Alaskan Hearts - Teri Wilson Mills & Boon Love Inspired

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a commando crawl to get to the bag. “Nugget, as in a tasty morsel for Alaskan huskies?”

       Her lips settled into a straight line. “Nugget, as in my dog’s name.”

       “I was only joking.” Ben gave Kodiak’s leash a tug to put some more distance between him and Nugget. “Although you might want to be careful. To some of the dogs around here, that purse will look an awful lot like a lunch box.”

       “It’s not a purse,” she deadpanned. “It’s a dog carrier.”

       Ben resisted the urge to laugh, figuring it would only lead to another apology. Purse, dog carrier…what was the difference? What kind of dog would actually fit into something that small? Kodiak would have outgrown that thing by the time he was twelve weeks old. “Dog carrier. Got it.”

       His response seemed to satisfy her, if the return of her sweet smile was any indication. “Can I ask you a question?”

       Weariness had begun to settle in his bones and the line at the registration desk had at last thinned out, but Ben found himself agreeing. “Sure.”

       She slipped the dog carrier over her shoulder. Ben could see two tiny eyes staring at him through a mesh panel on the side of the bag. “Are they all this loud? Wild Alaskan huskies?”

       The way her green eyes widened when she said it brought a smile to Ben’s lips—a genuine smile. It had been a long time since he’d smiled like that. It felt strange. “They’re just Alaskan huskies. You can drop the wild.”

       She bit her full lip. “Of course. I knew that.”

       “And the answer is no.” Ben looked down at Kodiak, who’d finally given up on his quest to meet the elusive Nugget. The bigger dog had rolled onto his back, with his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.

       “Really?”

       He wasn’t sure why it made him glad to see that she looked more curious than relieved. “Most of them are louder.”

       She laughed. “I’ve seen them in photographs so many times. I just didn’t realize.”

       “They tend to be quieter on film.” I ought to know, he thought.

       “I want to be prepared.” Her smile grew wider and her eyes sparkled like a kid on Christmas morning.

       “Are you staying for the race?” She had to be. Why else would she be here, now of all times? Although he couldn’t imagine, for the life of him, why a woman like her would have any interest in the Gold Rush Trail sled-dog race.

       “Of course. That’s what brought me here, to Alaska.” The sparkle in her eyes intensified when the word Alaska passed her lips.

       A tangle of dread formed in the pit of Ben’s stomach. She wasn’t saying…no, she couldn’t be.

       As if she could read his mind, she filled in the blanks for him. “I’m here to work with the dogs.”

       Ben narrowed his gaze at her. “In what capacity, exactly?”

       “I’m going to be a sled dog handler!” There was no way to describe her enthusiasm other than to say she was actually gushing.

       Ben couldn’t help it. His mouth dropped open in shock. Did she have any idea what she was saying?

       “Next!” a voice bellowed from the front desk.

       “That’s us.” The woman—Ben still didn’t even know her name—gazed lovingly down at the pink dog carrier and hitched it farther up on her shoulder. She wiggled her fingers in a wave. “’Bye, Kodiak. ’Bye, Kodiak’s Dad.”

       As she turned to head for the registration desk, Ben caught a glimpse of Nugget watching him from behind the mesh screen. Just as he suspected, the tiny creature in no way resembled a real dog.

      Sled dog handler?

       She couldn’t possibly be serious.

      Chapter Two

      Clementine wiggled her toes in the comfy warmth of her UGGs and looked out the window at the blinding swirl of white.

       Snow.

       It was everywhere. Piled up waist-deep along the carefully shoveled streets and the labyrinth of narrow sidewalks surrounding the hotel. And to Clementine’s complete and utter delight, it was still coming down in buckets.

      Buckets…that might be more of a rain-related expression.

       She struggled for an appropriate metaphor as she scooped Nugget into her arms. “Look, Nugget, it’s snowing cats and dogs.”

       She supposed that didn’t really work, either. But it was the best she could do, because she’d never actually seen snow before. Other than in photographs anyway.

       Of course it had been snowing last night when she and her queasy stomach finally escaped the airplane and caught the shuttle bus to the Northern Lights Inn. She hadn’t been able to fully appreciate the beauty of an Alaskan snowfall at such a late hour. This morning was a different story, however. She’d never seen anything like it. The coastal Texas area wasn’t exactly known for its harsh winter weather. It had snowed only once in Houston during Clementine’s lifetime. She had been four years old, too young to carry any memory of making a snowman in her front yard into her adult life. She’d seen the photos, though, in the thick albums that filled her parents’ bookshelves. The snowman had been a full head taller than she was. But, like so many things in Clementine’s life, she knew the experience only through pictures.

      Not anymore.

       She looked out on the strange, white world and was struck by the purity of it all.

       Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white as snow.

       She would never think of those holy words the same way again.

       Thank You, Lord, for Your love and forgiveness. And thank You for bringing me here. At last.

       Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she sniffed and blinked them back. She scooped Nugget into her arms. “How would you like to go for our first walk in the snow?”

       The hotel lobby was even busier than the night before and, save for the numerous dead animals on the walls, it seemed everyone had an official Gold Rush Trail name tag hanging around their neck. Clementine almost felt naked without one. A huge banner that read “Welcome Gold Rush Trail Volunteers!” was hoisted above a smooth, lacquered counter at the foot of the staircase. Behind the counter, a map of Alaska covered the wall, floor-to-ceiling. The trail the sled dog teams would cover during the race was marked out in red dashes, all the way from Aurora to the village of Nome, close to the Arctic Circle.

       Look at that! I’m almost at the top of the world!

       “Can I help you?” A tall woman wearing a neon-orange skullcap greeted her from behind the desk.

       “Oh, sure.” Clementine took a step closer to the counter, and Nugget followed along at the end of her pink leather leash.

       “Cute dog.” The woman, whose name was Bea, according to her name tag, smiled down at the Pomeranian. “We’re all dog lovers around here, although we don’t often see ones that are so tiny.”

       Clementine’s thoughts immediately turned to the handsome man she’d met the night before—Kodiak’s dad. He was so rugged, so Alaskan. She remembered with less fondness his warning about Nugget looking more like a snack than a canine. And his reprimand about her shoes. “I’ll keep a close eye on her.”

       “Good idea.” Bea nodded. “Are you a volunteer? Can I help get you checked in?”

       “Yes. My name is Clementine Phillips from Houston, Texas. I’m a researcher for Nature World magazine. They sent me to volunteer and report back about the race.”

       Bea flipped through the box of name badges on the countertop

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