Reaching For Normal Page 6

  The man sensed every time her weakness showed.

  Holding in a grimace, Myla placed her mitted hands on his shoulders and swung her leg over the seat. Her attempt at a graceful descent ended up more like a plop.

  The snowmachine’s bench seat sloped toward the front. Myla placed her feet on the running boards and moved back from Sawyer but as soon as she released the pressure, her slippery winter pants caused her to slide into him again. With her thighs cradling his butt and her front squashed to his back.

  Heat flared everywhere so she shoved away but slid forward again. There was nothing to help her keep in place. Gravity was forcing her into close contact with a man who clearly wanted that contact as much as he wanted the bubonic plague.

  His voice was laden with amusement when he spoke. “There aren’t any handles. You’re going to have to hang onto me if you don’t want to fall off at the first bump. Or you can cancel the lesson if you prefer.”

  Fat chance. Myla steeled herself for the zip, let herself slide into him, and used her mitts to grab the sides of his jacket.

  Sawyer fired up the engine and the rumble rattled through her, firing up her own engines. So silly but the man was making her crazy.

  The sled jumped forward and the jolt threw Myla off balance and backward. Her grip on Sawyer’s jacket tightened and she managed to hang on. His laughter might not have been out loud but she felt it.

  As they moved farther from the shed, the snowmachine eased up banks, zoomed down the other side, zipped around corners. Unable to sit securely only holding the sides of his jacket, Myla slipped her arms around Sawyer’s torso.

  He didn’t react at all to the heat that instantly warmed her from the inside out. It seemed impossible he couldn’t feel the sparks every time they touched. Maybe he’d learned to control his reactions. Something she’d love to learn even more than skiing.

  In only a few minutes, the snowmachine broke through the trees and sped onto the lake. The shoreline was bumpy and the machine reacted a little like a bronco. Wild and free.

  Exhilarating.

  When they cleared the bumps, Sawyer kicked up the gas and they flew. No other word for it. The wind whipped its icy breath over and around her but it couldn’t diminish the pleasure. The speed and freedom trumped everything.

  Unable to contain it, Myla let out a whoop. She wanted to stand up and hold out her arms like she stood on the bow of the Titanic. There were no walls between her and the wind and she’d never felt anything like it.

  Sawyer took them through twists and turns. When he spun in a circle, Myla let out a screech like a demented parrot and couldn’t have cared less. The exhilaration was too much to contain so she didn’t try.

  All too soon, they arrived at the far shore and Sawyer dropped the speed to maneuver up the bank and beneath the trees. They meandered through the bush until he pulled into a clearing. Benches sat along one side and two signposts pointed the way to the trails. 2k and 5k.

  “Do you need helping getting off the sled?”

  Sawyer’s gruff voice had Myla jerking her hands off of him and scooting backward. How long had she been sitting there checking out the scenery and clutching him?

  Myla pushed on the bench seat in front of her but wasn’t able to stand. Her knee was stiff from the ride and the low seat made it awkward. She tried one hand behind her and one in front but that didn’t work either.

  “Put your hands on my shoulders, lean forward, and push up. That should work.”

  Of course, he knew what her problem was without even turning around. Unable to figure out another way, Myla leaned forward and used his shoulders for leverage. At least she managed to get off on the first try.

  When she was standing, Sawyer swung off the machine as easily as he breathed. Sudden tears stung at her eyes and she closed them and swallowed hard. She was not crying over something as silly as getting off a snowmachine or the discrepancy between their abilities. She’d stopped crying decades ago and saw no reason to start again.

  Once she’d gotten her emotions under control, she tugged off the helmet and turned to find Sawyer had laid out the skis and poles by one of the benches. She put the helmet in the trailer and followed him.

  He didn’t make a single reference to her weakness as he waxed the skis and explained the equipment. His steady, unemotional monologue helped her settle and gain her focus. She’d need to remember this for her article.

  In the distance, frenzied barking approached and she smiled. Loco and Gunner weren’t planning on missing any of the fun. They deserved their own article. She didn’t know if it was possible for them to follow a snowmachine trail or a scent that far. Maybe they knew the area because they’d been there with Sawyer before.

  She wanted to pull out her phone to record her thoughts and questions but she didn’t dare. Sawyer wasn’t happy as it was, so she’d simply do her best to remember.

  “Sit.”

  Myla sat on the bench before she realized that not only was Sawyer talking to the dogs who’d joined them but that she was a total idiot. His smirk had her flushing but he didn’t say a word.

  Sawyer put the cross-country skis in front of her, then pulled out the ski shoes. He pointed at the small protrusion on the toes of the shoe. “This part here, clips onto the ski. Your toes stay attached but your heel is free.” He kept talking but she couldn’t hear his words. Not through the panic.

  He would see her foot. Her left foot had never grown at the same speed and had ended up several sizes smaller than her right. She’d had a support created so she could buy shoes that were the same size but the support was clunky and obvious. Apparently, it was time to stop wishing for normal.

  Myla momentarily considered giving up and asking for a snowmachine lesson instead but she changed her mind. It didn’t matter if Sawyer saw her foot support. He already realized her leg was messed up so it wouldn’t be a big deal.

  Except to her. She never let anyone see the support.

  Shaking her head at herself, Myla eased her foot out of her boot keeping the support strapped in place as she grabbed the ski shoe from Sawyer. He didn’t let go.

  Instead, he used his other hand to lift her foot and check out the support from every angle. His face didn’t change, didn’t register shock or disgust. If he learned that skill in the military, she should have enlisted.

  Sawyer nodded a few times as he studied the support. “Would it be easier to go without this and get a smaller shoe. That’s easy to do.” His voice showed interest and nothing more.

  “No. I’m used to this.”

  “Okay.” He slipped the shoe onto her foot and tied it up. “We’ll start on the skis without poles. It always seems counterintuitive to beginners but it’s the best way to get the hang of balancing. It’s a far different motion from snowshoeing.”

  And that appeared to be all he was going to say about her foot.

  Okay then.

  Sawyer aligned her feet with the skis and showed her how to attach them to the shoes. When she’d slipped them on and off a few times, he had her run them back and forth along the ground. Once she pushed off the bench he held her hands while she shuffled the skis again. Not bad.

  Sawyer tugged her away from the bench and had her work her way around the clearing. Once she learned not to fall on her butt any more than necessary, he handed her the poles. “Good job. Are you up to trying a trail?”

  At her nod, Sawyer put on his own skis. The dogs popped up from where they’d been napping. After stretching, both dogs trotted to the head of the 5k trail.

  “I thought we’d try the other trail.”

  The 2k one. He didn’t think she was strong enough because of her foot. Or because she hadn’t proved herself as strong. “The dogs want to go this way.”

  He shrugged. “It’s your first time. The shorter trail would be the better choice.”

  “Is there any reason we shouldn’t take the 5k trail?”

  Sawyer bent to pick up his poles. “You mean a reason you�
�ll actually listen to? Probably not.”

  SAWYER shared a look with Gunner as Loco and Myla headed down the trail. More pride than sense. More guts, too.

  She was probably still sore from the two snowshoeing lessons, yet here she was trying out the 5k. Mostly because she wanted to prove to him she wasn’t a wimp.

  He didn’t doubt that for a second.

  The contraption she wore over her foot was a fancy piece of engineering. Some kind of padding held together with Velcro. Her left foot appeared significantly smaller than her right one. Not obviously deformed, just smaller. Either it didn’t grow normally or she’d been in some kind of accident.

  In his years with the teams, he’d seen a lot of injuries, including amputations, injuries from gunshots, explosions, disease. The human body could survive amazing amounts of stress if the heart was willing.

  He knew dozens of people who’d not only survived horrific injuries but who thrived after adjusting to their new realities. They were the strongest people he knew.

  Myla hadn’t been in the military—everything about her proved that—but she’d suffered some serious damage. He knew physical trauma rarely came without mental issues tagging along for the ride.

  He’d had his own share of injuries over the years but nothing serious. The shit rolling around in his head was for a whole other reason. Made him wonder about Myla’s past. Tough. Independent. Snarky. Friendly but didn’t let anyone in close.

  He respected the hell out of that even as he acknowledged a part of him wanted to bust through that shell and find out what had hurt her. He squashed that part down to nothing. The woman was in town to have some winter fun. She wasn’t looking for a hookup.

  Correction. He didn’t have a clue what she wanted or didn’t want but he wasn’t looking for a hookup. Not with her. With every emotion showing vividly on her face, she didn’t seem the type of woman to do casual. More likely to want picket fences and minivans. Both in neon colors.

  They were nearing the first slope of the trail and Myla’s gait had smoothed out. Not bad for a beginner. She obviously had lots of experience with different sports and activities. Nothing much fazed her.

  Something in the trees caught Gunner’s attention and he gave a quick bark and rushed left. Loco bounced in place three or four times then bolted after his buddy, barking his fool head off.

  At the suddenness of their moves, Myla jerked and stumbled. She waved her arms in wild circles and shuffled her feet but it was a losing battle. Snow flew up as she landed on her side, one pole and two skis up in the air.

  It took about five strides to reach her. Covered in snow. Air puffing visibly as she sucked in breaths. Eyes dancing with laughter as she waved off his assistance. “Well, that was graceful. How do I get up without pulling a Bambi?”

  The deep snow made it more difficult than in the clearing but he talked her through the process and in less than a minute, she’d regained her feet.

  “Should we be worried that the dogs ran away?”

  “They didn’t run away. They’re chasing something. Big difference.”

  Her eyes widened and she turned to the trees. “What are they chasing? I didn’t see anything.”

  Nerves laced her voice and he kept his voice serious. “Don’t know. Could be anything. Fox. Rabbit. Moose. Wolf.” Her gasp had him smiling. City girl.

  “Are they going to be safe? Should we go after them?”

  Well, hell, she was worried about his dogs. “They’re fine. Nothing better than chasing a rabbit in the snow.”

  She snorted out a laugh. “Nothing better? Really? Poor dogs.”

  Without looking at him, Myla turned her attention to getting her skis back in the tracks of the groomed trail. He watched her slip into the skate skiing style he’d shown her. In less than a dozen strides she was moving fluidly. The motion appeared to take some of the up and down pressure off her foot. This would be a sport where her leg wouldn’t be too much of a hindrance.

  Not that she would be sticking around to practice.

  They traveled in silence for a while, with nothing but the cold air slapping at their faces and the swish of their clothing to keep them company. Despite the wind chill, Sawyer had worked up a sweat and he loosened the zipper on his jacket as they moved.

  City Girl hadn’t complained about the cold but she was wrapped up like she was living in a meat freezer. The temps hadn’t even dropped much below twenty.

  But, she wasn’t running away.

  Not yet.

  Ahead of him, Myla broke through the trees and stopped pushing. She slid to a halt and bent over at the waist to lean on her poles and gulp in a few deep breaths. Sawyer pulled up beside her.

  Stretched out in front of them was a series of hills and valleys. Pines and spruce littered the landscape in pockets interspersed with the barren deciduous varieties. Snow covered it all. The trails he groomed were the only marks in the snow. Not even any animal tracks.

  “If I’d realized how pretty winter was going to be, I might have tried it years ago.” Her graze tracked the mountains. “I can see why you love it.”

  “I never said that.”

  She laughed and pulled off her mitts, then unzipped her pocket to slide out a camera. While she busied herself taking pictures of the scenery, Sawyer pulled out a water bottle and sipped.

  Myla’s soft curse had him whirling around to check their surroundings but he sensed nothing unusual. When he turned to her, she was biting her lip and gripping her camera with white knuckles.

  “I think you need to see this.” She handed him the camera, her eyes full of tears.

  He grabbed the camera but searched the area instead of checking it out.

  “I took some close-ups. It’s over there.”

  He couldn’t see anything with his eyes, so he flipped through her photos. Shit. The last photos were fuzzy because she’d zoomed in but he could tell what upset her.

  He whipped up the camera and searched the area. Myla tugged his arm until he was pointed in the right direction.

  Sawyer’s stomach tightened and he dropped into SEAL mode. Body primed and ready. Senses at full. Thoughts under control.

  Someone was killing his wolves.

  #aloneagain

  Myla watched Sawyer shut down even as she felt the fury pulsating off of him in waves. His eyes lost all emotion as his jaw tightened into granite. Muscles tensed, ready to spring into action.

  Scary.

  Impressive.

  Myla gave herself a mental slap even though she knew it was a reflex action to focus on something other than the sight she’d seen.

  That poor animal.

  Slow breaths in through her mouth helped her keep the bile down. It had taken her a few seconds to make sense of what she’d seen but it looked like someone had hacked up a wolf and then strung it up between some trees.

  There was no sane reason for a person to do that. Who could do that to a living creature?

  “Takes a bastard of epic proportions, that’s for sure.” Sawyer’s words made her realize she’d spoken aloud. “Definitely not a hunter.”

  “How do you know that? Hunters kill.”

  Eyes hard, he shook his head. “Not like this.” His attention turned to her. “Deep breaths, Myla. Slow.”

  Closing her eyes should have helped but the sight had been burned into her brain.

  “Here. Drink. Don’t hold your breath.”

  Right. Breathe. Good idea.

  Was the killer watching them now? He could be behind any of the millions of trees surrounding them. The beauty and solitude she’d been enjoying only minutes before now seemed treacherous. They were so alone. “We have to call the police.”

  Despite the grimness of his face, his lips quirked. “City girl.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah, I’ll talk to Dave once we’re in cell phone range. Rangers, too.” His voice was impenetrable like he’d been turned to stone with anger.

  Sawyer handed back her camera and slung his
pack on. “I need to get some equipment before I come back. You ready to move? It’s faster to go forward than back.”

  Myla nodded and he pointed to the descent in front of them. “Stay low, keep your knees flexed and lean into the curves.” He hesitated, then added. “If you’d rather walk, do it sideways. Step by step like I showed you back at the staging area.”

  Walking would take time. Too much time. With a psycho out in the bush with them. Giving him time to kill another animal.

  Or a person.

  Myla pushed the skis to the sides in what he called the skate style. When she approached the edge of the slope, Sawyer called out instructions from behind. She managed to focus on his words and relax into the skis, only wobbling a little.

  Air whooshed by her. It was technically warmer than it had been when they’d left but the sight of the wolf had chilled her from the inside and the frigid wind had her shaking.

  As her speed picked up, so did her sense of flying. And freedom. Under other circumstances, she’d have laughed out loud at the joy the experience brought, even as it chilled her face and brought tears to her eyes.

  Her momentum carried her through the flat spot at the bottom of the slope and Sawyer called out to her again, telling her to keep her feet moving so she didn’t come to a complete stop.

  When the terrain leveled out, they skied quietly for a few minutes before he spoke again. “The dogs are coming. Don’t let them throw you off your stride. Keep it strong and easy. You’re doing great.”

  Pride swelled at his words. She was doing great, despite her leg and what they’d seen.

  Barks echoed through the forest and, it wasn’t long before Loco crossed in front of her and then circled her before he responded to Sawyer’s whistle and stayed out of her path. Gunner ran along beside her, smiling his encouragement.

  She hadn’t realized 5k would be so long. Her leg was feeling the strain and her knee ached but she didn’t want to slow down and keep Sawyer from contacting the authorities.

  Eventually, the trees thinned and Sawyer moved up to ski alongside her. “Almost there. Another few minutes.”