After a bit more time examining her new sled, Scarlett set to putting the remaining equipment away. Lauren had already gone back inside to help Shane with his early afternoon exercises.
That left Scarlett on her own, and she chose to spend that time studying the layout of the storage shed, to commit as much of it to memory as she possibly could. Athletic skill and building a stronger rapport with the dogs would take time, but she could study all the informational knowledge now—master that so she was ready when the other pieces of her training caught up.
The shed smelled of fresh paint and plaster, even though it had been completed while Lauren was out running the Iditarod as a celebratory gift from Shane to her and the dogs.
Where the chic new supply shed stood, a shabby, old wooden one had once sat in its place. Shane had kept the doors locked firmly until the night he forgot to turn off a space heater and the entire thing took to flame.
Now it was Lauren’s oasis and soon-to-be Scarlett’s, too. Half of the space held neatly put-together shelves and well-organized equipment, and the other half hosted a couch, desk, and mini fridge.
“It’s Lauren’s new she-shed!” Shane had declared proudly upon showing off the construction that was more than double the size of its predecessor. “I read about them on Buzzfeed. It’s her own little home away from home.”
Lauren had kissed his cheek and said, “My home less than twenty feet away from home, and I love it!”
She had, of course, then told Scarlett she could use the space whenever she needed a little more privacy than her bedroom provided. The only stipulation was that she not bring out a space heater, especially since the shed was already equipped with its own tiny heating system.
Scarlett now searched through the shelves, committing the location of each item to memory. If ever she needed a snow hook in a hurry, she’d get one from the bottom right of the shelf closest to the door. The dog’s harnesses were arranged neatly at eye level on a series of brightly colored hooks.
The extra dog food could be found—
“Excuse me?” A familiar male voice floated into the shed, interrupting Scarlett’s assessment of her stock. She knew exactly who the voice belonged to, but not how it had reached her here. Had she accidentally turned on the radio or something?
But, no, the dangerous combination of honeysuckle and lavender had seeped into her safe space as well.
Which could only mean…
Slowly, she rose from her stooping position and turned toward the door, hoping, praying that somehow her eyes would tell a different story than the one her other senses insisted upon.
But, no, Henry Mitchell, III stood in the open doorframe, light illuminating him from behind, making it hard for Scarlett to discern his expression.
“So we meet again,” he said smoothly, with the smallest hint of humor in his voice. Did he think the pain he’d put her through was funny? Because she certainly didn’t.
“What do you want?” she managed, crossing her arms in front of her chest and holding back a giant sigh.
“I had no idea it was you that night,” he admitted. “I hope Shane will forgive me for flirting with his missus, because I need your help. I need both of your help.”
The words washed over Scarlett. So much to take in. She’d prepared what she would say to him should they ever meet again at least a hundred times, but now that he had come, she couldn’t get any of them out.
“I’m not…” she started. How would she finish it? Not going to help you? Not Lauren, as you clearly think I am? Not going to forgive you? The possibilities stretched on almost as far as the snowy fields outside.
Henry took several confident strides toward her. He wore a placating expression as if dealing with a disobedient dog or a difficult child. Scarlett hated it, hated him, and especially hated that, despite her anger, her body still reacted to his devastatingly handsome face and physique.
Devastating like an earthquake or a hurricane.
A poison.
“Look, I just—”
“You just need to leave!” Lauren interrupted, charging in and startling them both.
“Who’s this, Lauren?” Henry asked Scarlett.
“This is Lauren,” Lauren answered. “And you need to leave my friend alone. You’ve done enough already.”
“I came here to see you,” he said, unfazed by the two sets of angry female eyes boring holes into his skull.
“Well, mission accomplished. You see me. Now get out,” Lauren growled. Even her normally pretty features seemed wild in her rage.
Henry took two defiant steps forward and now stood only inches from Lauren.
Lauren didn’t waste a second. Having already had the time to memorize the contents of her shed, she bent down swiftly and grabbed a snow hook from the lowest shelf just behind her.
“Okay…” Henry said, taking a firm step back in response. “Look, no need to get angry. I just came to hire you to help me train for the race. I’ll pay you well and keep the press out of your hair.”
Lauren raised the hook threateningly above her head, which had the desired effect.
“Jeez, all right! I’ll take that as a no for now.”
“It’s a no forever. Get lost!”
Scarlett watched as Henry stumbled back out through the door, as Lauren filled its frame, patting the hook in her hand like an old-school musical gangster. She practically expected her friend to snap her fingers and break out into song.
Everyone else played their parts in this little performance, but not Scarlett. She had forgotten her lines, trapped in the blinding spotlight of Henry Mitchell, III’s confident gaze.
There would be no encore performance for her. No second chance to get things right.
She’d flubbed it up.
Again.