Alaskan Hearts. Teri Wilson

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СКАЧАТЬ a beard? It seems as though everyone here has one.”

       Ben ran his free hand over his strong jawline as they walked toward the revolving doors. “I guess I’ve had it for most of my adult life. This is short, though. It barely qualifies.”

       “Look at that one.” She pointed to a Gold Rush Trail poster, propped on an easel by the registration desk. The poster featured a close-up photograph of a musher with a thick, heavy beard, dripping with icicles. “Beards must be an Alaskan thing.”

       “Actually, they’re more of a keeping-warm thing.” Ben gave the poster an almost wistful once-over before looking back down at his coffee.

       “Does it work?”

       “The beard?” He laughed. “I guess you could say it does.”

       Ben pushed the door open for her and she stepped outside. The cold air bit at her nose and her teeth chattered.

       “Maybe I should try growing one, although I’m not sure I could pull it off.” She lifted her chin. “What do you think?”

       He reached toward her and cupped her chin with a gentle graze of his fingertips. “I think you look beautiful just the way you are.”

       His hand was rough, masculine. Clementine grew instantly warm despite the snow flurries swirling in the wind. In fact, she experienced an almost-melting sensation in her limbs. “So no beard, then?”

       Ben frowned and pulled away so quickly that Clementine wondered if she had only just imagined the unexpected tenderness of the moment. “No beard.”

       The pleasant warmth coursing through her cooled. For that, Clementine was grateful. Falling for Ben Grayson wasn’t part of her plan for her trip to Alaska. She took a step and fell—literally—into Ben’s solid chest.

       “Here, hold on to me.” Ben hitched her dog carrier farther up on her shoulder before tucking her arm through his. “Let’s go get you some new shoes.”

       They walked arm-in-arm through the streets of downtown Aurora, sipping their coffee, with Kodiak trotting out in front. A comfortable silence settled between them. Every so often, Clementine sneaked a look at Ben. Once or twice, she found him watching her as well.

       His words resonated in her mind. I think you look beautiful just the way you are. And she realized she felt beautiful. She wondered if it was because she’d finally come to the realization that God wanted more for her life. Or maybe it had something to do with the man walking beside her. She couldn’t be sure, but she preferred the first option.

       “Here we are.” Ben patted her arm and pulled her to a halt. Kodiak paused as well and looked back at them. “Are you ready to try on some shoes?”

       Clementine took in the yellow Army Surplus sign in the shop window in front of her, as well as the mannequins dressed in army fatigues. She looked down at her own faux fur-trimmed parka and glanced back at Ben. “You’re joking, right?”

       “Trust me.”

       She eyed the sly smile on his well-formed lips with suspicion. “It’s hard to trust you when you’re smirking.”

       “I’m not smirking,” he said with a smirk.

       “Yes, you are.”

       “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. You just look so traumatized at the idea of shopping here.” His smirk morphed into an ear-splitting grin.

       Maybe he really was joking after all. “So we’re going somewhere else?”

       “Nope.” His lips twitched, obviously in an effort to keep a straight face. “Trust me. Your feet will stay warm and you’ll stop slipping and sliding all over the place.”

       “Okay.” She sighed and cast a fond farewell glance toward her pink boots, although she had to admit they weren’t at all practical. Ben was right. She’d never be able to handle sled dogs—or much else, for that matter—in these shoes.

       They tossed their empty coffee cups in the trash can outside. Ben gave Kodiak a down command and ordered him to stay put. The husky watched with his warm gold eyes as Ben led Clementine into the store with a protective hand on her elbow.

       He ushered her to the front counter where a bored-looking young man glanced up at them from his newspaper. “Can I help you?”

       “You sure can.” Ben smiled, his dimples flashed and he looked a bit too pleased for Clementine’s taste.

      Trust him.

       He slid his gaze toward Clementine and winked.

       The wink floated through her, like a snowflake on a soft breeze.

       Then Ben turned his attention back toward the sales clerk. “We need some bunny boots.”

      * * *

       “Did you say bunny boots?” Clementine’s voice rose an octave, her eyes glimmered with surprise and she glanced down at Nugget, snoozing away in the confines of her dog carrier.

       Where, no doubt, the dog’s pint-sized paws were encased in those crazy bunny slippers.

       “Don’t get too excited.” Her delighted reaction caused a definite stir in Ben’s heart. “They don’t have ears.”

       “I didn’t think they had ears.” Her cheeks took on a pleasant rosy hue.

       Ben wasn’t sure he believed her. Ears or not, she willingly gave the kid behind the counter her size. While he disappeared to the stockroom, Clementine shrugged out of her parka and situated herself on a bench. Once Nugget’s dog carrier was settled next to her feet, she removed her pink suede slippers. Ben couldn’t help but notice her socks were pink as well.

      Of course.

       All the while, Ben watched her, counting the seconds and waiting for her to break.

       One…two…three.

       “Okay, I’ll bite.” She threw her hands up. “What are bunny boots?”

       Ben raised his brows in appreciation. “Three seconds. Wow, you held out longer than I expected.”

       “I’m a pretty patient person.”

       “Good.” He nodded. “That will serve you well later on this afternoon at your handling class.”

       She narrowed her gaze at him, but he could see the slight flicker of nerves cross her features. Good. He hoped she was nervous. Nervous enough to skip the class and give the paw ointment proposition a fair amount of consideration.

       Her glare intensified. “Are you going to tell me or not?”

       Maybe she wasn’t nervous. It must have been wishful thinking on his part. “They aren’t actually called bunny boots. That’s just a widely used nickname.”

       “For?”

       “For extreme cold weather vapor boots. They were originally designed by the army for military СКАЧАТЬ