Broken Trails

Moving out of the cabin, while the easiest way to achieve the space needed between them, would make Scotch question Lainey’s motives. Even the argument of requiring warmth for her ‘football injury’ would fall flat. They would both know the reality of the situation. It would only serve to highlight the attempted kiss in the dog barn, and Lainey had to draw the focus away from that.

No, she had to be the adult here, the experienced one. She had to stay put to allay Scotch’s fears yet not get intimately involved with her. It would be hell, but Lainey would just have to hang onto this demon for all it was worth. When the race was over, then and only then could she consider sitting Scotch down for a real heart to heart discussion about what was going on with her.

Lainey felt vaguely pleased with her decision, not to mention a bit perplexed at the self-imposed distance she would have to place between them. She would much rather do exactly what Howry had suggested and teach Scotch all the joys of loving a woman. She consoled herself with the knowledge that after the race, things would be different. If Scotch truly felt desire for her, Lainey would be more than happy to reciprocate.

She pushed away the rush of arousal that followed that particular notion. By the time they returned to the kennel, Lainey had set aside her internal debate. Her nerves still fluttered, but she was resolute. She drove the snow machine into the yard, hearing the welcome clamor from the dogs. Pulling up next to Scotch, she saw that Irish and Rye had already returned, their vehicles covered with a light dusting of still falling snow. She turned off the engine, and glanced at the woman beside her.

Scotch’s cheeks and nose were red from cold, her eyes sparkling as she grinned. She had yanked back her hood and tawny curls stuck out about her face, flakes of snow starting to settle there. Lainey’s heart ached as she returned the smile. Stay away from this? God was a cruel, cruel being.

“It’s looking really good,” Scotch said, climbing off the snow machine. She pulled off her thick gloves and opened the neck of her parka. “We can only hope the snow stays like this for the entire season!”

The vehicle shifted as Howry got off. “I think it’s time to switch to manual cameras,” he said, pulling a plastic bag from his pocket. He stuffed his camera inside and zipped it closed. “I ran out of film on the run. If I wind it now, it’ll shatter.”

“You can always switch to digital,” Lainey said sweetly, revisiting an old argument.

“Blasphemy,” he muttered. “A camera without real film is an abomination in the sight of the gods.”

Lainey smiled and swung her leg over the snow machine, remaining seated. She too removed her gloves. “Are we taking the dogs out today?”

“No. Let’s give the trails another run after lunch. Pack ‘em down some more. If it keeps coming down, we’ll do more tomorrow. The tighter we pack the trails now, the longer they’ll last if the temperature rises. It’s still early in the season; who knows what the weather will do?”

Standing, Lainey stretched with light misgiving as her ribs gave her a slight jab. The pain was far less than it should be after the extensive ride. They had spent a good three hours roaming the trails surrounding the kennel. By all rights, she should be emulating a rheumatic old woman.

“You okay?”

Lainey nodded at Howry. “Surprisingly. I’m glad I heeded Thom’s advice. That jacket I had last March was crap.”

Without warning, Scotch reached out and grabbed her right hand, forcing Lainey to raise it above her head. The ache was bearable, and completely overshadowed by Scotch’s skin against hers.

“You know that liniment we use for wrist injuries?” she asked, still focused on Lainey’s ribs.

Blushing at Howry’s smirk, she said, “Um, the one for strains and sprains?”

“Yeah.” Scotch released her. “I’d bet it’d work on your ribs.”

Howry snorted, no doubt entertained with the notion of Scotch possibly offering to apply it to the injury. Lainey so wanted to kick him in the shin, but knew she would have to explain herself to their witness afterward. Instead, she rolled her eyes. “It’s for dogs,” she reminded Scotch.

“It’s been used on people upon occasion.” She chuckled. “It might do the trick. You should give it a try.”

Scotch’s matter-of-fact tone made Lainey view the salve in another light. Its primary purpose was to ease joint aches in the wrists and shoulders of overworked dogs. It was a homegrown remedy created by God only knew who, but it seemed every musher worth his or her salt had a variation on the recipe. An herbal mixture, it was blended with petroleum jelly to give it substance and make it easy to apply. Scotch and her brother both swore by the stuff.

“All right,” Lainey conceded. “I’ll think about it.” Scotch opened her mouth to say something, and Lainey interrupted her. “I’ll think about it! Right now, though, I’m starved. Let’s get some lunch!”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Howry said, moving toward the back deck. Scotch grinned and nodded, dropping whatever she had been planning to say.

Lainey followed both of them, relief coursing through her. She had known exactly what Scotch was going to say. Despite Lainey’s recent pledge to avoid awkward situations with Scotch, there was no way she could deny her if she offered to apply ointment.

And that would be a bad, bad idea.

Scotch idled in front of the fire, her feet propped up on an old footstool she had liberated from a thrift store years ago. She wiggled her sock covered toes, and sipped a cup of hot chocolate.

The first snowfall of the season had been a good one. If things held up like this, training would be a breeze. She recalled the winter before last, unseasonably warm, and no major flurries to speak of. It had been bad enough that snow had to be trucked into Anchorage for the ceremonial start of the race. The first third of the journey had been treacherous with bared ground and free running water. A lot of mushers had been forced to scratch the race from injuries to their animals and broken equipment.

Not this year. Scotch relished her contentment. Even if it warmed up a bit, chances were it would not interfere with the hardening trails. After lunch, they had gone another round, packing the trails down for future runs. Tomorrow the sleds would come out and the training would begin in earnest.

The cabin door opened and Lainey stomped inside. A draft followed her, but Scotch was warm enough that the cool air felt nice.

“Still snowing?”

Lainey glanced over her shoulder as she hung her jacket on a peg. “No. It finally stopped.” She saw Scotch’s face and laughed as she moved down the stairs to return to the couch. “Give it a rest, Fuller! We got two feet today, maybe more.”

Scotch’s petulant frown eased into a smile. “Yeah, I guess.”

Snorting, Lainey kicked off her boots, tucking her feet back underneath a quilt. She leaned forward to retrieve her mug of tea and sank back with a sigh. “You know, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she said, staring into her cup.

Sudden wariness disrupted Scotch’s composure. She had been expecting this all day. Initially she had hoped that Lainey had not realized how close Scotch had come to kissing her. As the day progressed, however, there had been several moments where it seemed she wanted to discuss something. What was Scotch going to say when she asked what had happened? Sorry about the pass, but I’ve got a crush on you that just won’t quit?

Her silence was noticed, and she looked up to see Lainey watching her. “Uh, yeah?” she asked.

“Have you ever considered the benefits of chamber pots as opposed to out houses?”