He smiled, setting off a fluttering sensation in Laurel's stomach. She'd decided to tell him how she felt, but now after what had happened with Robert, she wasn't sure. Life was complicated. And what if he doesn't feel the same as I do? she wondered.
The gun fired, and the two sleds took off, tearing through town, the other team in the lead. Their dog was big and pulled hard. King couldn't abide anyone being ahead of him, so he strained to catch them. Alex yelled commands, but the dog needed little coaxing. He closed the gap.
They rounded the thicket. While the sled was still moving, Luke jumped off and ran behind Alex, grabbing hold of the handles and the lead. Alex stepped off and ran alongside while Luke took control, then he jumped onto the sled and settled into the fur cushioning. The exchange took only seconds and was a maneuver they'd practiced many times. Soon they were on their way back toward town. The other team had an easy transition as well, and both teams were running side-by-side.
King snarled and snapped at his rival. The dog retaliated by sinking his teeth into the thick fur around King's neck. For a moment it looked like a dogfight would end the race. “Mush, King!” Luke yelled. Reminded of his task, the dog lunged forward and pulled ahead, gradually opening the distance between the sleds. Alex and Luke flew across the finish line first.
Cheers from onlookers erupted. The Haspers and Alex's family ran to congratulate their sons. Jean gave Luke a big hug while Will pounded him on the back. “Good job, son.”
“It's a great sled,” Luke said, wearing a broad smile.
“I knew you could do it.” Adam hugged Luke hard, lifting him off the ground. “I knew it, and that's what I'm going to write. I think the Chicago readers will get a kick out of this. I got some good pictures too.”
Laurel had never seen Adam so animated. It was as if he'd actually run the race himself.
“Maybe I'll do this one day. What do you think?” he asked.
“You'd have to stick around,” Will said with a knowing smile.
Adam didn't answer, but his expression darkened, and he turned quiet.
Laurel waited, longing for Adam to say he would stay.
“I better get,” he said and walked up the street, clearly wrestling with something and wanting to be alone.
Laurel hesitated. She needed to know what was going through his mind, and she needed to tell him how she felt. With a quick glance at Robert, she ran after Adam. “Wait,” she called.
Adam stopped and watched her, his expression a mix of confusion and sadness. He caught Laurel's arm, clasped her gloved hand in his, and continued walking. “Where do you want to go?”
Laurel looked back. Robert stared at them, unable to conceal his hurt and anger. Laurel yanked her hand out of Adam's. “Anywhere's fine with me,” she said. “It's awfully cold.”
“They're building a bonfire. We could warm up there.”
“No. Too many people. I want to talk to you about something.” Laurel tried to think of a place. “There's a barn just at the edge of town. It's filled with hay. We could bury ourselves in it to stay warm.” She glanced at his leg. “But what about your injury?”
“I'll be fine. Lead the way.”
Laurel walked and Adam limped toward the barn. She didn't know what she was going to say. She'd never felt about anyone the way she did Adam. What if he thought she was silly?
The next thing she knew they stood in front of the barn. Adam opened one side of its double doors. “After you,” he said gallantly.
Laurel stepped inside. It was dark and musty, smelling of hay. “It's not much warmer in here.”
“That's all right,” Adam said, catching Laurel in his arms. “We can make our own heat.” He looked down at her, his passion obvious.
Laurel caught the mild scent of spicy aftershave. A mixture of alarm and desire coursed through her. What had she gotten herself into? “I … I …”
Adam quieted her protest with his lips. He pulled her close. His kiss was tender, not at all frightening. He smiled, planting a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I've been dreaming about doing that for months.”
“You have?”
“Uh-huh,” he said, his voice husky. He kissed her again, only this time with more urgency.
Her arms circling Adam's neck, Laurel answered his kiss.
He gently pressed his lips against her neck, then held her tightly. Pressing his cheek against her hair, he said, “I hate to go. I don't want to leave you.”
“I don't want you to.” Laurel stepped back. “Adam, when you and Luke were lost, I told myself I'd tell you how I feel about you if I had the chance.” Her hands rested against his chest; she glanced at them, then back at his penetrating blue eyes. “Adam, I love you. I didn't want to, but I do.”
Adam's eyes widened slightly, then a crooked smile touched his lips. “I love you.” He kissed her again. “I've never loved anyone in my life. Not really, not before you.” He kissed her, first on the mouth, then her forehead, eyelids, and neck.
Laurel's emotions surged. She felt herself falling into a dizzying spiral. She opened her eyes and pushed away. “I … I've never been kissed like this.”
“I'm sorry. I … I wasn't thinking. I got carried away.”
“No, it's not that … It's just …” How could she explain her own passion? It was too embarrassing. “I just don't think we should. That's all.” She walked to a pile of hay and sat down.
Keeping his injured leg straight, Adam sat beside Laurel, and took her hand. He kissed it, then pressed it against his cheek. “I've never felt like this. I do love you.” He searched Laurel's face. “I love your family too. I've never had a family before. It feels good.”
Afraid to ask, but knowing she must, Laurel gathered her courage. “Adam, please stay here with us.”
Adam didn't answer.
“Can you stay in the valley?” she pressed. “Even Daddy thinks you belong here.”
Anguish touched his face. He stood, walked to a window, and stared out. “I wish I could.” He didn't say anything for a long moment. “I can't. I have my work. It's what I've always wanted. I have to leave.” He turned and looked at her. “How can I give it up? I'm nothing without it.”
“You're not nothing, Adam. You could never be nothing. The work you do isn't who you are. You could write here in Palmer. We need a newspaper.”
