Let There Be Love: The Sled Dog Series, Book 1 Read online

  Lauren pressed the call button as soon as she recognized that a phone number had been given. The paper had called her father one of the top racers of his decade, and now the blog had said the same thing about this Shane guy. She no longer had a job, a home, anything.

  It felt like everything was leading her to this one place, so she took a deep breath and stepped toward her calling.

  About a week later, Lauren found herself driving up a long, lonely stretch of road. Snow walled her in on every side and the pure, clean sky merged perfectly with the thick powder on the ground.

  It had taken her eight days of non-stop organizing to wrap things up in New York, and she was ready for this clean break from her life. As expected, her father’s funeral had been well attended, and thanks to his intense commitment to keeping everything neat and tidy, readying the house for sale hadn’t taken much, either.

  He’d left her a neat bundle and a modest nest egg with which she could build something new for herself. She would be okay, but she wasn’t quite sure as to the particulars yet.

  An eagle soared into her view from above, and she wondered if it might be a good omen. Freedom. She hadn’t realized she’d needed freeing from her life, but free she had become.

  Might as well make the most of it.

  As she drove farther and farther from Anchorage, she started to wonder whether she’d missed a turn off. But given that there were hardly any turn offs, twists, or anything other than straight, flat road, she couldn’t see how that would be possible.

  Finally, at last, when Lauren was certain she’d fall asleep at the wheel from the boring monotony of white, white, and more white, straight, straight, and more straight, she found an old, worn sign that proclaimed Puffin Ridge just ahead.

  “Just” of course was relative, because after her turn she still needed to drive another half hour to find the address she’d scrawled onto a sticky note and slapped upon the dash.

  1847 Thornfield Way loomed perfectly into view as she navigated her way down an icy incline and toward a homely looking cabin made of red cedar and situated amidst the clearing of a large pine forest.

  Her brakes stuck as she attempted to slow, but luckily there was more than enough snow to pad her stop. Here it was, her new home for the next three to twelve months.

  She applied a fresh coat of lip gloss and ran her hands through her chestnut hair, using the rearview mirror to check her appearance. Good enough, she decided and grabbed up her shoulder bag to head inside.

  A middle-aged woman with gray liberally streaked through her strawberry blonde hair greeted Lauren at the door. Oh no, had she missed that turn after all? Was this the wrong house?

  “You must be Lauren. Come inside before you catch your death,” the woman said with big sweeping gestures as she ushered Lauren in.

  “Hi, are you Shane’s… wife?” The woman looked more of the age to be his mother, but Lauren didn’t want to insult her when she may well be the only person around for miles.

  The woman laughed heartily, and Lauren immediately liked her from that moment on. “Goodness no. I’m Mary Fairbanks. I’m the next closest thing to a neighbor Mr. Ramsey has, so I’ve been filling in while he was short of help. Speaking of, now that you’re here, I best be off. I have a casserole in the oven back home.”

  Lauren found it odd that a woman at least a dozen years Shane’s senior would be calling him Mr., but she was far more concerned about being left alone when she had no idea what was expected of her.

  “Wait,” she pleaded. “Is Shane here? Can you take me to him before you go?”

  “Mr. Ramsey,” Mary enunciated over the ruckus of barking that rose from outside. “And, no, he’s gone to town for a doctor’s appointment. It’s just you and the dogs this afternoon. Why don’t you go say hi? They’re out back in the kennels, as I’m sure you guessed.” She looped a thick home-knit scarf around her neck, then shrugged into her coat. “I really need to go, but we’ll see each other again sometime soon. Nice to meet you, dear,” she said as she reached for the door knob. She paused and looked back at Lauren as if forgetting something. “Oh, and good luck.”

  Lauren thought she heard the old woman murmur “you’ll need it” as she stomped down the walk and out of view.

  Lauren watched Mrs. Fairbanks until she disappeared over the horizon, leaving her alone in the strange, new place that would now be her home. The house was messily kept with stray papers cluttering many a surface and a basket of laundry crowding the narrow hallway.

  Would this be her job now, too?

  She was here for the dogs, no question, but wondered if perhaps the man might need her even more. Had she taken on more than she could handle?

  No, life with Shane Ramsey and his merry team of huskies may prove to be a challenge yet, but at the very least it would be interesting—and at best, it might help her uncover secrets about her father’s past.

  And she would start by saying hello to her charges.

  After fishing a knit cap from her bag, she headed out back where several long rows of colorful, flat-topped dog houses sat in sharp contrast to the surrounding mountains of snow. As soon as they saw her, the dogs began to pull against their ties, some of them jumping up on top of their houses to gain a better vantage point.

  Excited barks, whines, and howls reverberated across the valley. And Lauren knew then that she had made the right choice in coming here.

  Carefully, she approached the cluster of kennels and introduced herself to the first dog, who eagerly leaped up to give her kisses on her cheeks.

  One by one, Lauren made her way through the grid of houses, introducing herself to each dog in turn. Her eye was drawn to one dog in particular, a red husky who stood calmly at the edge of the pack, watching Lauren with a cautious eye.

  “Aren’t you a pretty one?” Lauren said, making her way over to the dog and kneeling to allow it to sniff her.

  A glistening copper tag hung from the dog’s collar.

  “Briar Rose, huh?” Lauren said, scratching her new friend between the ears. “Well, that’s a pretty name. And what about the rest of you?”

  She turned, startled to find that she was not alone in the yard.

  “I thought they were sending a professional, someone with experience,” said a man she recognized from his pictures as her new employer, Shane Ramsey. He scowled as he watched her, clearly displeased with what he saw.

  “And how do you know I haven’t got any?” she demanded, rising to her full height but still standing at least a head beneath the stranger who stood supported by two thick wooden crutches.

  “Every single thing about you shows you aren’t cut out for this,” he snarled.

  “Can we start again, please?” She approached the gate and let herself out to stand with him in the path that had been cleared between the house and the kennels. Reaching out her gloved hand, she smiled and waited for him to accept her greeting.

  “I’d rather not,” he said, gathering up his crutches and turning back toward the house.

  “Now wait just a minute!” Lauren cried. The sound of her voice cut sharply through the thin air, both alarming the man and exciting the dogs.

  She watched as his posture stiffened and he slowly turned himself to face her once more. As he did, however, his left crutch caught a patch of ice, and soon he’d crumpled into the snow, cursing in pain.

  “Let me help you up!”

  “No, you’ve done quite enough already,” he said. “Just hand me my crutch and leave me alone.”

  She picked up the walking aid and held it toward him. When he reached for it, she jerked it away and said, “Not until you tell me why you’re so rude.”

  He growled, making a sound not entirely human as he did. The effect, when combined with the growth on his face, gave him a feral appearance. “Because you aren’t the kind of person I wanted to hire. But seeing as there weren’t any other applicants, it seems I’m stuck.”

  “Then you should be grateful I’m here. Clearly yo
u can’t manage by yourself.”

  “I’m not sure having an inexperienced little girl here is much better.”

  “Don’t talk to me like that.”

  He snorted and looked away.

  “I mean it. I quit my job and moved a few thousand miles to be here. I may not have much experience, but I’m ready to learn. You need to treat me with respect.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then know that I have no problem standing up to you, seeing as I’m the only one with two good legs around here.” She stood as straight and tall as she could, and even though he still towered over her by a good head, Lauren saw him soften as her argument reached his ears.

  Much to her surprise, that last comment drew out a smile from the otherwise sour-faced Shane. “Fine. Now can I have my crutch back, please?”

  She handed it over and helped pull him to his feet. “There, now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  He walked away, muttering a string of curses under his breath. Lauren and the dogs watched in silence until Shane Ramsey had let himself back into the house and slammed the door shut behind him.

  “Is he always like this?” she asked Briar Rose, slipping her fingers through the fence links to pat the dog’s soft fur.

  The dog didn’t respond to the question, but Lauren was quite sure she could figure out this particular answer for herself.

  Lauren spent the next hour in the company of the dogs. She read the names on their collars and matched them to each dog’s unique markings and personality. Briar Rose had quickly become her favorite, even though she didn’t seem to fit in well with the others—not just her calmer demeanor and slighter build, but also her name.

  The other huskies and malamutes were named predictable plain things like Alice, Bob, Carol, Dennis, and so on. In fact, there was a name for each letter of the alphabet—and Briar Rose made twenty-seven total.

  While all the dogs were happy to spend time with Lauren, Briar Rose was the one who stuck to her side for the whole of the hour. Lauren was very tempted to bring Briar into the house so she would have at least one friend inside, but she preferred to avoid added confrontation with Shane. After all, it was very likely he’d consider her making a pet of his sled dog “unprofessional.”

  She settled for a quick goodbye and promise to see the dog again bright and early in the morning, then made her way inside to see about dinner.

  Her employer had beaten her to it, though. Shane stood hunched over a boiling pot of water, struggling with a box of spaghetti as he tried to keep himself propped up on his crutches and away from the splash zone of the roiling water. He wore plaid pajama bottoms and a button-down shirt. His feet were bare, which seemed a mistake in this weather even with being indoors.

  “Let me help with that,” she offered, rushing across the small eat-in kitchen before she even had a chance to remove her coat or boots.

  Shane jerked the box out of her reach, accidentally flinging half its contents to the floor. “Now look what you made me do!”

  “I didn’t make you do anything. That’s all you and your stubbornness.” She stooped down to pick up the scattered noodles, but Shane interrupted her again.

  “If it’s my mess, then I’ll clean it up.” She watched as he lowered himself to the ground, fresh pain evident in his features every inch of the way. And she allowed him to struggle on his own as she removed her winter gear and pulled her hair up into a high ponytail. During that time, he made hardly a dent at all in the cleaning.

  “Why am I here?” she demanded, stooping down and forcing him to look her in the eye. “If you’re going to insist on doing everything yourself, then why did you hire me?”

  “I didn’t hire you, the SDRO hired you for me,” he reminded her with a muted grumble.

  “Okay, fine, but regardless, I’m here to help. Can you just let me?” She glared at him still, but the hulking, muscular man refused to keep her gaze.

  “If that’s how you want it, then be my guest,” he said, gesturing toward the remaining mess and almost losing his balance yet again in the process.

  “First let me help you up,” she said.

  He groaned but submitted as she looped his arm over her shoulder and pulled him to his feet. Despite his injuries, Shane was still strong and able to bear the brunt of his own weight once Lauren helped him to regain his balance. That was good, seeing as he easily outweighed her by eighty pounds. They were a study in contrasts. Him a large, lumbering, and wild-looking man. Her a small, trim woman whose appearance was neatly kept and movements graceful.

  Shane stiffened, bringing them both to a stop. “No, not to the chair. I need to finish making dinner,” he argued.

  “What’s for dinner? Spaghetti? I think I can manage that.” She took him to the small kitchen table and sat him down before his mess of papers.

  He said nothing as she finished cleaning the debris from the checker-tiled floor and then making their dinner with the noodles that hadn’t already gone to waste. Placing a bowl of pasta marinara before him, she turned to go find solace in her room.

  “Wait,” Shane said without looking up.

  “Yes?”

  “Join me for dinner at least.”

  “Oh, so now you want to talk, do you?”

  He shrugged and glanced at her for a brief moment, his ocean blue eyes clearly concealing secrets within their depths. “I want to learn about this stranger who will be living in my house, yes.”

  “Okay then.” Lauren prepared a bowl for herself and sat opposite of him, nudging some papers out of the way to avoid turning them into impromptu placemats. “So what do you want to know?”

  He put his fork down and stared at her head on. His eyes were unabashed in sharing their assessment—he didn’t trust her, not yet. “I want to know why you’re here,” he said.

  “To help you. We’ve been over that.”

  “But why? The organization said you were from New York, and we’ve also already been over the fact that you have no experience, so let me ask again: Why are you here?”

  Well, if he didn’t trust her, then she didn’t trust him either. Why else would he be so naturally suspicious of her unless he had something to hide? With any luck, she could stay just long enough to help the dogs, uncover the mystery about her father’s past, and figure out what she wanted to do next. Then she could cut her losses with the grumpy Mr. Shane Ramsey and leave him far, far behind.

  She met his eyes, refusing to blink or look away. “I’m here to do a job. That’s all you need to know.”

  “I see. So that’s how you want it.” He smiled to himself, picked up his fork, and returned his attention to eating.

  “That seems to be how you want it, and I’m happy to comply.” She raised her fork too, a challenge—she would take whatever he had to throw at her, but she wouldn’t take it sitting down.

  “Very well,” he said.

  “Very well.” They finished their meal in silence and then went their separate ways for the remainder of the evening.

  By the time night rolled around, Lauren found herself exhausted from the long day of travel, meeting the dogs, and from her run-ins with Shane Ramsey. She found her bedroom easily enough. It was the one with her name plastered on the door, much like the dogs’ names were displayed on placards atop each of their bright little houses.

  Inside she found a simple twin bed with a flannel set of sheets, which matched Shane’s pajamas almost perfectly. A stack of blankets lay neatly at the foot of the bed. In fact, everything about this room was neat, tidy, and sterile. It didn’t match the rest of the house at all. The walls were white, and the wood of the bed frame and matching dresser were light pine. Even the carpet was a soft beige, which had somehow managed to remain stain free despite its light color.

  Lauren retrieved her luggage and went about making the room a tad more lived in. She started by unpacking a framed photo of her and her father from this past Christmas and setting it up neatly on her nightstand. There she found a stack of
papers held together with a red paperclip.

  It said House Rules at the top in huge bold font.

  She rolled her eyes and turned the page where a lengthy bulleted list followed a short introductory paragraph:

  Lauren Dalton, hereafter called The Handler, will abide by the following rules while she is living in residence at the home and place of business of one Shane Ramsey, hereafter referred to as The Employer.

  Lauren rolled her eyes again and let out a long sigh. If this kept up, she’d find herself permanently scarred from the whole ridiculous experience. She drew her eyes back to the page and continued reading:

  PART I.

  Section 1. The Handler shall sleep and spend her leisure time in the white room. She may have free rein of the house—excepting the areas outlined in Section 2—provided she does not intrude on the privacy or comfort of The Employer.

  Section 2. The Handler is not allowed to enter either the master bedroom or the outside shed under any circumstances. These areas are for The Employer alone.

  PART II.

  Section 1. The Handler is expected to prepare two nutritionally balanced meals per day for both herself and The Employer as well as for the dogs.

  Section 2. The Handler will run the dogs daily by taking them out one at a time and sticking to the marked path along the property, unless otherwise instructed by The Employer.

  Section 3. The Handler must keep up all property and assets in accordance with…

  And so it went for another three equally boring pages. At least she assumed they’d be boring. She just didn’t have the patience to read Shane’s ridiculous rules any farther. This was going to be a long stay, even if she managed to get out of there before the three months were up. Lauren skimmed the thing, found a place to sign and date, and then returned it to the kitchen table as instructed.

  Afterward, she changed into her own pajamas, which were thankfully not flannel like the rest of her bedding, and tucked into bed with her eReader. She’d started a new book on the flight up and only had a few chapters left until she could find out how it ended.