What It Takes: A Kowalski Reunion Novel

by Shannon Stacey

  During her very informal interview, which had been a conference call with Rosie and Josh Kowalski, Rosie had made a joke about being a newlywed and then explained to Laney that she and Andy had only been married for a couple of years.

  Just thinking about it made Laney smile. If Rose could find true love and happiness at her age, that meant there was still plenty of time for Laney. She could take her time making her life into what she wanted it to be and then maybe, in the distant future, she’d be lucky enough to find a man who would want to share it with her.

  First she had to figure out what exactly she wanted her life to be, of course. And that’s why she was here, in the middle of nowhere Maine, with nothing but her clothes, a few prized possessions, and a tablet loaded up with movies her ex-husband hadn’t wanted to watch and books she’d never gotten around to reading. She was going to live simply, consume things she enjoyed and find her true self.

  She felt as if she was starring in one of those movies, invariably based on bestselling books, in which women went on epic treks of self-discovery to distant and exotic lands, except in Laney’s case, she’d trekked to Maine to live in a box on wheels for a few months.

  The Northern Star Lodge & Campground was her distant and exotic land. Or distant-ish, since she’d started her journey in Rhode Island. But the difference between the decade she’d spent being Mrs. Patrick Ballard in a big house in Warwick and now couldn’t be measured in miles.

  “Let’s go out front and I’ll tell you where we keep some of the things you might need, like extra propane tanks.”

  Laney had already figured out that out front meant the lodge itself and the lawn and outbuildings surrounding it, and out back meant the camping area and field. As soon as they walked through the gap in the trees, though, she saw two guys—one of them being Josh—standing next to a trailer bearing an ATV that looked a little worse for wear.

  “Who’s that with Josh?” she asked, knowing she’d be meeting a whole lot of new people in the days to come.

  “That’s Ben Rivers,” Rosie answered. “He grew up in Whitford, but he moved away to the city years ago. Now he’s back, which makes his mama happy, let me tell you. Ben’s a good boy.”

  Laney bit back a laugh at the idea of the man standing across the yard being described as a good boy. He looked about her age or maybe a little older, with dark hair and a scruffy jaw. He wasn’t as tall as Josh but Laney could tell he was at least a couple inches taller than her, so he was probably five-ten or five-eleven. Very faded jeans and a navy T-shirt hugged his body, and he was wearing battered work boots.

  But it wasn’t his appearance that caused Laney to be amused by the word boy. Whoever Ben was, he carried himself with the kind of confidence and authority that came from life experience and feeling secure in his place in the world.

  Must be nice.

  And then he turned his head to look at her, one eyebrow arched as if silently asking why she was staring at him. She felt her cheeks warm before his gaze shifted to Rosie beside her. He smiled, and his face lit up in a way that made Laney’s pulse quicken.

  How ridiculous to feel as if she could burst into flames just seeing a man smile, and not even at her, she thought. It had been a very long time since she’d had that kind of reaction to a man and, while she was glad everything felt as if it was in good working order, she wasn’t here for that.

  She was here to work so, as Rosie spoke to her, she tore her gaze away from the handsome good boy and tried to pay attention.

  Chapter Two

  Ben waved to Rosie Davis—no, it was Miller now, he reminded himself—but as she turned to keep walking, he couldn’t stop his gaze from returning to the woman with her. She was close to his own age, with long light brown hair that had been highlighted either naturally by the sun or very professionally from a bottle.

  Probably by the sun, he thought, noticing how tan her long legs were and the color across the apples of her cheeks. She’d been spending a lot of time outside. As he watched, Rosie pointed at each of the lodge’s outbuildings, as if explaining what each was. It seemed like an odd thing for a camper to be interested in.

  “Who’s that?” he finally asked Josh. “The woman with Rosie, I mean.”

  “Her name’s Laney. She’s going to be helping out for a while.”

  “It’s quite the expansion you guys have done here. The campground. Cabins. A pool. Now an employee who’s not family.” The lodge had been in the family for several generations, and it was Josh’s dad who’d turned it into a snowmobile lodge. They’d managed to get by for many years on the seasonal business, but when the economy tanked, they’d found a way to go year-round by hooking the town into the nearby ATV trails.

  Josh nodded. “It’s crazy how much business the trails have brought to town. We’ve had at least a half a dozen new businesses in the last couple of years. And since we expanded and added the campground, it’s harder to keep up. I mean, technically there are four of us, but Katie has the barbershop and she’s having a baby in three months. Rosie’s been taking care of this lodge my whole life and Andy helps with the campground, but she’s almost seventy and he’s at least that. I don’t want them working that hard.”

  “You can’t do it alone.”

  Josh shook his head. “Not and keep up with the club business. Since I’m the president and Andy’s the trail administrator, that takes up a good chunk of our time. It makes sense to have somebody who can help out in a general sense and focus on just the guests.”

  “Is she from around here?”

  “No, but she was willing to live on-site in a camper until after the long Labor Day weekend, accepted the salary we offered and Rosie liked her.”

  Ben suspected it was the last qualification that had sealed the deal. Rosie had been hired by Frank and Sarah Kowalski back when he was a kid and he couldn’t remember when Sarah had died, but he’d been young. Rosie had not only been taking care of the lodge for Josh’s whole life, but she’d been like a mother to him and his brothers and sister, too. Accepting help wouldn’t come easy to Rosie, so her actually liking whoever they hired was vital.

  “You ran a background check, right?” he asked, because there had to be a reason why a woman his age would take on a job probably better suited to a college kid looking to earn a paycheck while saving money on rent over the summer.

  Josh snorted. “The chief of police is Andy’s son and my brother-in-law. What do you think?”

  “I’m going to buy a whiteboard to start keeping track of that stuff.” Ben shook his head. Josh was married to Andy’s stepdaughter, Katie. And Andy’s son, Drew, was married to Josh’s sister, Liz. The bottom line, though, was that anybody looking to work at the Northern Star would be thoroughly vetted.

  “I’m going to leave the wheeler right on the trailer,” Josh said. “He brought it up in the bed of his pickup, but in its current condition, he’d be better off borrowing the trailer from me.”

  But they had to unhook the trailer from Josh’s truck, and it was an old one. That meant lifting the hitch off the ball by hand and setting the tongue on a heavy-duty jack stand Josh grabbed from the barn. Because nothing was ever easy, it slipped—a rough edge cutting the palm of his hand—and he let loose a few choice swear words.

  “We probably own twenty pairs of leather work gloves between us,” Josh said, brushing rusty paint flakes off his hands.

  Ben frowned at the cut, carefully brushing a few paint flakes away from it. “I’ve got at least three in my truck right now.”

  “Me, too.” Josh laughed. “I appreciate the help.”

  “No problem. I figure if I pop over and make myself useful enough, eventually Rosie will bake me up some of that banana bread I love. There are some things a man never forgets and Rosie’s cooking is one of them. Your wife inherit that gene from her mom?”

  “No. Coo
king is not one of Katie’s stronger skills.” After taking a deep breath, Josh looked toward the break in the tree line that marked the beginning of the camping area. “I guess I’ll go see what’s happening with this guy and let him know his machine’s back. For all I know, he decided to head to the hospital.”

  “I doubt it.” Ben looked at his hands. “I’m going to go in and wash up, since I want to run a little soap over this. I’ll catch you later.”

  He was halfway to the house when he realized he was on an intercept course with Laney, who must have been done walking with Rosie. He could have hesitated or veered off toward his truck, but he’d meet the woman at some point. It might as well be now.

  Ben saw the moment she saw him—the hesitation in her step—but then she smiled and kept walking until their paths converged. “Hi, I’m Laney Caswell.”

  “Ben Rivers.” He started to hold out his hand, and then stopped, twisting his wrist to show her his palm. “I’d shake your hand, but that trailer back there got the better of me.”

  Frowning, she leaned closer to look at it. “That cut needs to be cleaned.”

  “Yeah, I’ll get to it.”

  “I know exactly what that means when a man says it. You’ll probably spit on it and wipe it on your jeans when I’m not looking.”

  “Or slap a little PVC glue on it,” he teased, unable to help himself.

  “Rosie had a first aid kit in the kitchen,” she said. “I’ll take care of it for you.”

  Ben could tell her he’d been on his way to the kitchen already. He could tell her he was pretty well qualified to deal with a small cut on his hand. Instead, he nodded and gestured for her to lead the way.

  “Wash your hands and then have a seat,” she said firmly before going into the pantry.

  By the time he’d done as he was told and then sat down, Laney had found an ancient plastic storage bin marked FIRST AID in big letters on a piece of masking tape. She carried it over and popped the lid. “Rosie told me she’s had this box for thirty years because regular first aid kits weren’t enough for the Kowalski family.”

  “She wasn’t lying.” He held out his hand, palm up on the table, so she could look at it.

  “You’ve known them a long time, then?”

  “My whole life. I ran with Josh’s brother Sean, mostly, since we’re the same age, but we all grew up together.”

  “There’s something in this,” she said before rummaging in the box for tweezers. Then she opened an alcohol wipe and cleaned the slanted tips, which he appreciated.

  “Probably a paint chip. The trailer’s seen better days. And before you ask, my tetanus is up to date.”

  When she laid her fingers across his, holding them flat, Ben felt a frisson of awareness up the back of his neck. He was aware of how soft her hands were. That her hair smelled like roses. Her eyes were blue and she had long, makeup-free lashes the color of dark maple syrup.

  Then she went after the paint chip and he hissed at the sharp pain. She paused for a second, then kept going. “I have to get it.”

  “I know. I’m okay,” he said. But he liked the sound of her voice and wanted to hear more of it. “You should talk and distract me from what you’re doing.”

  “I’m trying to concentrate. You talk and that’ll distract you.”

  “Okay, so Josh said you’re not from around here, but he didn’t say where you’re from. Still New England, I’d guess from the accent.” She nodded, but didn’t say anything else. The corners of her mouth tilted up in a small smile, though, so he felt comfortable prodding a little more. “Yankees or Red Sox?”

  She snorted. “Red Sox. How is that even a question?”

  “Rhode Island, then?”

  “Yes. Warwick.” She stopped poking at his cut to look up at him. “How did you guess that from a baseball team?”

  “I’ve got a pretty good ear for accents, so I’d already narrowed it down to Connecticut or Rhode Island. Somebody from Connecticut would know why I asked the question, since they’re infected by Yankees fans from New York City, so I went all in on the Ocean State.”

  “Good call. Okay, I got the paint out, so go wash your hands and then I’ll put some gunk on it.”

  He chuckled as he walked to the sink. “Gunk? I take it you can get that over the counter?”

  “It’s fancy medical terminology.”

  Her laugh was cute and Ben was reluctant to turn the water on because it might drown it out. But he needed to wash the cut, so he grabbed the soap, gritted his teeth and got on with it. Wincing, he patted it dry with a paper towel, trying to think of something he could say to make her laugh again.

  But when he turned back around, Laney wasn’t even smiling. Her cheeks were bright pink and her lips were pressed together. “What’s wrong?”

  “I had noticed that your shirt says WFD on the front, but I didn’t realize what it stood for. But it says Whitford Fire Department on the back, with paramedic under it in big capital letters.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t suppose there’s any chance at all you bought that shirt at a yard sale or stole it from a Laundromat?”

  That made him laugh, even though he had no idea what she was talking about. “No, it’s mine. Even though it was Josh—because he’s president of the ATV club—and Drew Miller, the police chief, who not only offered me the job, but talked me into taking it, I’m officially employed by the town through the fire department.”

  She sighed, shaking her head. “So you’re a paramedic?”

  “Yes. Is that a problem? You look...not happy about it and I can’t figure out why.”

  “Maybe because I told you you’d probably spit on your cut and wipe it on your jeans and made you come in here and the entire time you’re actually a trained medical professional.” She rolled her eyes. “I feel kind of stupid right now.”

  “Don’t.” Ben hated seeing that look on her face. The embarrassment and self-deprecation he saw there made him want to comfort her—to touch her—so he crossed his arms to keep his hands confined. It took everything he had in him not to wince when his palm brushed over his shirt because he was an idiot. “Professionals aren’t always the best at taking care of themselves. And there was a fifty-fifty chance I was going to wipe it on my jeans, though I would have washed it out eventually.”

  “You probably wouldn’t have spit on it, though.”

  He laughed. “Probably not.”

  Her expression cleared, leaving nothing but that smile he liked. “Sit back down and let me put a bandage on it. Paramedic or not, it’s harder with one hand.”

  Doing as he was told, Ben sat back at the table and offered his hand. “Usually I’d skip this part, but I’m afraid if it gets infected, you might try to give me a shot.”

  “Funny.” She opened the tube of ointment and set it aside. “So you grew up here, but Rosie said you moved to the city. She didn’t say which city, though.”

  “I’ve been in the Lewiston-Auburn area for the last eight or nine years, though I started on the coast. It kept me pretty busy.”

  “This will be a big change of pace for you, then,” she said, opening the wrapper for the adhesive bandage. After squeezing a little ointment onto the pad, she reached for his hand.

  “It seems that way but, really, this job has its own set of challenges. The city was busy, but I had a fully stocked ambulance, paved roads and the magic ability to make all the stoplights green. Here, I’ll have fewer calls, but I have to find my patients out in the woods, treat them with what I can fit in the cargo boxes on my ATV and then figure out how to get them to either an intersection an ambulance can get to or a clearing where a helicopter can land.”

  Instead of holding his hand down this time, Laney took his fingers and lifted it. He watched her brows draw together and caught her bottom lip between
her teeth as he tried not to laugh. Laney seemed to have a good sense of humor, but she’d been feeling embarrassed just a few minutes ago and he didn’t want to bring that back.

  “This isn’t going to stick well,” she said as she laid the bandage across the cut and pressed the adhesive against his skin. “Maybe I should wrap it with gauze to hold it on.”

  “It’ll get me home and even if you wrapped it, I’d have to change it when I shower anyway.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She was still holding his hand and though he knew she was doing it thoughtlessly because she wasn’t done fussing over him and she was talking, he liked it. It was weird, since he didn’t know this woman, but there was something about her that made him want to change that.

  “I’m sure. I need to get back to the station and do some paperwork before I head home, so there will be plenty of time for that medical gunk to soak in.”

  She let go of his hand, but she laughed again, which was just as good. “I guess I don’t have to give you aftercare instructions.”

  “No, but if I need advice, I know where to find you.”

  She smiled up at him as he stood. “I’ll be here for the summer.”

  Ben forced himself to thank her again and then walk out the door, when he really wanted to pour them each a glass of lemonade and go sit out on the front porch with her.

  There would be plenty of time for getting to know Laney Caswell.

  * * *

  Once the kitchen door had closed behind Ben, Laney bent forward and let her forehead hit the big wooden table with a thunk.

  I’ll be here all summer.

  Had she really sounded as breathless as she had in her own mind? Seriously, she couldn’t have issued a more obvious invitation short of breaking out card stock and a calligraphy pen.

  She should put the first aid box away. Then she should look at the list Rosie had left for her on a side table in the living room, which detailed the daily housekeeping tasks for the lodge and campground. Andy had wanted to introduce Rosie to a couple who’d stopped by to visit some friends who were camping there, so she’d sent Laney to look over the to-do list so they could discuss it later. And then she’d gotten sidetracked by a sexy paramedic with an injured palm and a wicked grin.