Page 92 of Big Dill

“You mean we’re going to be off the grid today and tomorrow? No phone, no Wi-Fi, no escape?” I cross my arms like a defiant child. “You should have mentioned that before I agreed to come.” I glare at him. “Wait, I don’t even remember agreeing to come.”

Brody turns that signature grin on me, the one that’s equal parts possessive and devilish, the one that sets my insides on fire without even trying. “You didn’t. But I’m sure I can think of something to help you pass the time.”

My body reacts, reminding me we haven’t had a single stolen moment since dart night. I didn’t think we’d have this weekend either. We’d asked Jaxon to come along. We didn’t want him thinking we were sneaking off to the cottage to do, you know…things. Though, honestly, that’s exactly what we’re going to do. But Jaxon had conveniently bowed out, drowning in administrative work with the influx of new customers. He insisted we take the truck, with the warmer weather he could easily walk back and forth to work.

“Brody, look!” I yell, and he slams on the brakes. The truck sways slightly on the icy road before settling into a full stop. My heart skips a beat as I lean forward, eyes wide, and a herd of four-legged creatures glides across the snow in front of us.

“Are they…deer?” I whisper, mesmerized.

“Caribou,” he corrects, grinning at me like I just asked the cutest question in the world.

“They’re just…crossing like that? They’re not afraid of us?”

“Yes. And no,” he answers.

“Ohmigod,” I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“Good thing we got up early,” he says smugly.

I whack him lightly on the shoulder. “Uh, remember Google?” I shake my now useless phone at him.

“Not the same,” he says with a chuckle.

He’s right. This snow-dusted landscape, the caribou gliding with surprising grace despite their awkward limbs, the quiet hush of the morning is way better than any phone screen could show. I watch, laughing as one of the caribou picks up the pace, its legs swaying from side to side in a rhythm that’s somehow both clumsy and mesmerizing, antlers tipping with every step.

“They run so funny,” I admit.

“We call it the caribou dance,” Brody says with a smirk. “I can show you the moves later.”

“Oh Brody,” I laugh, shaking my head. “You are definitely showing me those moves.”

“You’re on,” he replies, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Wait…what will you use for the antlers?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got game, Little Birdie,” he says, his grin widening.

Laughing, he reaches across the seat and takes my hand. He just holds it there, warm and steady, as the herd moves gracefully across the snowy expanse. For some reason, it feels profound, like we’re sharing a quiet, fleeting moment that only belongs to the two of us. I steal a quick glance at him, taking in his strong jawline, the way the morning light catches the edge of his profile, and my stomach tightens with something deeper than mere desire.

Just then, a helicopter hums overhead, swooping low enough to give its passengers a perfect view of the caribou. I squeeze Brody’s hand instinctively. “That doesn’t look safe,” I mutter, eyes wide.

“That’s Frank,” Brody says as if that explains everything. “We could take one of his tours if you like.”

“I’m not sure,” I admit, my pulse quickening at the noise and the sudden flutter of rotor blades. “I’m not a fan of flying, and definitely not a fan of flying that close to a road.”

“It’s Frank,” he says again, his tone almost amused, and after the helicopter roars past and the herd scatters into the forest, we start moving again.

I settle back into my seat, taking in the beauty of the snow-laden evergreens. Sunlight glints off the ice crystals, making the world sparkle. A flash of white catches my eye.

“What are those?” I ask, pointing.

“Ptarmigan,” he answers, impressed. “Good eye. They’re tricky to spot in the snow. Dark meat, similar to duck.”

“Dark meat?” I blurt out, blinking. “You eat them?”

He nods. “I’ve got some rifles at the cottage if you want to try your hand at dinner.”

“No,” I blurt out. “I’ll stick to the steaks in the cooler, thank you very much.”