Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Before anyone can answer, one of the mushers walks into our circle. “Hate to break up the party, but we’re ready to get going. Anyone feel confident enough to do some steering?”
“Me,” North says quickly and we all laugh.
We down the rest of our cocoa and head back to the sleds for the return trip. All the guys take a very short stint on the back, mushing and steering, but then North is settled warmly behind me once again.
The ride feels even faster this time, the dogs tearing through the snow with unrelenting energy. North’s arm wraps around my stomach, holding me tight to him. It’s a steadying presence that feels more reassuring than I’d like to admit.
When we finally return to the starting point, I feel a strange mix of exhilaration and exhaustion. As we help unhook the dogs and thank the guides, I realize something surprising—I enjoyed this. Not just the sledding, but the whole outing. The couples, the conversation, the shared experience.
It felt normal.
No, that’s not quite right. It felt special, but natural.
“Ready to head out?” North asks, his voice breaking through my thoughts.
I nod, falling into step beside him. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
We say our goodbyes, which consist of warm hugs and fist bumps, along with promises to do another couples outing to include Rafferty and Tempe when she comes home for a visit.
As we walk back to the truck, I glance at North out of the corner of my eye. He’s coughing again, a little harder this time, and I feel a tug of worry.
“You sure you’re not getting sick?” I ask.
“I’m fine,” he insists, but his voice is hoarse, and I don’t believe him for a second.
As we climb into the truck, I make a command decision. “Let’s swing by the grocery store.”
“What for?” he asks, starting the engine and then immediately succumbing to another coughing fit. “I thought maybe we’d go out for dinner.”
“I’m making you homemade chicken noodle soup,” I say, my expression no-nonsense and not to be trifled with.
North’s expression turns gooey soft, and it’s clear that I just hit a home run in the feels department for him. I think about making a sarcastic quip to dull the connection, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I kind of like making him happy.
CHAPTER 17
Farren
Something startles me awake and the first thing I notice is the emptiness of the bed. I blink into the darkness, confused for a second, and the bedside clock reads just a little past midnight. North’s house is unfamiliar, even though I’ve been here for a couple of days now. My hand brushes over the spot where he should be, and the sheets are cooled to the touch, suggesting he’s been gone some time.
“North?” I call softly into the quiet room.
No response.
I toss the blanket off and pad out into the hallway. We have settled into the routine of sleeping naked because we’re normally collapsing into an exhausted heap, but there was no sex last night so I’m wearing one of his T-shirts and my panties are intact.
What started out as a cough while dogsledding soon turned into so much more. North went through a period of chills, so I had him layered up in sweatpants, a long-sleeve thermal T-shirt and a sweatshirt on top of that. He had body aches and nausea and could barely keep down the soup I made for him.
He was running a slight fever when I tucked him into bed last night and I gave him Tylenol. I woke up a few times to check on him, but at some point, he must have slipped out of bed.
The soft glow of the living room light spills into the hall, and I follow it. As I turn the corner, I spot him on the couch, sprawled awkwardly with one arm draped over his forehead. His breathing is ragged, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his face.
I creep quietly to his side and kneel next to him. Up close, he looks worse—pale, damp and shivering, despite the blanket tangled around him. I put my hand lightly on his chest.
His eyelids flutter open, and he groans. “What’re you doing up?”
“What am I doing up? What are you doing out here?” I place the back of my hand on his forehead, and the heat radiating off him makes my stomach lurch. “You’re burning up.”
“I was too hot in the room,” he rasps, his voice scratchy and weak. “Didn’t wanna wake you. Or get you sick.”
“Well, now you’re out here freezing.” I pull the blanket tighter around him, but he shivers violently, curling in on himself. “North, this is bad. You’re burning up and shaking like a leaf.”
He tries to wave me off. “I’m fine. Just need to rest—”
“No, you don’t need to rest. You need to see a doctor.” I push up from the floor and retrieve the thermometer from the master bathroom where I’d left it last night.