Running Wild (Wild 3)

“As if I had any other choice. The dog weighs more than she does.” He studies the can in his grip with intense interest.

“Something tells me you would have done it no matter what.”

To that, he says nothing, taking another sip.

“And in brackets, ‘P.S. Why can’t all park rangers look like him?’”

He groans, but the little smile says he’s not bothered.

“‘If I weren’t so distraught, I would’ve gotten his number. Maybe I still can.’ Man, this girl has guts.” Something sharp pricks at my chest at the idea of another female chasing after Tyler … and of one catching him. It’s bound to happen, eventually. “She is pretty,” I tease.

“I’m old enough to be her father,” he mutters through a sip.

“Well, yeah, but then she could call you da—”

“No.”

I chuckle.

“I haven’t been interested in girls her age since I was sixteen.”

“Sixteen?”

He grins slyly. “I’ve always liked older women. More experienced.”

“Especially in parking lots?”

Tyler, mid sip, chokes on his beer.

My cheeks heat. I don’t know what compelled me to say that just now. Perhaps it’s the fact that we both seem to be dancing around that night as if it didn’t happen. “Make sure you let Rachel down gently.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose as if in pain, and I laugh. It feels so good to sit out here with someone and laugh. I’m often alone on my porch. “You know this is going to be on the local news, especially when they make the connection.” I click on the comments. “Oh look, someone already has. ‘Is this the same Tyler Brady who won the Iditarod?’”

Tyler groans again.

“You’re gonna have to do interviews—”

“I’m not doing any interviews—”

“Pose for pictures …” I hand his phone back to him, earning myself another finger stroke that skitters all the way to my spine.

He watches me swallow a sip of my Coke. “Anyway, it looks like you don’t have to worry about being paid.”

“Yeah, not going to lie. That is a relief.” I have to pay Cory for seven hours of tonight’s overtime. I can skip paying myself, and I don’t mind, if I’m spending my time sitting out here with Tyler. “How did you end up as a park ranger, anyway?”

“I’ve always been heading toward this. I spent years volunteering in the parks, and I knew how competitive it would be to get hired on, so I decided to go to college for a criminal justice degree. From there, I worked with Montana Highway Patrol for a few years, gaining experience, before getting hired on with the state parks.”

“And then you went to Finland?”

“Then I met Mila. She was in Montana for a month in the summer, visiting her father.” He smiles to himself. “She assumed it was just going to be a vacation fling, but I convinced her to give me a chance to prove it could work. We did the long-distance thing for about four months, and it was hard. I asked her to marry me. She said no at first, because she wouldn’t leave her dogs. So I left everything in Montana and moved to her.”

It feels awkward, hearing him talk about falling in love with her. But the conversation is important.

It’s like going through your medical history with a new doctor before they take you on. Uncomfortable, but essential to share vital details that might make a big difference in the future. In this case, it helps me understand the kind of man Tyler is, what he’s willing to give up for the right woman.

Everything.

“Their family business was too important for her to leave, and I was willing to do anything to be with her.” He toys with the tab on his can. “That’s the thing with me—when I’m in, I’m all in. It was tough, though. Most people there speak English, but I didn’t speak the language, so getting hired in my field wasn’t going to be easy. I started taking language lessons while helping out on the farm. That’s what they call their kennel. That, or a homestead. It’s nothing like this. It’s a whole tourist attraction, with guided sled tours and snowshoeing, snowmobiling. I learned about mushing and fell in love with it. Ended up becoming a guide, taking people and dogs out for hours, sometimes days, all over the Arctic Circle. It’s a pretty wild life.”

He pauses. “After Mila passed, I stayed to help Tero and Anja. The dogs had been training hard with Mila for years, and Tero wanted to race them in the Finnmarksløpet in her honor but didn’t think he had it in him. I needed something to keep me going. So, I decided I would do it. He helped get me to the start line.” He pulls the metal tab off his can. “Mila got me to the finish.”

“And your talent and commitment to these dogs got you there first.”