Broken Trails (19 page)

Helen gave her an odd look.

Howry drained the glass in one swallow and wheezed. "Good!" he gasped.

"How long?"

"Four years, eleven months, and twenty-two days," Lainey said without a pause.

Helen gave her a respectful nod.

"What the hell is this?" Howry asked, handing her the glass.

Smug, Helen took it from him and set it on a nearby counter. "White lightning. Not everybody pays cash for my services, you know."

"Mom?"

"In here."

Scotch arrived in the door, her expression worried as she scanned Lainey's tear stained face.

"It's all right, Scotch. He'll be fine."

She leaned against the door jamb, and blew out a breath. "Good." She dislodged her cap and ran a hand through her hair.

"He's out of the running this year," Helen said. "But I expect him to heal up fine for another season."

Her manner was a weird echo to Irish's out at the sled, and Lainey fought to not laugh. She saw the answering humor in Scotch's eyes, and felt warmed to her toes.

Helen continued, not noticing their distraction. "Now I want both of you to get a change of clothes and get up to the main cabin for a hot shower. Thom should have the grill going by then, and dinner will be not long after." No one moved. "Scoot!"

"Yes, ma'am." Scotch grinned. "Come on," she said to the others, "before she gets out the broom to chase us."

Her mother snorted and turned away from them.

Out on the porch, Scotch turned to Lainey. "If you want, I can go get your clothes. You can go on up to the main cabin and get the first shower."

Was this an attempt to avoid discussing what happened out there? Lainey studied Scotch's face, liking the blush that sprang across her cheeks. No, this did not look like she was dodging the issue. She thought only to help Lainey deal with the emotional repercussions of the gun and killing.

Howry cleared his throat, his reporter instincts picking up the smell of a story.

"No, that's okay," Lainey said. "We'll go together."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Lainey raised an eyebrow at her colleague. "We'll see you there."

Howry squinted his eyes at her, knowing something was up. He also knew he would get nothing now, so he smiled. "You got it." He trotted down the steps and toward the main cabin where a fire blazed merrily in the barrel barbecue on the deck.

Lainey was still warm enough in her bibbed snow pants that she did not don her parka. It was stained with blood from both Cochise and the moose, and she hoped a thorough laundering would remove the worst of the discoloration. She carried it in the hook of one elbow as they left the clinic.

Scotch had a small flashlight which she used to illuminate their way along the now familiar path. Lainey remembered her first time down this trail, sunlit at ten o'clock at night, lugging gear and belongings, and dreading being alone with her lust object. Now it was barely five in the afternoon and dark.

She reached for Scotch's hand, smiling as their fingers twined together. Squeezing, she felt the answering grasp.

At the cabin, she reluctantly released Scotch and followed her inside. "Let me stoke up the fire," Scotch said, heading down into the living area. "You go get your things."

Lainey stood on the landing, a fond smile on her face as she watched her friend hunker before the banked coals in the fireplace. As Scotch stirred them to life and added kindling, the orange glow both highlighted and silhouetted her, warming her.

When Scotch rose, Lainey was beside her. She turned, startled at their proximity. She swallowed hard. "Thought you were going to get your things."

"I've got something more important to do," Lainey said. She took Scotch's hands in hers and leaned close, kissing her.

At first, the kiss was as gentle as it had been on the trail. As Lainey debated escalating it, Scotch beat her to the punch, her tongue brushing Lainey's lower lip in polite request. Her mouth opened, and Scotch slipped inside to explore with lazy insistence. Lainey moaned against the welcome invasion. She released Scotch's hands, her fingers finally enjoying the softness of those tawny curls that had so interested her in the beginning. They stepped into each other, and she felt strong arms encircle her waist and shoulder as Scotch tasted her, warm hands roaming her back and sides.

It seemed to go on forever, yet hardly lasted a blink of the eye as Scotch toned things down. She drew back, humming in amusement as Lainey tried to force the issue, and eventually pulled away. Lainey grumbled under her breath, but secretly reveled in the lips caressing her nose and eyelids.

"I've been wanting to do that with you for a long time," Scotch whispered, resting their foreheads together.

Lainey's fingers stroked the back of Scotch's neck. "I've been wanting to do it longer."

Scotch drew back enough to look at her, a grin on her face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Ever since the first time I saw you."

She tilted her head. "At the banquet in Nome?"

Lainey chuckled, realizing it was time to confess. "No. Before the banquet. You helped a klutz of a woman to her feet that afternoon, and received nothing but an attitude for thanks."

Scotch looked blank for a moment. When she recalled the incident, she jerked back even more. "That was you?" she asked, a mixture of amusement and dismay on her face.

"Guilty as charged." She watched a myriad of emotions cross Scotch's expression and winced a little. "I made that bad of an impression?"

Laughing, Scotch hugged her. "At the time, yes. I think I can forgive you now, though. You were in pain from your ribs, weren't you?"

"Yeah, but that's not an excuse for rude behavior."

"Not in this family," Scotch agreed. "But you were an unsophisticated rube from Outside at the time. I can cut you some slack."

Lainey dropped her head, leaning against Scotch's chest. "Gee, thanks." She received a hug in response.

"About today . . ."

"Yeah, about today." Lainey stepped away. "As much as I would love to march you upstairs and show you a thing or two, I don't think we should."

"I agree."

Lainey blinked. "You do?"

Scotch grinned. She took Lainey's hand and led them to the couch. As they sat, she pulled Lainey close, draping an arm over her shoulders. "We've got a lot of energy invested in the race. I don't have much more to spare, and I don't think you do, either. We can't afford to be distracted."

"Like I haven't already been distracted," Lainey said, disgruntled. When the hell had Scotch gotten so responsible and adult? She certainly did not act like a lesbian on the verge of awakening to her sexuality.

"Man, do I agree with that." Scotch brought her free hand up to chuck Lainey's chin. "But we have time, and I think we can swing a wonderful celebration in Nome when we both get there."

"Is this enticement for the rookie?" Lainey asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No."

Scotch looked into her eyes and the world fell away. How had she missed the expressiveness in that sky blue color? She saw how much the waiting would affect Scotch, as much if not more than it would affect her. Lainey also saw the truth of their situation, the same truth she had arrived at a month ago when she barely avoided the last kiss. There was no time, and could be no distractions. Not yet. They had to focus on their teams and the ultimate goal.

Lainey nodded in understanding, pleased to see the answering agreement reflected back. Her reward was another long kiss, and she accepted in with relish.

"We should get our stuff," Scotch murmured when they were finished.

"Uh huh."

Neither of them moved.

"First one back down here gets another kiss?" she suggested.

Scotch bolted for the stairs, Lainey in hot pursuit.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

December

"ARE YOU READY?"

Lainey smiled at Scotch. "You bet." They were parked in the lot of an Anchorage hotel.

"Let's go then." She gave Lainey's hand a squeeze and released it to climb out of the truck.

Following suit, Lainey grabbed her notebook, camera and paperwork before stepping into the parking lot. Howry, Rye and Helen were waiting at the doors, and she made her way through the slush and snow toward them, Scotch behind her. It was too bad they had the company. She might have been able to talk Scotch into a room for the night. The idea of enjoying a leisurely necking session in the sauna did wonderful things to Lainey's libido.

"Got your paperwork?" Howry asked.

"Oh, yeah," Lainey said. "And a whole lot of paper for notes."

He held the door open for them. "Some techno geek you are," he snorted. "I thought for sure you'd make a digital recording of the entire meeting."

She grinned and fished an iPod and accompanying microphone from her pocket. "Might not get it all, but I should be able to get half of it before the batteries go."

Howry shook his head as he shared laughter with the Fullers.

The hotel lobby was crowded. Lainey wondered if everyone lounging out here were going to the mandatory rookie meeting. There were only thirty-two rookies registered, but there seemed far more than that number milling around the foyer. December in Anchorage was not the ideal place for a vacation.

Rye returned from the front desk. "Meeting's in the Redington ballroom," he said.

Scotch led the way and moments later Lainey stood before a registration table with her paperwork in hand.

The Inuit woman behind the table stood up, a smile on her broad face. She bustled around, arms wide. "Helen! I heard you were speaking today! It's so good to see you!"

"And you," Helen said, returning the hug. "Doris, you remember Scotch and Rye, my children?"

Doris beamed at the siblings. "I most certainly do. Scotch, you did a wonderful job last year. I bet Rye will give you a run for your money when he's old enough to enter, though."

"I don't doubt that," Scotch said with a laugh. Rye grinned, though his face reddened.

"And this is Don Howry. He's doing a series of articles on Scotch for Cognizance magazine."

Howry shook Doris' hand.

"This is Lainey Hughes. She's a photo journalist for Cognizance, and is our resident rookie this year." Helen turned to the reporters. "Doris is one of our most avid volunteers. She's assisted the vets at the checkpoints for . . . how many years?"

Doris waved Helen away. "Fourteen, but who's counting?" She bobbed behind her table, suddenly all business. "Lainey Hughes?" Peering closely at her paperwork, she said, "Ah, here it is. I'll need you to sign in, dear."

Lainey signed the sheet of paper, handed over her required paperwork and received more in return.

When the transaction was complete, Doris shook her hand. "Welcome to the Iditarod, Miss Hughes. I hope you have a wonderful race. There's a coffee station right there, and then you go on in and have a seat."

"Thank you."

The room was fairly spacious with a stage and podium at the front. Several rows of narrow tables were set up, giving the place the appearance of a school room. Additional chairs lined the back wall, and Rye and Howry found seating there. Scotch directed her forward.

"Mom and I are speaking, so we're in the front row. You want to sit behind us?"

"Sure." They found places, and dropped their heavy coats.

"Scotch Fuller!"

They both turned to see a man waving at them from across the room.

Grinning, Scotch said, "I'll be right back."

Lainey nodded and sat down, watching her greet the man with a hug. It was nice seeing Scotch as she worked the room. The confidence that had first drawn Lainey was out in full force today. She encountered friends and acquaintances and met newcomers alike, greeting each as if they were long lost comrades. Scotch never seemed to need to be on guard; she had a strength of will that sheltered her from the pettiness of others with ease. Any negative feelings simply slid off her back like so much water. Sighing, Lainey enjoyed the show. Every once in awhile, Scotch would look her way and they would share a smile that warmed Lainey's heart.

There had been many nights of kisses since their first, but nothing more. Both of them had agreed to take things slow. Indeed, Lainey considered it glacially slow. They had little choice, however. The dogs were racking up forty miles a day, five days a week, with training sessions lasting through lunch and into the afternoon. Soon they would graduate to all night sessions, as well. There was simply no time to indulge in her late night fantasies when they were both exhausted from running dogs. Their days off were just as busy with tours, chores, and articles to write.

Lainey allowed thoughts of training to take her mind off Scotch, and she considered her current team.

Cochise had been benched for the season, his injuries severe enough that he still resided in the heated dog barn rather than out in the kennel with the rest of the dogs. Fortunately, he was not alone, as there had been a late batch of puppies born. They and their mother were in one of the stalls, as well. As things remained on Lainey's team, her leaders, Trace and Sholo, would make the final cut barring further accidents. It seemed that one of her swing dogs, Montana, was also developing into a leader. She had started putting him in the harness with one of the other two to give him more time at the front of the pack. It was now a matter of keeping his spirits up with the proper praise without undermining his confidence when he made mistakes.

If she took Bonaparte, she would have to take Kaara. They were a package deal. Meshindi worked well with everybody, but Bonaparte was a snob. Lainey was not sure his skill as a swing dog outweighed the hassle he could create when his back was up. She had learned the hard way, stuck out on the trail one stormy afternoon when the stubborn mutt staged a mutiny because she had forgotten his favorite snack. In retaliation, she had refused to run him for a week. It seemed to have done the trick - Bonaparte had the brains to make the connection between his behavior and the punishment - but if he pulled a stunt like that on the Iditarod, she could be stuck for hours. Granted, her chances of winning a thousand mile race were minuscule, but those hours could count at keeping her from being the last musher into Nome.