by Meg Ripley
“Is there any reason you’re calling?”
“Yes. I mostly just wanted to make sure you got to the room safely.”
Yeah, right.
“Well I have, thank you, and I’m quite tired. I’d like to go to bed, so if that’s—”
“Just make sure you go to the park tomorrow to start your research.”
“Will do.” I almost slammed down the receiver. I had just spoken with him that very same day; I certainly didn’t need to be reminded of the task. If he called in the morning, I decided I wasn’t going to answer. I didn’t need a baby sitter.
I turned on the television and was happy to see the hotel provided HBO and Showtime. The first season of True Blood was playing as the late night special and I had been meaning to stream it when I had time, but I could at least watch the first episode and see if I liked it. That was if I didn’t fall asleep while watching it.
I was enjoying it, but after half an hour, my eyes grew heavy and I drifted off in the middle of the episode.
2
Kathleen
I woke up the next morning at 9am. Sleeping for eight hours was not a luxury I was accustomed to; usually, I was only able to sleep in three-hour intervals. I would be on the hacking site until I couldn’t keep my eyes open, doze off for a few hours, and repeat. I couldn’t afford to sleep for long; all I could think about were the jobs I was missing out on.
Usually, most hackers hungrily scanned through the job listings for gigs they were willing to take on, and by the time I would get through the list, the only jobs left would be the ones no one in their right mind would want.
Like the one I got caught doing.
Anything government-related was something most hackers wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole, especially if the payment wasn’t worth the hassle. So that usually left the lower-budget and/or less desirable jobs for me.
For once, I didn’t have to stress over job hunting, and it felt pretty damn good.
I spotted a notepad on the nightstand, saying there were three restaurants on site.
No continental breakfast? That sucks.
La Bella Vita had flatbread pizzas and wine, which was hardly a breakfast. Stewman’s Lobster Pound had seafood sandwiches and salads which seemed promising until I noticed that they were only open for dinner. And then there was pool bar. There’s a pool here, too?
It must have been around the back of the building because I hadn’t seen it when I drove up to the inn. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a swimsuit, so I made a mental note to pick one up on the drive back to the hotel if I saw one. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been in a swimming pool and, god, it sounded relaxing. If they’re paying for it, I might as well enjoy it.
So, it seemed the options for breakfast were nil. The notepad gave suggestions on places you could order from, but I figured since I was getting up anyway, I would just grab something on my way to the park. If I were lucky, maybe there’d be a little donut shop on the way.
I grabbed my phone and looked for some places nearby on Yelp. The Log Cabin restaurant offered a decent menu, despite its three-and-a-half-star rating. It looked cheap, and that was enough for me, so I rolled out of bed, showered, and got dressed in twenty minutes. I headed out the door and raced to the restaurant, feeling some hunger pains, realizing I hadn’t eaten anything since the tuna melt sandwich the day before.
When I got to the restaurant, it was semi-busy, but I was seated quickly. My waitress swung right over to get me a drink. She had a brunette ponytail and looked in her mid-forties, and her name tag read ‘Patricia.’
“What can I get you to drink, honey?”
“I’ll have a hot chocolate, please.”
“Whipped cream?”
“No, thank you.” I thought about getting coffee, but I felt pretty well rested. I flipped over the one-page menu and noticed a meal in red text that caught my eye.
Maine Logger’s Plate, a favorite! This will get you ready for a day in Acadia National Park! It seemed like the best deal on the menu. Who am I to ignore fate?
The waitress returned with the hot chocolate.
“Have you decided?”
“Yes, I’ll have the Maine Logger’s Plate, please.” I handed her the menu.
“Great choice! How would you like your eggs?” She started scribbling onto her notepad.
“Omelet style, please, with ham, onions, peppers and cheddar cheese.”
“Sausage or Bacon?”
“Bacon, please.”
“White, wheat, or rye toast?”
“White, please. And could you add cheddar to my home fries as well?” I smiled.
“Absolutely! I’ll put this right in for you and it should be out in a jiffy.” She returned the gesture and scurried away to hand the order to the cook.
I didn’t have to wait long for the food to come. After ten minutes, Patricia was placing two plates in front of me: a small one holding the two pancakes, and another large plate with the bacon, home fries, and omelet piled on top. The food looked amazing, and when I took my first bite, it was pretty damn delicious. I decided that I would probably have breakfast there every day, if I was feeling in the mood for it; Hanson was giving me a daily sixty-dollar allowance for meals, so why the hell not. After I practically licked the plates clean, I paid the bill and left the restaurant, heading off for my first visit to Acadia.
Pop. Pshhhhhhhhhhhh… Two miles down the road, the car skidded hard to the right side of the road and I did my best to straighten the wheel before it came to a complete stop.
“What the fuck was that?” I got out of the car and walked around its perimeter, then, I saw it: a scrap of sheet metal was lying a few yards back on the road, and my right two tires were completely slashed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
It would be just my luck to get two flat tires in the middle of an open stretch of road with no cars. Isn’t this the height of tourist season, though? I assumed some family in an SUV with kayaks secured to its top would be driving by soon, so I waited. Within a few minutes, I spotted a several cars on the horizon, and then tried to wave them down.
Not one of them stopped for me. I couldn’t tell if it was because they knew they couldn’t help me or they were just in a rush, but no one could know what I needed help with; the slashed tires were on the other side of the vehicle, facing away from the road. Maybe they could just see how the car was leaning to the right side as they drove by.
The rush of traffic ended and I still couldn’t get anyone to help me, so I just leaned against the car and waited.
Hopefully, someone will notice me standing here and stop to check if I’m okay…
The universe must have been listening, ready to answer my prayers—for once—because two minutes later, a red pickup truck, a 2008 Chevrolet Silverado, pulled over in front of my car. My eyes widened. Oh, thank god; someone stopped!
I watched as the perfect picture of tall, dark and handsome strolled over to me. His skin was glistening with sweat on that hot, summer day, and he wore a fitted, white t-shirt and low hanging, tattered blue jeans with combat boots. He was extremely muscular and I couldn’t help but ogle his strong biceps, which were straining the arms of his tee. For some reason, he looked extremely familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on where I would know him from.
But I most certainly knew I wanted to lay a finger on him.
“Are you okay?” he asked, walking over to me after closing the door to his truck. “Your car looks a bit lopsided.”
His mouth spread into a grin, revealing a friendly smile and his voice was like molasses, deep and smooth. I almost melted on the spot.
“My right tires…Some scrap metal…” I struggled to formulate a coherent sentence, but he didn’t seem to mind. He walked around me to inspect the damage on the other side of the car. I followed behind him to be welcomed by the sight of his nice, firm ass just barely hidden beneath the waist of his jeans. I licked my lips and tried to control myself.
What the he
ll is wrong with you, girl? You avoid men like the plague, and then this guy comes along and you’re wetting your panties. Get over yourself. I rolled my eyes inwardly. I wasn’t sure why I was so overtaken by this man, but there was something about him that sent a hot jolt of electricity right through my body.
And he was the only person to stop and try to help me.
“Yeah, these are done. Lucky for you, I happen to have two fifteen-inch tires in the back of my pick up to help the locals in cases like these. I drive this truck for patrol and then the fire truck, when you know, there’s a fire.” He chuckled and shrugged, walking back to his truck.
He’s a firefighter? That’s so…sexy…My mind immediately went to him wearing an open fireman’s jacket with the pants and hat to match, going up to the fire truck and getting the hose, ready to wet me down. I almost started drooling before he started to speak again.
“We’ll need a jack to get these tires changed, so let me grab that as well.” He grunted as he hoisted up both tires and looped them onto his shoulders, then dropped each next to its respective flat. Sauntering back to the truck, he grabbed the jack and headed back to my car, where he knelt by my front tire first.
He placed the jack just under my car and began to crank it up. I watched the muscles of his forearm and biceps ripple as they moved back and forth with each pump of the handle, and I could feel myself getting wet. If his shirt had been just a smidge tighter, it would have surely ripped.
“So, you’re a firefighter, huh? Do you guys get fires in town often?”
“There is a town fire station, but I don’t work for them. I work for the park.”
Just then, I realized why he looked familiar: he was the guy with the light brown eyes that caught my attention in the NCPD-CID’s files. The picture had not done him justice, though; he was far more attractive in person.
I wonder if he knows what the shifter tag means…Not like I could show him, anyway.
When he finally had the car jacked up off the ground, he stood and inspected the tire’s lock nuts. My gaze shifted from him to the car and I wasn’t sure what he’d be doing next. I knew nothing about cars, so I certainly didn’t know the first thing about changing a tire.
“I’ll need a tire iron, so let me go grab that,” he said finally, heading back to his truck.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you had everything,” I giggled.
“Well, everything except the key to get these wheel locks off,” he laughed.
Wheel locks? “Wait, what are those?”
“People install them to help prevent theft of their rims and tires. Do you know where the key is?”
“I’m not sure, but let me check the glove compartment.” I headed into the car and fished around in the glove box; thankfully, I found a faded, opened package that read ‘McGard Cone Seat Lug Nut Wheel Locks’ with a small, metal object inside. “I guess we both lucked out on this one. It was in there!”
“Did you not put it there in the first place?” he chuckled.
“Nah, this car is a loaner from a friend. She’s just letting me borrow it while I visit Acadia.” I handed him the wheel lock key. Our fingertips brushed for a moment, and another electrical current of desire ran straight to my nether regions. I suppressed a shiver.
“Is that what brought you to the area? I knew I had never seen you around. I figured you were either new here or just visiting.”
If he had felt the current, too, he showed no sign of it. It was slightly disappointing, but to be honest, I was trying to cover it up as well.
“The latter. Just visiting. Acadia sounded beautiful, and I love hiking, so I thought I would come up and check it out.”
As he proceeded to loosen the wheel locks, the key broke off inside the nut. He nodded to the lifted car and laughed to himself. “Well, I think this is a sign that today might not be your day.”
“Then, what else should I do with my time?”
“Your car seems to think your time is better spent with me.” He flashed me another broad grin and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“My car sure knows how to pick ‘em! The guys with all the right parts, but no process,” I teased.
“Oh, really? Well, I guess I can’t argue much with that,” he laughed, grabbing his phone to search for tips on how to remove a tire with a broken wheel lock key stuck inside and scrolled through the results.
“Maybe you need two pairs of eyes.” I approached him and he tipped to the side, allowing me to read over his shoulder. I resisted the urge to rest my hand on his bicep as his thumb flicked over the screen. We searched for about ten minutes and didn’t find anything—even on YouTube—but I didn’t mind; as the sun rose higher in the sky, he began to sweat even more, and the scent of his body spray was intoxicating. I usually didn’t like them; I always thought they were too strong, but whatever scent he had, paired with his own, created a perfection that I could bask in all day.
“Alright. Since that was a bust, I’ll just have to wing it,” he shrugged. He grabbed the tire iron and a few other tools from his truck and went to work on the ‘lug nuts’ of the wheels—I learned that term from the few tutorials we just watched. He seemed to have to put his full body weight into loosening them, and for a few minutes there, it seemed like they would be nearly impossible to remove. But after about ten minutes—and a lot of sweat—he had managed to extract all of the nuts from the first wheel. He pulled the wheel off and replaced it with one from his truck, using the tire iron to screw the lug nuts back in; tightening them seemed almost as tough as removing them had been. He repeated this process on the other wheel, then lowered the jack and removed it, standing back to admire his handy work.
“You’ll probably need to go to the in-town mechanic to have them tighten those more with a power wrench because I wouldn’t trust my strength.” He rubbed the back of his head.
“Oh, you look plenty strong to me.” I winked with a laugh.
“Well, I wouldn’t want your wheels rolling off while you’re driving or something.” He chuckled.
I was extremely grateful for his help, and I wasn’t exactly sure what came over me, but I ended up throwing my arms around his delicious, sweat-drenched body. “Thank you so much for stopping to help me. I had been waiting for so long and tried waving people down, but no one would stop.”
“You’re welcome,” he said softly, returning the hug. When we pulled apart, our eyes met, and I thought he might kiss me, but instead, he smiled.
“You know, I didn’t catch your name. Mine is Andrew. Andrew Williams.” He reached out his hand for me to shake and I thought about the NCPD-CID.
Can I tell him my real name? I figured there was no harm.
“Nice to meet you, Andrew. My name is Kathleen Boland.” I shook his outstretched hand. “I can’t believe we went all that time without even introducing ourselves.”
“Yeah, do you usually hug strangers?” he teased.
“No!” I slapped his shoulder playfully.
“Do you go by Kathleen, or do you like Kathy? Most people call me Drew, for short.”
“I hate when people call me Kathy. Please don’t,” I spat, a little more irritated than I intended to sound, but I really despised the name. There used to be a girl in my foster home named Kathy and she would always pester me. Our foster parents would call us twins even though we looked nothing alike and weren’t even the same age. The name hosted a part of my teenage years that I’d preferred to forget.
“Anyway, I’d like to pay you back for this. Can I treat you to dinner tonight?”
I didn’t usually ask men out. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I had. Guys asked me on dates from time to time, but I always declined. I never had time for relationships or dating, but with this new government assignment, I figured that as long as I got the job done, I could do whatever I wanted.
“Hmm…I’ve never had a girl ask me out before. Or hug me without telling me her name first. You are full of surprises, aren’t you? Sent
from the heavens to test me.” He laughed.
“I guess so! Now, is that a yes, or a no? Don’t you know you aren’t supposed to keep a lady waiting?” I teased.
“Kathleen, I would love to go to dinner with you. I can’t promise I won’t try to pay anyway, though,” he warned playfully. “Why don’t you leave this amazing car of yours in the parking lot, and I can pick you up. You’ll probably want to have dinner in Bar Harbor, which is most likely closer to where you’re staying because I live on the park grounds. What hotel are you staying at?”
“The Holiday Inn.”
“Okay, how about we go to the Looking Glass. It’s pretty close to you. May I pick you up later tonight?”
“Okay, sure.” I smiled.
“Alright, then, great,” he grinned. “Well, I’m going to head off, and I’ll be by to pick you up at 7pm sharp.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Well, I definitely should get to work, I’m running pretty late and I’m honestly surprised my boss hasn’t called me yet.”
“Okay, Drew, I’ll see you tonight. And really, thanks again.”
“Anytime.”
I watched him walk back to his truck and sighed. He drove away, waving and I returned the gesture.
When I got back into the car, I thought about continuing on to the park and meeting the rest of Acadia’s staff. If all the guys looked as good as Drew did, I was going to have a hard time containing myself.
I almost went, but I was worried about something Drew had mentioned. He was most definitely strong, but what if he hadn’t been strong enough to tighten the lug nuts all the way? It dawned on me that I should probably go to the mechanic to get the car checked out as he suggested. I was already nervous enough to drive again, but once I made it there and had the lug nuts evaluated, I knew I would feel better. I would have to call Hanson to have him cover the expenses.
Oh shit! What am I going to wear on my date? I can’t just wear the crap stuffed in my friggin’ backpack… I really wanted to wow him. It had been a long time since I had gotten all dressed up and I owed it to myself to feel pretty at least one day out of the year. Well, they did ask me to get a nice outfit…
