after the competition.'
'We aren't going to see each other tonight?'
He reached out and cupped her cheek in his palm. 'Sweetheart, I think you better get some rest tonight.'
'All right,' Perrie said. 'It's a date. I'll see you tomorrow.'
Joe shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and nodded. 'Yeah, a date. I'll come down tomorrow morning and get you. We'll ride into Muleshoe together.'
'That would be nice,' Perrie said.
He whistled a cheery tune as he walked back down the path to the lodge. He'd never really set much store in romance. But he had to admit that a handmade valentine had touched Perrie's heart. His mind flashed an image of her reaction and he smiled to himself.
He was through with waiting. The next time he touched Perrie Kincaid, he wouldn't stop until every desire, every secret fantasy they shared had been completely satisfied.
Chapter Eight
Every person in Muleshoe, from the smallest child to the town's oldest citizen, one-hundred-year-old prospector Ed Bert Jarvis, gathered on Main Street to watch the games. In the middle of a long winter, any social activity was hailed as an 'event.' And this year's event was even more special.
Ed Bert, born in the year of Muleshoe's 'boom,' served as the grand marshal of the parade, a ragtag collection of decorated pickup trucks, dogsleds, snowmobiles and a pair of bicycles. They were accompanied by the town band, which consisted of Wally Weller on trumpet, his wife, Louise, on saxophone, and son, Wally Jr., on drums.
Perrie had never seen anything like it. Though the temperature still hovered around zero, no one seemed to notice. Fur parkas and mukluks were standard uniform for half the population, while the more stylish half chose down jackets and Sorel boots. No one stayed home.
She'd convinced Paddy Doyle to cover the event as a stringer for the
The brides' competition had been scheduled for mid-afternoon, the final event after the general competition for the townsfolk. Contests of strength and speed were interspersed with a bed race, an ice-carving contest and an event that involved stuffing as many pickled eggs into a competitor's mouth as humanly possible.
To Perrie's surprise, the three brides from Seattle hadn't offered much competition in the snowshoe race. They had all dropped to the rear of the pack and watched excitedly as Perrie and four other women raced ahead. The four other competitors, all longtime Alaskan residents, hadn't entered to find a husband. Like Perrie, they were after the first prize.
Perrie managed to finish third behind a pair of sisters, trappers who ran their own mitten-sewing business from a cabin ten miles from town. They were stout women without Perrie's quickness. But then, they spent most of the winter walking around in snowshoes.
To Perrie's surprise, Joe met her at the finish line, offering words of encouragement as he helped her unstrap her snowshoes. Hawk joined them, and as the trio headed over to hitch up the dogs, both men gave her more advice on proper race strategy.
The dogsled competition was Perrie's best chance at a win. Hawk had informed her that his dogs were the fastest and best trained of all the teams. To add a measure of safety, the women didn't race together. Instead they covered a course of nearly a mile that wove in and out of town and were timed from start to finish.
Perrie nervously waited at the starting line, trying to keep the dogs from bolting in the excitement. Joe stood at the head of the team, hanging tight to Loki's collar. He sent Perrie a confident smile and a wink as she listened to Hawk's simple instructions.
'Don't let the team get away from you,' he said.
'You're always in control. Anticipate the turns and make sure the dogs are ready. Then balance yourself.'
Perrie glanced over at the woman who held the fastest time so far, a tall, slender competitor in her early forties whose brother had once raced in the Iditarod. 'She was fast,' Perrie murmured.
'She was smart,' Hawk countered as he stepped away from the sled. 'But you're faster.'
Joe let go of Loki's collar and joined Hawk on the sidelines. 'Go get 'em, Kincaid.'
Perrie took a deep breath and waited for the starter's gun. At the sound, she yanked out the snow hook and urged the dogs on, running behind the sled for the first twenty yards. In her nervousness, she nearly tripped and fell, but she gathered her composure and hopped on the back of the sled just in time to make the first turn off Main Street.
'Mush, boys,' she called, her voice gaining confidence as the sled gained speed. 'Come on, boys, mush!'
The race seemed to pass in a blur, the wind cold on her face and her breath coming in short gasps. The dogs responded well, as if their pride were at stake along with Perrie's. Loki anticipated each command and Perrie's turns were smooth and easy. When she reached the final straightaway, Perrie urged them on and she nearly flew down the snow-packed street.
She crossed the finish line to a rousing cheer from the crowd, then instantly forgot the command to stop the sled. Panicked, she shouted to the dogs as they ran right through a small crowd of onlookers beyond the finish line. Now that she'd given them a chance to run, they didn't want to stop.
She saw Joe's face pass by and wondered if the dogs would continue running until they got back to the lodge.
Finally a voice boomed over the crowd. 'Ho, Loki, ho!' Hawk called.
'Ho, Loki,' Perrie cried. 'Ho, damn it, ho!'
The dogs slowed, then stopped, and she tumbled off the back of the sled into the snow. A few moments later, Joe knelt down beside her, laughing and brushing the snow off her face.
'Are you all right?'
'I feel like an idiot,' Perrie muttered, sitting up. 'I couldn't remember how to stop them.'
'Well, lucky for you, they don't take off points for style. You gave the crowd a decent laugh.'
Perrie groaned and lay back down in the snow. 'How badly did I do?'
Joe bent down over her and grinned. 'You've got the best time so far. And the Seattle brides are the only ones left to race. Come on, get up. You need some rest before the wood-splitting competition if you're gonna win this thing. Hawk will tend to the dogs. I'll buy you a hot cocoa and we'll discuss your strategy.'
She let him pull her to her feet and he slipped his arm around her waist as they trudged back toward the crowd. Several of the town's single men came up to her to congratulate her on her time and inquire if she planned to attend the dance at Doyle's. She smiled and nodded, too exhausted to speak.
'I suspect your dance card will be full tonight,' Joe said in a tone that barely hid his irritation.
'Jealous?' she asked, wincing at a cramp in her foot.
'Of those guys?'
'You hold a rather high opinion of your charms, Brennan.'
He pulled her closer. 'I happen to know that my charms don't work on you. I'm just saying that if you do manage to win this competition, I can guarantee that you'll have more than a few proposals to consider before the evening's done-both decent and indecent.'
'And what kind of proposal are you planning to make?'
He stopped and looked down at her, his eyebrow cocked up in surprise. 'That depends,' he said slowly, 'on what kind of proposal you'll accept.'
Perrie knew where this bantering was leading and she wasn't sure what to reply. Ever since Joe had first touched her that night in her cabin, she'd thought of nothing else but what might happen the next time they were together. Would they make love? Or would something push them apart again, some doubt or misunderstanding?
And if they made love, what then? Would she wave goodbye and return to Seattle, filing Joe in among all the failed relationships and forgotten lovers in her past?
