Um...what?
She blinked. Once. Twice. Three times.
Alec’s smile faded as he crossed his arms and leaned back on the seat of his bike, apparently waiting for her to say something. Or whip out her checkbook.
Zoey’s throat grew thick. “Perhaps there’s been a misunderstanding...”
“Nope. No misunderstanding.” He shook his head. “This is your reindeer farm, is it not?”
“Well...” She glanced at Anya, who could do nothing but shrug, then back at Alec. Zoey still had no clue who he actually was, other than a purported creditor. “...yes. But I’ve only owned it for a day. Less than twenty-four hours, actually.”
She couldn’t possibly owe him a thousand dollars. For starters, she didn’t have that kind of money.
Technically, she did, she supposed. But that money was part of the down payment for the airplane she was buying in five days. The airplane that was to be the start of her new career as a professional pilot. She’d worked eight years as a barista, scrimping and saving for that down payment. It took a lot of lattes to buy a plane, even a small one.
Her plane money was off-limits. She’d already given notice at the coffee bar. Next Monday was to be her first official day as a charter pilot, and she couldn’t very well fly without an airplane.
Alec’s gaze narrowed. He was looking less and less like a superhero with each passing second. “Twenty-four hours?”
“Thereabouts.” She glanced at Anya again, eliciting a hearty nod of agreement.
“Maybe you could provide Zoey with some background information,” Anya said.
“Yes. Background information would be delightful,” Zoey muttered under her breath.
At least she’d thought it was under her breath. The storm clouds gathering in Alec’s eyes told her differently. “As I said before, my name is Alec Wynn. I work here. For you, apparently.”
So she’d inherited both a reindeer farm and a surly man on a Harley. Perfect. “How odd.”
“Odd?” He angled his head, and a lock of unruly hair fell across his forehead.
Why am I looking at his hair? Surely that violated some sort of employer/employee boundary line. But how would she know? She’d never been anyone’s boss before. “Yes. I mean, what exactly do you do for Gus? I mean, me.”
This was beyond surreal. If her nose wasn’t so cold, she’d wonder if she were dreaming.
“I care for the reindeer,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And generally keep things running around here.”
“Aurora’s a small town. I’ve never laid eyes on you before. Where have you been hiding yourself?”
“I’ve only worked here a week. I spent my first day on the job giving my employer CPR. Unsuccessfully.” Alec’s gaze dropped to his hands. He paused a beat before continuing. “And now I’ve been feeding a herd of reindeer—on my dime—while I wait around to see what’s to become of this place. So, forgive me if I haven’t had time to make the social rounds.”
Oh.
Oh...
So Alec had been the one to find Gus. This was new information. And it softened Zoey toward him a bit, even though she still thought him awfully demanding. And difficult. Couldn’t he have mentioned this right off the bat? “I’m sorry.”
He looked back up. Some of the tension had left his eyes, leaving a hint of pain in its place. “I’m sorry, too. For your loss. Are you his daughter?”
“Oh, no. I’m not family. Gus was my flight instructor.” She swallowed. “And my friend.”
His brow furrowed. “I see.” Clearly, he didn’t.
Which was fine. Zoey didn’t really understand it herself.
“So, this thousand dollars,” Anya said, directing them back to the matter at hand. “Is it your salary?”
Surely not. A thousand dollars a week? To feed a couple of reindeer? Although performing CPR was probably above and beyond the call of duty.
“No. Gus paid me a month up front because I moved here from Washington to take the job.”
For the first time, Zoey noticed the Washington State license plate on the motorcycle. She wondered if he’d actually ridden the thing all the way up through snow-covered Canada. It didn’t seem feasible.
Alec continued. “I’m out a fair bit now for reindeer food, hay and other incidentals. I can provide receipts.”
A fair bit. Lord, please don’t let it be even more than a thousand dollars. “How much do they eat? A thousand dollars is a lot of money.”
He shrugged. “You’ve got a lot of reindeer.”
Zoey grew very still. The snowflakes swirling around them seemed to move in slow motion. “I do?”
At long last, Alec Wynn smiled—a slight lift of one corner of his lips. It was the subtlest of gestures, but just lethal enough to uncurl a ribbon of dread in Zoey’s belly. “Yes, ma’am. You certainly do.”
* * *
Alec watched the color drain from Zoey’s face. The pink in her wind-kissed complexion faded right before his eyes.
“How many, exactly?” she asked.
There was really no way to sugarcoat it. And anyway, Alec believed in telling things like they were. “Thirty.”
“Thirty?” she echoed. She exchanged a glance with her friend—Anya, if Alec remembered correctly—who’d been watching their exchange with what appeared to be keen interest. “Thirty!”
“Give or take,” he added.
Zoey’s gaze narrowed. She had lovely eyes. If Alec had been the romantic sort—and he most definitely was not—they probably would have reminded him of the moss-covered Sitka spruce trees that shaded the Olympic Forest back in Washington. “You mean, you don’t know?”
“Of course I know.” He lifted an irritated brow. “It’s thirty. Usually. Palmer, one of the boys, keeps escaping. When he decides to grace us with his presence, it’s thirty-one.”
Anya snickered, failing in her obvious attempt not to laugh. “Zoey, you’ve inherited a rogue reindeer.”
Zoey’s mouth fell open. “This really isn’t funny. What am I supposed to do with thirty-sometimes-thirty-one reindeer?”
Alec felt as if he should comfort her or something, which was ludicrous. What was he supposed to say? Sorry about your charmed life, sweetheart.
She looked as though she might faint dead away. He really hoped she didn’t. His last attempts to revive someone hadn’t worked out so well. Then again, that shouldn’t have come as a shock. Sometimes it seemed as if everything he touched turned to ruin. Why should Alaska be any different?
All he’d wanted was a fresh start. He’d been looking for a new beginning all his life. Was that really too much to ask?
Apparently so.
He’d driven his bike more than two thousand miles in four days to get here, only to find himself holding the lifeless body of Gus Henderson within a day of his arrival.
He balled his hands into fists and pounded them against his thighs in an effort to shake off the memory. As bad as things in his life had been—and they’d been plenty bad—he’d never held a dying man in his arms before. It wasn’t an event he cared to repeat. Ever.
“Zoey, take a deep breath. Everything is going to be fine.” Anya wrapped an arm around