Alaskan Fantasy

“I didn’t say date. I said ‘thinking about.’” Tazer’s lips twitched.

Kat sighed. “Think…date…whatever.”

“Look, Kat, you’re intelligent, pretty and too young to give up on love. Don’t let Marty’s death take you out of the running completely.”

“Says the woman who swore off men even before she graduated high school.” As soon as the words left her lips, Kat regretted them.

Tazer straightened, her lips firming into a tight line. “I have good reasons.”

“I know.” Kat pushed off the wall and laid a hand on Tazer’s arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Tazer had been raped when she was only sixteen years old. Not many people knew that. Tazer had sworn from that point on, she’d never be in a position where a man overpowered her again, and she’d lived up to her own promise.

Kat squeezed her arm. “You deserve to find love more than I do. I had it once.”

“This isn’t about me.” Tazer shrugged off Kat’s hand. “It’s about you. Don’t think you can sidetrack me into discussing my love life.”

Kat snorted. “Or lack thereof.”

“You took the plunge once. It was good, but he died.”

Kat winced. “Could you soften it up just a little?”

“No. You need the cold hard truth. Just because Marty died doesn’t mean you have to die with him. He was full of life and excitement. He’d want you to go on.”

The back of Kat’s throat closed and she fought for control. “I know. Just don’t push me. I’m not ready.”

Tazer’s gaze softened. “Fair enough. I’ve been known to be pushy on occasion.”

Kat barked a shaky laugh. “Try all the time.”

“I wouldn’t be such a pushy bitch if I didn’t care.”

“I know.” Kat smiled. She couldn’t ask for a truer friend.

Tazer was known for her straightforward, call-it-like-it-is lack of sugarcoating. But she was there when Kat needed her. “What’s the doctor’s verdict on your brother?”

“He’ll live, but he can’t race on Saturday or anytime in the next six weeks.”

Tazer frowned. “I guess that means you’ll be taking up the reins or whatever it is you call the steering wheel on a dogsled, huh?”

“Handlebar,” Kat answered automatically before she thought through what Tazer said. She threw her hands in the air. “What’s with you and Paul thinking I’m ready to jump into the race from hell after barely arriving in the state?”

“Look, sweetie, you can deny it all you want, but you know you love it. That’s all you used to talk about when you first came to the agency.”

“Was I that bad?”

“Worse.” Her smile softened her words. “I learned more than I ever wanted to know about dogs, sleds and mushing. If you don’t do this race, I’ll kick your butt from here all the way back to D.C. Besides, it’s your duty to be there in case tall, blond and gorgeous gets into trouble.”

“If I do this race—and I’m not saying I will—it’ll be because of the sabotage, not because I want to race.”

“You say potato, I say potahto. As long as you get the job done. I’ll let the boss know you’re on the clock.”

“Great, one more person to twist my arm on this.”

“You don’t need to race.” That deep voice that made her knees act funny spoke from the doorway behind her. “You haven’t been training. It wouldn’t be advisable.”

Kat spun to face Sam, her heart hammering faster than was warranted. “You don’t think I can make it?” Wobbly knees stiffened and her jaw firmed.

“Paul should know better than to throw you into a race you’re not ready for.”

Her hackles rose but she kept her face pokerstraight. “Don’t you think I’m capable of making my own decisions?” She planted a sweet smile on her face, ignoring the scent of his aftershave, a tantalizing aroma she tried to tell herself she didn’t even like. But she’d be lying.

He stood with his feet slightly spread and his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s your funeral.”

Who did this Norse god think he was, telling her she couldn’t hack a little eleven-hundred-mile race? Forcing confidence she really didn’t feel, she smiled up at him. “Thanks.” Then she turned to her brother, her blood slamming through her veins. “If it’s all the same to you, bro, I’ll be taking your dogs on the Iditarod.”

Chapter Three

If Sam thought it would have done any good, he’d have argued until he was blue. But from what he’d learned from Paul, Kat was a stubborn woman. When she settled on an idea, she held on to it like a pit bull in a dogfight. If he hadn’t been worried about her, he might have appreciated her confidence and strong will.

Luck of the draw had Sam leaving as number twenty-seven at the Wasilla start point behind Paul’s twenty-three. Or should he say Kat’s twenty-three? The officials had approved the replacement at the last minute, knowing her past racing history.

Sam had barely spoken to Paul and Kat the past two days. He felt as if Paul had coerced her into following Sam to keep him safe. He didn’t like the idea of being assigned a babysitter to dog his every step on the trail. He didn’t need anybody to watch his back.

He packed his rifle and handgun in the three hundred pounds of gear and equipment on the sled. Many mushers brought weapons in the event a cranky moose decided to attack. If animal or human tried something funny during the race, Sam was prepared.

Paul insisted Kat was only taking over his position in the competition because his dogs deserved a chance to win. Sam knew better. Paul was more worried about the sabotage than his dogs making a good show.

As the dogs dipped down into a ravine and back up to climb the slight rise before Knik, Sam braced himself for the onslaught. Well-wishers lined the path to see family and friends off at the last stop before they headed into the wilderness.

A slew of people milled about at the checkpoint with a collection of trucks scattered across the snow.

“Whoa!” Sam called out to his team. He eased down on the brake, digging the snow hook into the hard-packed snow as he pulled to a stop next to Vic’s old pickup.

Paul sat inside, with the door open, his injured foot wrapped in a blanket and secured with duct tape.

With her coat collar pulled up around her cheeks, Tazer stood beside the truck, a soft gray headband protecting her ears from the bitter wind, her nose bright pink.

Working with the veterinarian, Vic walked the line of dogs, scanning microchips, checking paws, booties and necklines until they reached the sled.

“You’re good to go.” The vet checked off the paperwork and nodded before heading off to the next arrival.

Sam flexed his gloved hands, tugged his wool scarf down below his chin and strode over to the truck.

“Kat pulled through ten minutes ago.” Paul reached out a hand and shook Sam’s. “She said she’d meet you at Yentna, if you can catch her. All I can say is good luck, buddy. She’s a tough competitor. And my team knows her and vice versa.”

Sam nodded, relieved Kat planned to compete rather than play nursemaid to him. Although he’d kept his eyes open for signs of her powder-blue jacket and pants.