Page 100 of Big Dill

His mouth quirks. “I’m pretty sure I showed you my moves, Jami. In fact, I brought my A-game.”

Heat blooms low in my belly at the memory. I chuckle. “No. Your caribou moves.”

He laughs as he backs out of the driveway. “Right. Those.”

“Tonight,” I say, pointing at him. “At your mother’s. I want to see your caribou moves.”

“I am not doing that in front of everyone,” he says firmly, then gives me a wicked wink. “Those moves are for you only.”

“Come on,” I coax. “I bet the kids will do them with you.” Honestly, I’m dying to see his interpretation of a running caribou.

He glances at me, eyes curious. “Will you?”

I shrug, trying for casual. “Sure. Once you teach me.” I laugh. “Hey, when in Rome…”

He chuckles, shaking his head, then there’s a new seriousness about him. “You know, Jami, I really like how you’re embracing the culture here.”

I sink back into my seat, surprised by how much that means to me. I came here fully expecting to hate everything—cold, small-town, Newfoundland traditions and all. I had zero intention of embracing any of it.

Yet here I am.

You go, girl.

Maybe it will be a little harder to go back to the mainland.

“Have you ever seen a dog sled?”

“Of course.”

“I’d love to see that.”

“Instead of seeing that, you can participate in it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, in Lab City, there’s a company that gives guided tours.”

I sink into my seat and stifle a yawn. “Wow, that would be so much fun.”

“I can arrange it, and while we’re there⁠—”

“No, I am not kissing a cod,” I shoot back and fold my arms like a petulant child.

Snow crunches beneath the tires as he eases the truck forward. “Oh, I think you are.”

My gaze jerks to his to find him grinning like he knows something I don’t. “I absolutely am not⁠—”

The whir of a helicopter overhead cuts me off. I tip my head back and point skyward. “It’s Frank.”

“Yup,” Brody says easily. “That’s Frank.”

But then his expression changes. The easy grin fades, replaced by a crease between his brows that reminds me of the medical chopper we heard yesterday. In a town this small, Brody knows everyone—every family, every story—so any sign of trouble is obviously worrisome for him.

“Do you think they’re tracking a herd?” I ask as the helicopter loops back around.

He slows the truck. Comes to a full stop right in the middle of the road.

“What?” I ask, heart picking up speed.