Page 9 of Dr. Alaska
Then, she smashed his budding fantasy of a commanding kiss by doing a silly arm noodle move combined with the floss dance, finished off with a jazz-hands flourish that turned into two thumbs pointed at her chest. “Ta-da. Helpful medical professional, right here. Better?”
Tuli barked a laugh, and Mav whipped his head around. His so-called friend clamped his mouth shut as he studied the spotless countertop he now carefully wiped. Knowing Tuli, he’d be posting about this encounter online before Mav left the store.
Fine. Mav had made assumptions out in the field, stereotyped, and then pulled rank. All true. But hewasthe Yukon Valley EMS director. That and a dollar would get him a one-dollar cup of coffee. He rubbed his chin.
Time to own up to being human. “Listen, you and I got off on the wrong foot. And the other foot I shoved right into my mouth. Dr. Tipton, I apologize.” Eating crow wasnotthe activity he wanted to do in front of Tuli.
After a full ten seconds that felt like hours, her shoulders rose and fell, making the puffy coatshushin the now-silent deli area. “Okay.”
He extended a hand, and she met it with her own icy one. He tamped down a strange need to tug her to him and wrap his arms around her, the second time he’d felt that way today. That sort of move would be about as smart as hugging a grumpy wolverine. He imagined snarls as sharp teeth sank into him. “Good.”
“On account of us working together”—she gave a delicate snort—“you should call me Lee.” She sighed and gently slid her hand out of his. “So, gloves?”
“Sure. We’ll head over to outdoor gear.” He took two steps then stopped as Tuli cleared his throat. “Have a good one, man.” Knowing his friend, he’d feast on his retellings of Mav and Lee’s encounter for weeks.
“Nice to meet you.” Lee waggled her fingers.
Tuli waved back, somehow managing to flex his muscled arms. “Welcome to Yukon Valley,Doctor.”
Mav shook his head as he led her past produce, cleaning products, ice fishing equipment, and hunting supplies until they reached two small racks of coats and snow pants. On the nearby wall was a display of gloves and mittens.
“Oh, Thinsulate,” she said. “That’s good, right? My old gloves were this brand.”
“It’ll work great if the temperature never drops below freezing.” He tilted his head as he tried again to place her accent. It wasn’t Cajun. “No gloves.”
“Really?”
“Unless you need dexterity in the outdoors, it’s warmer to go with mittens. How about these Gore-Tex forty-below mittens, paired with glove liners. Or beaver fur mittens have amazing insulative properties.”
Her brows drew together as she turned the price tag over. “Maybe not the beaver ones.”
“Are you into animal rights?” Another snap judgment. Man, he needed to slow down the pipeline of thoughts-to-mouth.
“No. I mean, yes. Look, I don’t love the idea of killing animals for sport, but for food and materials to survive? I understand the circle of life. But the fur-lined cost a lot.” She chewed her lower lip. “The Gore-Tex and glove liners are also expensive.” Glancing up at him, she shrugged. “Student loans.” Her wry smile rocked him back on his heels. “Do I need both types of hand coverings?” she asked.
“If you don’t want frostbite after ten minutes when the windchill is below zero, then yes. Get the liner and the impermeable outer mitten.” He held up the liner, and she tried it on. Perfect fit. She stood close enough that he caught a whiff of her floral scent. No. Not exactly. He inhaled again. Floral hint mixed with berries. Tart and sweet. Seemed fitting.
She put the items in her cart. “I don’t plan on a lot of outdoor activities.”
“Not staying long enough to take in the local culture? Snow sports? Mushing?”
“Wouldn’t know where to start. Figured I’d begin with not freezing to death on the daily commute and take baby steps from there.” Her quick grin caught him by surprise once again.
Recovering, he blurted, “Garage or block warmer?”
She peered at him and blinked. “Do what to the who now?” Her Southern accent flowed over him.
Unable to resist connecting with her, he rested his hand on her elbow for a split second. “Where did the hospital put you up?”
“Seems forward of you to ask.”
“It’s one of two rentals. The entire hospital staff, the town, and the surrounding villages all know where they are. It’s not a secret.” He ground his molars and extended his hands, palms up. “Reason I’m asking is that I want to get a sense of how much gear you need.”
“Oh, okay. Sorry for getting defensive.” Another flash of pain came and went, marring her attractive features.
He wanted to explore the story behind that expression.
She sighed. “I’m staying at the place on Second Avenue. No garage.”
