“One way or another, she will be staying with our new extended family.”
“Appears so. You’re good with her.”
Glenna smiled as she moved closer to look at Fleur. “I love children. I’ve always wanted to be a mother.”
“You can still be a mother, no matter the outcome of the DNA test.”
There he went. Pushing that offer at her again. The one she had no idea what to do with. “I realize that, but I don’t want to discuss it. Thank you for caring.”
He touched her face. This time, she lingered, staring into those eyes. Lifting her head, she closed her own, and her lips found his…
Instantly, she was entranced by the warmth of his tongue, a brilliant contrast to the cold of the air. His hands found her hair, pulling her closer, becoming more urgent…
The world tilted. Literally.
Kota pounced on them, flattening Glenna to the ground. As she stood, dusting off her jacket, she couldn’t help but think how the pup had saved her from herself.
CHAPTER NINE
Losing himself in memories of past winter meals at the cabin, Broderick flipped open the lid of the slow cooker. He checked the status of his family’s recipe for caribou stew. A roll of steam billowed out with the scent of thyme. He waved some of the fog toward his face, breathing in the smell of the hearty meal promising a flavor he found only in Alaska. Comfort food, really.
His personal favorite, and he looked forward to sharing it with Glenna after she finished putting the baby to bed. At the moment, she was oblivious to his nostalgia, sitting on a quilt on the living room floor with Fleur and some activity toy.
His parents would sleep in the master bedroom. The girls slept in the small spare room—a room Fleur would use now—and the boys would sprawl out in the loft. Family time was full of snowmobiling, fishing and hikes, until they came back to the cabin exhausted and famished, leaving a trail of soggy snowsuits, caps, gloves and boots behind them.
This recipe came down from his grandmother. Every time he made the stew, he envisioned his grandma and mother dicing the tomatoes and onions. They didn’t need to measure the broth and spices. Everything was done by eye, and even when his family had become richer than Midas, with a crew to help in the home, his grandmother had insisted the recipe wasn’t falling into any stranger’s hands. And that even if a staff chef attempted to recreate the recipe, no one could cook the stew as well as she could. Broderick agreed.
The caribou stew recipe was a part of their family DNA.
Taking a wooden spoon off the ceramic spoon rest, he stirred the chunky soup, which had been simmering all afternoon, checking the color and consistency. He felt as if someone was staring at him and looked up to find Kota sitting pretty. Those icy blue eyes left no mistake. The puppy was working his charm for a treat.
“Kota, buddy, I’m not sure I’m supposed to feed you table scraps,” Broderick said. “Glenna would probably kick my butt.”
“Yes,” she called out, “I will kick your butt if you mess with my pup’s good manner.”
The pup tilted his head and let out a whimper.
“Yeah, yeah, puppy,” Broderick continued, half amused at her speedy response. “I know it’s not fair. But I’ll tell you what. I do have a soup bone tucked away in the fridge and if your mama says it’s okay, you can have that all to yourself. Right, Glenna?” “After I check to make sure the bone won’t splinter or make him sick,” she called back, tapping a jingling toy, enticing Fleur to reach for it.
Kota kept waiting expectantly, making Broderick feel like the meanest human alive. He checked that Glenna wasn’t looking, and then pulled out a chunk of cooked meat and rinsed it.
Kneeling, he whispered to the puppy, “Our secret. You can have it if you work for it, okay? Your mama says the key to a balanced, well-trained dog is the motto ‘Nothing in Life Is Free.’ So here’s the deal. You do one of your tricks and I’ll give you this piece of meat. Fair enough? Now shake, Kota, shake,” he commanded.
Kota lifted his paw on cue and Broderick felt as if he’d clinched a million-dollar deal. He shook the paw, then passed the nibblet to the dog on an open palm. The puppy took the treat with a gentle lick.
“Good boy, Kota.” Broderick gave the husky a scratch behind the ears before standing, washing his hands and returning to his meal prep.
He scooped up a taste, assessing the balance of game and spices to make sure none overpowered the other. His taste buds all but moaned in pleasure. Sure, it could use a little tweaking, but the stew was almost perfect. Almost. He looked forward to sharing the meal with Glenna tonight as he stepped up his plans to persuade her they could be good together—