyone will forget about this in a day or two.” He kept his gaze glued to Palmer.
Zoey wasn’t sure if he was worried about the reindeer bolting, or if he felt as uncomfortable delivering a pep talk as she did to be on the receiving end of it. “Just so we’re clear, you’re officially un-fired.”
He let out a laugh. “You never fired me.”
Hadn’t she? She’d certainly meant to. “Yes, I did.”
“No, you didn’t.” He glowered at her. “I can take this from here. Don’t you have a pedicure to get back to or something?”
How on earth did he know about the pedicure? “I appreciate the concern, but my toes are fine.”
He gave her another look filled with blue-eyed ire. “Are you walking back with us, or will you be arriving via your private plane?”
Just how had he spent his afternoon off? Investigating her? “It’s not like you think. I’m not a spoiled heiress.”
He shrugged. “So you keep saying.” Zoey braced herself for another sarcastic sweetheart. It never came. She was almost disappointed.
She counted to ten before she did something stupid, like blurting out that he was fired again. Because clearly she needed him, as much as it pained her to admit it. By the time she got to five, they were engulfed in a throng of people. Zoey found herself with two television cameras and half a dozen microphones in her face. Everyone wanted a sound bite, something clever and quirky for the evening news. Because this was Alaska, where things like renegade reindeer made the front page—just one of the myriad reasons why she loved Aurora. She blinked against an assault of flashbulbs.
When her vision cleared, Alec and Palmer were nowhere to be seen.
Chapter Four
Zoey would be lying if she said she’d never fantasized about one day seeing herself on television. As nonsensical as it sounded, those fantasies usually involved winning an Oscar or a Grammy, and she was wearing an evening gown with sequins and maybe even a train. Never in her wildest dreams did she think the lead story on the local news would feature her escorting a reindeer off an airport runway. It seemed almost as ridiculous a notion as winning Best Supporting Actress or Best Female Vocalist.
Yet, there she was. In living color.
“You look lovely, dear.” Kirimi, Anya’s mother, waved the needle and thread in her hand toward the tiny television on the worktable at the church thrift store.
After the fiasco at the airport, Zoey had sought refuge here. She’d hoped going through boxes of newly donated clothes would take her mind off Palmer, the FAA and her rapidly accumulating debt.
And Alec Wynn.
“You sure do. Look how rosy your cheeks are.” Anya nodded. Even standing side by side, it was difficult to see the resemblance between mother and daughter.
“You’re glowing, Zoey. Glowing.” Kirimi slid her needle into a threadbare mitten. The things she could do with a needle and thread were nothing short of amazing.
Zoey’s skills, on the other hand, were limited to organizing inventory and helping customers. She sometimes wondered if her mother would have taught her to sew, had she lived long enough. Then again, Anya wasn’t exactly a whiz with a sewing machine. Up until the past year or so, she and her mom had had a strained relationship. That was difficult to believe seeing them now, volunteering side by side.
“As much as I appreciate your kind words, you two are nuts.” Zoey couldn’t even look at her onscreen self. “The entire experience was mortifying.”
Except...
There’d been a moment out there on the ice—when Alec had delivered his uncomfortable pep talk—that had been sort of sweet.
Zoey swallowed. He said one nice thing. And he couldn’t even look at you when he said it. Get a grip on yourself.
“We’re just trying to put a positive spin on things.” Anya shrugged. “Besides, you really do look good on TV.”
Zoey forced herself to look at the television. There she was—standing beside Alec, who was dangling a carrot in front of Palmer. The reindeer looked so picturesque, his back lightly dusted with snow. Like something out of a Christmas movie.
Alec didn’t look so bad himself.
Zoey absently folded something. A shirt? A sweater? Who knew? Alec looked absurdly handsome on-screen. Even more so than he did in person. No wonder the televised version of herself was gazing up at him as if he was the best thing to happen to Alaska since the Gold Rush. It was humiliating.
“I’m not glowing,” she protested. “That’s windburn.”
“Sure it is,” Kirimi said with an uncharacteristically saucy grin. “My Anya was right. Your reindeer man is rather dashing.”
Reindeer Man. It sounded like a superhero.
Zoey rolled her eyes. Why was she always comparing Alec to superheroes? “He’s not exactly mine.”
“He works for you, so he sort of is.” Anya winked.
Zoey knew Anya was only teasing, but the thought of anyone owning Alec Wynn was laughable. She wasn’t sure why, but he struck her as the type of man who valued his freedom. Maybe it was the motorcycle.
“Shh.” Anya grabbed the remote and turned up the volume on the TV. “They just said your name.”
“The reindeer has been identified as the property of Zoey Hathaway, longtime Aurora resident. Subsequent to the animal’s capture and removal from the airport, chief air-traffic-control officer Chuck Baker announced Ms. Hathaway will be assessed a fine for impeding air traffic and shutting down the airport. The amount of the fine, as determined by the Federal Aviation Administration, is two thousand dollars.”
“What?” Zoey dropped the garment in her hands. A shirt, as it turned out.
“They’re making you pay a fine? That’s hardly fair. It wasn’t your fault,” Anya said. “I object.”
Zoey objected, too. She objected to the fine. She objected to the fact that she had to learn about it on the evening news. She even objected to the wording of the news report.
Subsequent to the animal’s capture? Wasn’t that overly dramatic? There’d been no capture. He’d followed Alec and his carrot all the way back to the ranch. The reporter made it sound as though they’d shot him with a tranquilizer dart or something.
She refolded the shirt and grabbed another item from the cardboard box in the center of the table. Why was she worrying about semantics? She had more pressing problems to worry about right now. Two thousand of them. Three, counting the money she owed Alec.
“Try not to worry, dear.” Kirimi gave her arm a gentle pat. The gesture was so unexpectedly maternal that it made Zoey’s chest ache. “Maybe you can talk to Chuck and he’ll reconsider.”
“It’s not Chuck’s call. The fine is levied by the FAA. There’s nothing more he can do. When I left the airport earlier, he told me he’d talk to them and recommend leniency. I know he did the best he could.” If two thousand dollars was lenient, Zoey didn’t even want to know what was standard.
“That’s a lot of money.” Anya grabbed the remote and turned off the television. The coverage had moved to the weather forecast.
Zoey didn’t need a weatherman to tell her what she already knew—there would be snow. Inches and inches of snow. Par for the course for Alaska. Besides, she suddenly didn’t feel like watching TV anymore.
“Is there anything we can do to help? What are you going to do, dear?” Kirimi asked.
Zoey stared, dazed, at the flannel shirt in her hands. It looked like something Gus would have worn, a thought that made her feel even worse. What could she do? Sell the reindeer? She didn’t think she could. Not after today. But she couldn’t give up her airplane, either.
Surely there was a way to work everything out. Christmas was coming. Her world couldn’t fall to pieces right before Christmas. It just couldn’t. “I’m going to do the only thing I can do. I’m going to pray. Harder than I’ve ever prayed before.”
* * *
Alec stomped the snow from his work boots on the welcome mat and glanced at the modest sign above the shop door. Aurora Community Church Thrift Store. He wasn’t so sure about the church part of the equation. He hadn’t set foot in a church in years. Not since Camille had broken off their engagement.
But this was a store, not a church. And he needed a good pair of work gloves. This seemed as good a place as any, so he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The instant he set foot in the crowded little store, an all-too-familiar, all-too-chipper voice rang out. “Welcome! How can I help you?”
Zoey.
She was everywhere all of a sudden. Just how small was this town? “Hi there, boss.”
“Alec. Oh.” In the split second before she composed herself, she didn’t look any happier to see him than he was to see her. Before he could blink, she pasted a smile on her face. Ever the cheery princess.
Alec couldn’t imagine how exhausting it must be to project such a bouncy, happy image to the world at all times. Just thinking about it made his head hurt. “You work here?”
“Sort of.” She cast a glance over her shoulder, where a couple of other women stood behind a worktable, pretending not to listen if their not-so-subtle grins were any indication. One of them looked familiar.
Alec waved at them. “Ladies.”
They waved back, and he realized that the younger of the two was the woman who’d accompanied Zoey to the ranch earlier.
He turned his attention back to Zoey. “So you ‘sort of’ work here? What exactly does that mean?”
“I’m a volunteer.”
He rolled his eyes. “Of course you are.”
“What’s wrong with volunteering?” Her eyes flashed—a telltale crack in her perfect, bubbly composure. She looked even prettier when she was flustered, he noted.
Then he reminded himself he shouldn’t be noticing such things. “I never said there was anything wrong with it. It just seems like the type of thing you’d do, that’s all.”
She crossed her willowy arms, clearly an effort to physically hold her anger at bay. Alec couldn’t help but wonder what she’d be like if she let it all out. “Why are you so insistent on pigeonholing me? I told you I’m not what you think.”
His gaze swept her up and down, from her bouncy princess hair to the pompoms dangling from the ties of her snow boots. “Clearly not.”
Color rose to her cheeks. She looked like the Tooth Fairy on the verge of a murderous rampage. “Why are you so mean? I should fire you. Again. You can’t be the only man around here who knows about reindeer.”
“I’ll be happy to move on as soon as you say the word...and pay me the money you owe me, of course.” Alec lifted an expectant brow.
He should cut her some slack. She’d obviously had a rough day. But there was something fun about rattling her. And Alec hadn’t had much fun in his life.
“Is there an actual reason you stopped by, or was it purely to antagonize me?” she asked, refusing to take his bait.
He was beginning to suspect she didn’t have the money. And if she didn’t, then he’d indeed misjudged her.
I’m not your average heiress.
For some crazy reason, those words made him smile. “I need some work gloves.”
“Right this way.” She spun on her heel, moving through the crowded shelves of the thrift store with the energy of an arctic hare.
Alec followed, studiously averting his gaze from the sway of her slender hips. No good could come from forming an appreciation for her figure.
His eyes flitted to her tiny waist.
Too late.
“Here we go.” She stopped at a shelf located near the back of the shop. “Men’s work gloves. We have three pairs to choose from. Take your pick.”
He chose the tan-colored ones in the middle, the least worn-looking pair, and slid them on. “These look good. How much?”
“Um. Two dollars, I think.” Zoey frowned all of a sudden. And if Alec wasn’t mistaken, there was a slight tremor in her perfectly pink bottom lip.
He’d made her cry. Great. “Look, I’m sorry about before. I was just giving you a hard time. I think it’s nice that you volunteer here. Very sweet. Really.”
She blinked up at him with those sea-green eyes of hers, and Alec felt like the biggest jerk this side of the Lower 48. “It’s not that. It’s the gloves....” She gestured toward the work gloves.
Who grew emotional over a pair of gloves?
He stared down at them. “Do they look that awful on me?”
She laughed, and the sound hit Alec’s chest with a zing that was equal parts pleasure and pain. “No. It’s just that they belonged to Gus.”
The memory of finding Gus’s lifeless body half-covered in snow hit Alec hard and fast. He closed his eyes, as if that could erase the image from his mind. As if anything could.
He breathed in and out, in and out, and opened his eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t realize.”
He began to pull them off, but before he could, Zoey’s hands closed over his. “No. You keep them. You should have them. After all, you tried to save him.”
His gaze moved from the odd sight of their interlocked hands to her face, where he found her looking at him as if he were some kind of superhero. No one had ever looked at him quite like that before.
He wanted to tell her to stop. He actually preferred it when she looked at him with disdain. He hadn’t done anything special or admirable. Ever. From day one, his life had been a mess. He wasn’t her superhero. Hers or anyone’s.
But the words wouldn’t come. It was a struggle to simply say “thank you,” press a couple of dollar bills into her hand and walk away.
* * *
Snow brushed against Alec’s kneecaps as he walked the perimeter of the ranch the next morning, checking, double-checking and triple-checking the fence. Nearly a foot of fresh powder had fallen the night before, covering the farm in a blanket of dazzling white. Alec couldn’t deny it was rather pretty, even when his toes grew numb and he lost sight of his feet.
Palmer had decided to give them all a break and spend the night at home where he belonged. He’d been one of the first deer to show up for breakfast, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, seemingly oblivious to the trouble he’d caused the day before. But Alec knew better than to trust the naughty reindeer. He could practically see the wheels turning behind Palmer’s dark, almond-shaped eyes. He was formulating another escape plan. Alec was sure of it.
He shook his head as he poked his fingers through a square of the welded wire fence near the back corner of the pasture and checked for breakage. No doubt he was giving Palmer too much credit. Animals weren’t like people. They didn’t plot and plan, waiting for the perfect moment to run. More than likely, Palmer was an opportunist. When he saw a chance, he took it—just as Alec had done.
It had been a week before his high-school graduation. He’d had an after-school job cleaning out cages at the local animal shelter. Grunt work. The kind of thing no one else wanted to do.
Alec didn’t mind much. It was better than being at home, even though things had settled down somewhat. His father hadn’t hit him in almost a year. Two months had passed since either his mother or father had used. Sixty-one days.
And Alec had started collecting paychecks. He’d thought he might even work full time once school was out and try to save enough money to get a place on his own. He’d already managed to squirrel away a few hundred dollars he kept hidden under his mattress in an old, beat-up Band-Aid box.
But that day he’d come home and found both his parents passed out on the living-room floor and the Band-Aid box empty. He would never forget the bottomless feeling that had come over him as he’d looked inside that rusty box, and the hot sting of tears on his cheeks when he realized just what all his hard-earned money had paid for. He’d cried like a little kid.
And then he’d just left. Right then. And he hadn’t shed a tear since. Not even when Camille had called off their engagement.
It had been only days before Christmas when Camille slid his engagement ring off her finger. He’d foolishly thought his past was behind him, once and for all. He’d been honest. He’d told her about his parents as soon as they’d started dating. She’d been a Christian. Jesus was all about grace, right?
Somewhere around Thanksgiving, Camille had begun to have doubts. By the time stockings all over the world had been hung by the chimney with care, her family had gotten to her and convinced her those doubts were as real as the evergreen tree Alec had chosen at the Christmas-tree farm and tied to the roof of his car.
He’d forgotten all about the tree as he’d listened calmly to her explanation and accepted the ring she’d already removed and returned to him in a plain brown envelope. Then he’d walked right out the door. When he’d stepped outside and saw the evergreen strapped to the roof of his car, he nearly lost it. But he still hadn’t cried. He’d driven straight to the dealership and traded his car in for a motorcycle that very day, tree and all.
He’d used up all his tears back when he was a teenager, the day he’d peered into that empty Band-Aid box and discovered his stash was gone. Without the missing money, he’d had only a few crumpled bills in his pockets. But it was enough to get him on a bus out of town. That bus had taken him to Port Angeles, on the edge of the Olympic Forest.
His first job in the forest had consisted of walking miles every day through the woodlands, marking trees for culling. The isolation of it suited him. Every morning he’d welcomed the opportunity to get lost in the woods. In the shade of the tree canopy, he’d felt far away from everything he’d left behind. He’d felt free. As free as he could feel, anyway.
Morning was still his favorite time of day. Especially quiet mornings like this one. He could hear nothing but the crunch of snow under his feet and the click of reindeer hooves behind him.
Palmer, of course.
Alec glanced over his shoulder. Just as he’d suspected, a certain reindeer with a white ring around his left eye was trailing his heels. “You know you can’t sneak up on me. I can hear you clicking. You sound like an old man with creaky ankles.”
Palmer’s frosty white eyelashes fluttered. He was far from old. Alec’s best guess was five or six years of age, which meant he had a good four years left. Maybe more. The clicking sound—caused by a tendon in their rear hooves—was universal among adult reindeer. It was nature’s way of helping reindeer keep track of one another in blizzards. Or, in Alec’s case, of knowing when one was shadowing him.
“If you’re hoping I’m going to lead you to an opening in the fence, then you’re sorely out of luck. You’re going to have to find your own escape route.”
Palmer’s only response was a quiet grunt. And more eyelash fluttering.
Alec reached out and rested his palm on Palmer’s muzzle. After only a day or two on the farm, Alec had learned how and when to pet the reindeer. They seemed to prefer being touched on the head or neck, with the nose being a particularly favorite spot. Some liked being petted more than others, but none of them craved attention like Palmer. Most of the time, he followed Alec around like a devoted puppy, which made his unpredictable disappearing acts all the more mystifying.
“What are you running from, bud?” Alec rubbed the pad of his thumb against Palmer’s nose. It was covered in soft fuzz, a defense mechanism against frostbite. Palmer leaned into Alec’s touch, looking as happy as could be.
Alec was stumped. He was certainly no expert in reindeer husbandry, but the animal seemed content. Why did he keep disappearing? And how was he managing it? The fence was 100 percent intact. Alec had looked at every square inch of it.
“You don’t have it so bad around here, you know,” he muttered. “Trust me on this.”
He dropped his hand back to his side and searched Palmer’s expression one last time.
It was no use. He was no reindeer mind reader.
He trudged through the snow back toward the barn. Palmer’s tendency to roam hadn’t been a problem up until now. He’d managed to keep out of trouble on his previous excursions, but taking a nap at the airport was obviously out of the question. And even though it technically wasn’t his problem, Alec felt responsible.
Behind him, Palmer’s hooves clicked, an audible reminder of his predicament.
Not my predicament. Zoey’s.
He scowled. Why he wanted to help her was beyond him. He didn’t owe her anything. In fact, quite the opposite. One thousand times the opposite, give or take a nickel. And it wasn’t as though she welcomed his assistance. She’d made it more than clear that she could take care of things on her own.
Yeah, right.
She took the whole rose-colored glasses thing to a new level. But much to his chagrin, he found her unwavering spunkiness nearly as appealing as it was annoying. Given his past, he could appreciate a feisty, independent streak. Even if that independent streak was a little nutty.
And she was kinda cute.
There, he’d admitted it. It wasn’t as if he would do anything about it. It being her cuteness. He’d been down that road before. He had no inclination to go down it again. And he was more than certain that he wasn’t Zoey’s type. If she knew what was good for her, she’d avoid him like the plague.
He inhaled a lungful of arctic air as the log-cabin-style barn came into view. He felt better somehow. The quiet, peaceful morning stretched out before him, and his head felt clearer. Wasn’t admitting the existence of a problem always the first step? He’d admitted his quasi-attraction to Zoey Hathaway. Now he could forget all about her and move on.
He pushed through the back door, and in an instant his visions of a calm, stress-free morning evaporated. Through the wide double doors on the opposite side of the barn, Zoey strode toward him. Her blond hair was swept up in a high, perky ponytail, and her arms were piled high with three cardboard boxes.
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