It was early March, and the Iditarod was coming through town.

To Elizabeth, it meant the best weekend in tips she’d ever had bartending. The Sled Dog Brewing Company had set up a big heated tent in City Park, where customers could drink an Anna’s Amber or a Balto’s Lager as the sled-dog teams pulled into the checkpoint on Main Street. Both award-winning craft beers had been named after famous sled dogs, and Elizabeth served up draft after draft to townsfolk and tourists. Mushers got their first beer on the house.

To Jack, the Iditarod meant a weekend outdoors, as both the ladder and engine companies from Station One were staged with their fire trucks just off Main Street. It was mostly a public relations effort for the city, with the firefighters greeting people, answering questions, and handing out plastic fire helmets to little kids. But they were also on call for any emergencies that arose with the crowds. Thankfully, the weather was decent, with temperatures hitting thirty during the day and not falling below zero at night. The skies were mostly cloudy with a few snow flurries here and there, but nothing that caused problems.

Jack had been uneasy about being at the center of such a large event. There were many people he hadn’t seen since his father had gone before the city council and made his mea culpa concerning the theft of the money from the evidence room. Clyde Harrison had written a salacious column about the beating Bruce had taken “from an unknown and fully justified assailant” and had kept up a running stream of gossip about the comings and goings of the Barneses and the Armstrongs in the weeks since. The latest read:

It’s no coincidence that of the few houses listed for sale this week, one is owned by the Armstrong family and the other by disgraced former police chief Bruce Barnes. Per a city council resolution, before the end of the year Barnes must cough up at least half of the $500,000 he stole from the city’s civil asset forfeiture fund—a crime that until recently was widely believed to have been committed by Nate Armstrong—with the remaining money to be reimbursed over a five-year period.

Realtor Misty Rhodes, who is the listing agent for both properties, will be holding an open house at the Armstrong house this Saturday and at the Barnes house this Sunday. Fresh-baked cookies will be served at both.

A little bird told this reporter that Nate Armstrong is settled in Anchorage with his son, Emmett, and has already found work. This same bird revealed that Bruce Barnes is at present making the long drive to Florida to be near his grandchildren, with a stopover in Idaho to see his daughter, Maggie, who recently moved there from Golden Falls.

Despite the conflict between the elder Armstrong and the elder Barnes, there’s no concern about this turning into a generational feud on the level of the Hatfields and McCoys—not when fire captain Jack Barnes and bartender/nursing student Elizabeth Armstrong celebrated Valentine’s Day with a couples massage at the Dragonfly Spa.

As much as Jack wished Clyde would ignore the entire Armstrong-Barnes saga, he appreciated that the columns were as good-natured as could be. The little bird Clyde referred to was, in fact, Elizabeth, who’d figured that accuracy over innuendo was the better approach to take.

”Look out! Incoming!”

Jack turned at the shout. It was a grinning Sean Kelly, alerting Jack to the fact that three little boys were barreling straight for him, racing to see who could reach him first. Laughing, Jack put his arms up as if under arrest and braced himself for the boisterous onslaught.

“These guys are on my hockey team,” Sean said. “I’m the boss of them, and they wanted to know who’s the boss of me. This is him, guys,” he said to the boys. “This is the great Jack Barnes.”

The boys shifted from foot to foot, smiling at Jack but ready to move onto the next interesting thing, which arrived in the form of a new team of sled dogs, led by two pure white Samoyeds.

“Oh, look at those ones!”

And just like that, they were gone, leaving Sean and Jack in their wake.

“I heard Elizabeth’s team kicked butt at the Arctic Ice Jamboree,” Sean said of a recent hockey tournament in which they’d played.

“They did,” Jack said proudly. “They came in third overall.”

“Nice,” Sean said. “It seems like Elizabeth’s doing a lot of winning these days.”

“I’d agree with that.”

Sean gave Jack a self-satisfied look. “I’m responsible for bringing the two of you together, you know.”

“You are, huh?” Jack crossed his arms. “Do tell.”

“I told her to take a shot on you,” Sean said. “And I told her to make you some crazy-good dessert she was telling me about. The way to a guy’s heart is through his stomach or whatever that line is, you know?”

Ah yes, Jack thought. The Butterfinger cookie dough cheesecake brownies. “So you’re responsible for the extra five pounds I’ve put on since meeting her,” Jack joked, patting his stomach. He hadn’t really gained any weight, but he’d had to increase the intensity of his workouts to accommodate Elizabeth’s baking skills. “What about you, Sean? You seeing anyone?”

“Nah. I haven’t met anyone who’s challenged me,” Sean said. “Lately I’ve been falling out of lust before I can fall into love.”

“Don’t give up,” Jack said. “She’s out there, man.”

Sean laughed. “It’s not like I’m pining away or anything.”

“Neither was I,” Jack said. “But when destiny knocks, you’d be wise to open the door.”

“Ooh, philosophical,” Sean said, and attempted but failed to nudge Jack onto a patch of slick ice. “I’m gonna join Dylan over there. Looks like he’s destined to get some phone numbers.” Sean nodded in the direction of Dylan Hart, who was chatting up a pair of female tourists.

“Hey, brother.”

Jack turned and saw Josh, who’d brought him a fresh cup of coffee.

“Here comes Andrew again,” Josh said. “Bringing more people.”

“Great,” Jack said.

In addition to being Jack’s captain before retiring from the fire department, Andrew Blake was a member of city council and owner of the Golden Touch Barber Shop. He’d made it his mission that weekend to bring as many people as possible to the staging area to smooth the way for the uncomfortable first conversations that needed to happen between Jack, Josh, and people they knew but had not yet seen since the news had broken about their father’s crime.

This time, Andrew had with him Linda and Peter Eubanks. Linda, a Tlingit Eskimo artist, had been their mom’s friend; they’d played Bunco together along with a bunch of other women. Peter, head of the glaciology department at Alaska State University, was familiar to Jack from several past fundraisers for Doc Bauer’s community clinic.

“Mrs. Eubanks, nice to see you,” Jack said as they approached, taking off his glove and extending his hand to her.

Linda ignored it and went in for one of her signature big hugs. “We’ve been thinking of you all. Your mom would be so proud of you, honey.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jack said.

“And you,” Linda said to Josh, moving on to hug him, too. “You were the cutest little thing. I remember you running around in your jammies at the Bunco games your mom hosted, always climbing in her lap and helping yourself to whatever dessert she was attempting to enjoy.”

Josh laughed. “That sounds like me.”

Meanwhile, Jack extended a hand to Peter, who shook it.

“Good to see you, Jack,” Peter said. “It’s a hell of a thing about your father. How are you holding up?”

“I’m holding up just fine, actually.”

“Good to hear.”

It was true. Jack was more than holding up fine—most days, he felt downright giddy with happiness because of how crazy in love he was with Elizabeth. Since their second meeting on that snowy path, not a day had gone by when they didn’t see each other or, when Jack was on shift, talk for hours on the phone.

While Charlene Pickens was up and around on crutches by then, and no longer needed Elizabeth’s help, there was no talk of her moving out of the cabin … not that she slept there much, anyway. Nights were for lovemaking in Jack’s big bed.

So were mornings.

Afternoons, too.

He couldn’t get enough of her, and he knew it would be like that for the rest of his life. He and Elizabeth took Rugby for long walks, and they rode Honest Abe and Charlene’s horse, Old Bucket, through the forest behind Jack’s house. Elizabeth often studied in front of Jack’s fireplace while he made dinner, and he had yet to come home from a shift where she didn’t have breakfast waiting for him. It usually got cold, though, because after being away from her for forty-eight hours and coming home to her greeting him wearing nothing more than a sexy satin kimono … well, her robe was not destined to stay on for long.

Peter’s question had reminded Jack of Elizabeth, and he had a sudden, urgent need to see her summer-blue eyes and loving smile.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said to Peter and Linda, who continued chatting with Josh.

Jack approached Tom, his fellow captain, and clapped him on the back. “Mind keeping an eye on my engine mouth-breathers for a few minutes?”

Tom’s eyes gleamed. “Sure, but why?”

Jack laughed. “Why do you ask like that?”

“Because you’ve got a hungry look in your eyes, my friend. And not for anything to eat.”

“You know me too well.”

“Dude, I’ve traveled with you for years and watched you work your charms on more than a few women—I know that look. I still can’t believe you’re bailing on me with the France trip,” he said of the next bachelor’s trip they’d planned on taking. “Anyway, off you go. Say hi to Elizabeth for me.”

“Will do,” Jack said, but by the time he stopped to say hello to Cassie Holt, who was there reporting for the KFLS evening broadcast, and got flagged down by Hayley March, who along with Rebecca Miller was handing out miniature cherry pies to mushers as they crossed the checkpoint line, he completely forgot.

He stepped inside the Sled Dog’s heated tent and saw Elizabeth behind the bar, her face lit up with laughter, and he fell in love with her all over again.

* * *

Elizabeth’s bartending apron was stuffed with cash, and she was working hard to keep the tips flowing. She’d never had such a profitable weekend, although she wasn’t sure how much of it was due to the Iditarod crowd and how much was due to the general goodwill that had been extended to her since her father’s exoneration.

Ever since Bruce Barnes made his public apology, people had been stopping her on the street to hug her; her tips had nearly doubled; and an anonymous benefactor had even pre-paid her tuition at Alaska State, which would enable her to transfer there from the community college sooner rather than later.

Destiny was funny, she thought. If a price had to be paid for happiness, if trials had to come first, she glad for all of it. Now she was working toward the career she’d always wanted, her bartending job was twice as fun since her livelihood no longer depended on it, and she was in love with a sexy, honorable, make-her-heart-soar man who loved her back.

That man appeared in the Sled Dog tent just then, grinning at her, his face made years younger by his happy expression.

Elizabeth waved at Jack to come over. “Hi, handsome,” she said.

Jack took off his gloves and hat and stuffed them in his pockets. The tent was a comfortable temperature with the heaters and the packed bodies.

“I love you,” he said.

Elizabeth beamed a smile. Jack made a point to say those words to her every day. “I love you, too.”

“How’s it going in here?”

“I was just thinking it’s too bad you’re on duty and I can’t pour you a pint of the amber you like so much.”

Jack glanced over at a bar-height table, where Fred Moran, the fire chief, was enjoying a beer with his wife. “That’s only for chiefs to do,” he said.

“Maybe someday,” Elizabeth said with a wink. She had total confidence that Jack might be fire chief or mayor someday if he wanted it. Not a destiny-knowing, the kind she had about their relationship, but a Jack-knowing. Her heart swelled with love for her strong, capable, big-hearted man.

Jack’s dark eyes gleamed with fun. “Can you take a short break?”

Elizabeth looked around. Three other bartenders were working the tent. “Sure, a short one. Do you want to walk around?”

“Actually …” Jack nodded behind her. There was a small storage area in the back of the tent made of stacked silver beer kegs.

“Jack Barnes!” Elizabeth said, mischief in her voice.

“Do you think we can get away with it?”

She laughed. “We can try.”

She threw down her apron and Jack met her behind the bar. They walked nonchalantly behind the beer kegs, finding a small space of relative privacy.

They crashed together, Jack’s lips cold against hers, but his hands were warm as they cupped her face. She reached inside his heavy department-issue parka and pulled him tight against her, feeling the heat of his stiff manhood even through all the layers of clothing.

Their kiss grew in intensity and Elizabeth made an effort not to moan with delight when Jack’s mouth moved to the sensitive skin of her throat, and then her neck, just behind her right ear. Their lips met again and Elizabeth pulled him even closer against her … and backed straight up into the stacks of beer barrels.

The barrels teetered.

Elizabeth made an incoherent noise of alarm.

The barrels tilted even more … and then Jack threw out a hand to stabilize them from the top. Elizabeth watched, wide-eyed, as he steadied the row and then slowly lifted his hands away.

“You sure do know how to rescue things,” she said.

He grinned. “That’s my job.”

“Nope,” she said. “Your only job right now is to kiss me like you mean it.”

And that was exactly what he did.  

* * *