by Zoe York
“That’s great, thank you.” Tom crossed the room and picked up a backpack, stuffed to the brim. “Tonight we’re going to go over gear. I’ll cover what’s in the pack, and then Will can go over tips and tricks for clothing.”
Catie pulled out her phone and took notes on that as Tom started to pull items out and explain them. Some made sense—a survival blanket which doubled as a shelter, extra socks and toques, a fire starting kit, and a GPS locator beacon—but some were real surprises to her, like a handheld saw, which Tom said very matter-of-factly was great for patient extraction.
From the side of the pack, he held up a small notebook just like the one Will had his notes in, and explained—as Catie scribbled yet another note in her phone—that technology couldn’t be relied on and batteries drained, but paper and pencil were pretty reliable.
She made a note to stock up on both.
“And now, we’ll talk clothing.”
Will stepped forward and picked up the backpack. “Our first clue about what works best in clothing actually comes from this pack. We highly recommend this particular brand because of the colour of the rain cover on it.” He unfurled it, a bright blue flutter of nylon. “In addition to keeping your bag and its contents dry while you’re on the move, this cover also makes it easy for your teammates to keep track of you in the brush.”
He showed them the helmets they would wear on searches, complete with zebra lights, and the different kind of flashlights they also recommended.
“So we can make ourselves visible like this, but the easiest way is to be dressed for visibility when you leave the house to respond to a page. No camouflage clothes. No all black. We’re the opposite of tactical gear here. We love bright clothes, brightly coloured gear.” Even though he wasn’t wearing that himself—and nobody was, really, because this was a classroom training night—Catie still felt like he was making a pointed comment about her outfit, which was basic black from head to toe.
She’d worn a bright pink blazer over it all day, she wanted to protest. But she’d taken it off when she visited Frank, and then left it in the car, because her cheeriest real estate agent outfit hadn’t seemed appropriate for SAR.
If he wanted bright, next week she would give him bright. Next week, she’d come dressed in Day-Glo orange and glittery clown shoes.
Will handed over the floor back to Tom. “The last thing we want to do today is get everyone’s contact information updated. Once you’re a fully trained member of the team, you’ll get a pager to wear twenty-four/seven, but until then, if there’s a search we can safely bring trainees on, you’ll get a text message or a call from a teammate. So make sure everyone’s name and number is in your phone, so you don’t ignore any important calls. Got it?”
There was a chorus of got it, then the noise settled down to a low hum as they took turns moving around the room, exchanging contact information with everyone.
“I’m Jeong Kim,” one of the other newcomers said. “Nice to meet you. I recognize you from the bachelor auction. My cousin Esther was one of the bachelors, so to speak?”
“Right! Nice to meet you. Catie Berton. My number…” And so it went, around the room.
The second last person she exchanged information with was Will. He didn’t even do any perfunctory introduction, not that any was needed.
Hi, I’m Will. You went to school with my brother, work across the street from my sister-in-law, and are a general pain in my ass.
So glad to be on a team with you, Will. I’m Catie. You might remember from such hits as Hey, you could be the MC, and Can I help with your school thing? I remember the stone cold radio silence to both requests. Awkward, huh?
But they didn’t say any of that. Instead, she nodded at his phone, and when he jerked his chin in acknowledgement, she rhymed off her phone number. She noticed he put it in his address book as Catie SAR, so she did the same when she created a contact profile for him.
Will SAR.
But as soon as he headed for the door, his long legs getting him away from her as soon as humanly possible, she changed that to Mr. Grumpy.
Which Lore saw as she pulled alongside. “Who got that name, Will Kincaid?”
“It’s a long story.”
“You think he’s grumpy?”
The truth would invite more curiosity, which Catie didn’t want. She waved her hand. “It’s kind of a joke, really.” She changed the name back on her screen. “See? It’s all good. Can’t wait for next week. This is going to be great.”
Chapter Four
A week later, Will made sure to arrive ten minutes early for training.
He was surprised Catie beat him there. She was waiting outside the training building, which was still locked. For at least the moment, they were alone.
Maybe he could kill a few minutes doing something in his truck. Except as soon as he turned it off, she looked his way.
She’d been typing something into her phone, but now she slipped that into a bright pink running belt around her waist. She was also wearing neon-yellow running pants and a teal long-sleeved tech shirt. Someone had done her reading on the gear, although the skin-tight pants had a noticeable lack of pockets.
Not that Will was trying to notice anything about Catie’s lower body.
He was, in fact, trying not to notice the way she looked in those pants—fucking hot—and instead tried to assess her as a new colleague. Eager, enthusiastic.
Sharply critical of everything he did. Well, there was that, too. It wouldn’t be long before she tried to take over SAR, but unlike everything else she shoved her bossy little fingers into, the SAR was properly managed by Tom.
And it was Tom’s leadership that had brought Catie into yet another part of Will’s life, on his absolutely correct mission to recruit a more diverse crew.
So Will could not, would not complain, even to himself, about the presence of Catie’s brightly clad ass in front of him. Even if it annoyed him to his core, for reasons he knew were petty and wrong and beneath him.
He pushed open his truck door and climbed out.
She gave him a look, a curved eyebrow, that was part surprise and part sardonic critique of his choice to get out when it was only the two of them there. Why aren’t you waiting in your truck?
An excellent question.
“Nice to see you here early.” He had to force himself not to wince at the way it sounded. Absurdly judgmental.
“Same to you.” She said it like it wasn’t nice at all.
The barb hooked in his skin, making him advance on her, until he could see the bright blue flecks in her otherwise dark blue eyes. Until he noticed the little wisps of blond hair at her temple that couldn’t be tamed super flat and sleek like the rest of her bob.
He was tempted to tell her straight-irons didn’t work in the wilderness, a truly unnecessary thing to point out. For one thing, she definitely already knew that. For another, this was a training night, and she’d come from work, where straight irons definitely did work, because that was her whole job.
He cast about in his mind for a better, sharper critique. He couldn’t find one. So he grabbed onto sowing doubt, another jerk move he couldn’t stop himself from making. “You know, SAR is a big time commitment. There’s no shame in saying it’s too much at any point in the process.”
“I’m aware. I’ve been thinking about doing this for six months. I talked to Tom and did my research. I even trained with Isla, so I knew the physical side of it wouldn’t be too much.”
“You’ve just got a lot on your plate.”
“Pot, meet kettle. Kettle, this is Pot. His name is Will and he is a school principal, as well as being in the army reserve, the volunteer fire brigade and a Search and Rescue team member. Plus he has four brothers who, while all grown men, seem to—”
“Hey, leave my brothers out of it. And I quit the volunteer fire brigade when Adam became a full-time firefighter.” He frowned. “Point taken, though.”
“I hadn’t even gotten to the
point, yet.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You owe me an email.”
Oh. That. “About the business club.”
“Yes.”
“Speaking of having too many things on one’s plate.”
“It’s not until the fall, when this weekly training will be over. And isn’t my schedule mine to worry about? Look, if you don’t want me to do it, just have the balls to say that.”
“It’s not—” Could he handle having her in his school every single week? Could he admit that he wasn’t sure he could? “Right now, we’re focused on the end of this school year. We won’t be making a decision about the business club until the middle of the summer.”
“That’s not what January said.” Catie’s face practically lit up as Will felt himself scowl.
January was—
Just doing her job.
Before he could reply, two more vehicles arrived, and they were no longer alone. Negotiating this awkward tension with Catie was hard enough when it was just the two of them, he didn’t want to do it in front of an audience, so he drifted off to speak to Jeong, and she went back to her phone, one bright yellow leg crossed over the other, her chin set at a determined angle.
Once they were seated around the circle, Tom asked everyone to share their progress on their gear checklists: what they had found they already owned, and what they had put on their to-acquire list. It was each person’s responsibility to kit themselves, but the SAR had loaner items to fill the gaps during training.
Catie proudly shared that she’d already ordered the recommended backpack with the bright blue rain cover, and she looked pointedly at Will when she mentioned the colour. He tried not to roll his eyes.
“And you’re setting a great example for the brightly coloured clothing,” Tom said cheerfully.
Catie beamed.
This time, he definitely failed in his efforts to stop the eye-roll.
Tom pointed to the whiteboard, where a list of their training objectives was posted. “All right, I think it’s time we head outside. We’ll pair up for a training exercise.”
From across the room, Lore gave Catie a conspiratorial smile, and the two of them headed outside together.
Will trailed behind, watching the yellow leggings, and the pink running belt, and the straight-ironed hair that swished perfectly against her shoulders.
“All right, so the seven events in the competition are as follows: ground search technique; rescue mission planning; team communication—and this one is about radio comms; equipment test, so this will be a hike out and then needing to use what we have in our bags; rope rescue; carry out; and first aid. Today we’re going to work on two of these. I’ll split you into pairs, and you’ll be given either a rescue mission planning assignment, or a radio comms script. For the latter, it’s basically about memorizing the standard comms language. For the first one, there’s an order of operations, but it’s also about taking your time. So we’ll want to pair up, new trainees with veteran team members, and then I’ll hand out the practice cards.”
The group rearranged itself, and since Will was at the back, the pairing up happened in front of him. The two last newbies were Lore and Catie, and as Catie realized who their options were, she looked Will up and down, then shoved Lore in the direction of Yolanda Clarke.
“Looks like it’s you and me, Kincaid,” Catie said a little too brightly.
If he had said it, it would have been an overture. It should have been him who said, “Well, Berton, I guess we're left.”
No, he should have welcomed her first. Before anyone else paired up, he should have said, “Hey, Catie. Do you want to practice with me?”
That would have been an overture, a gesture of good faith.
Accepting her challenging dare when there was no other choice was hardly the same.
Somewhere along the way, he and Catie had lost the kindness that was the core of what being a good, upstanding citizen of Pine Harbour meant. And Will prided himself on being a good, upstanding citizen. It was the driving force of his life. It was the lesson his father had taught him. It was the example he set for his brothers. And with one single exception, he had done it his whole adult life.
With everyone except for Catie.
That had to stop now.
“Sounds like a plan,” he said gruffly. It sounded resentful, even to his own ears.
Will was a pill, even when he was trying to be nice. Nice-ish. That’s all he could manage to be around her. By the end of the training night, Catie considered re-naming him Will the Pill in her phone, but with her luck, someone would see it and it would get back to him.
So when training finally ended, she didn’t head straight home. Instead, she went to the diner, the only place she could get a slice of Isla’s pie at this hour. Even though she’d worked all day, she was vibrating with a tired kind of energy, too.
Pour some sugar on these weird feelings. That’s almost certainly going to help. She ignored that sensible self-talk, and pulled into the gravel lot.
She parked next to Frank’s car—the same car he had been driving for fifteen years—and went inside.
Her former boss was in his usual spot in the kitchen, visible through the pass-through window. She waved, then joined two familiar looking faces at the counter. Bailey Patel and Kerry Humphrey both played soccer with Lore, and Catie had gotten to know them both through that social group. Bailey also worked part-time at Isla’s bakery, and Kerry was married to Will’s older brother, Owen.
Small town life to the max.
Six degrees of Kincaids, and most of the time you never made it past one degree of separation.
Catie slid onto the stool next to Bailey. “What are you guys doing here so late?”
Kerry patted her pregnant belly. “Owen is working tonight, I’m on call, and baby wanted French fries.”
Bailey grinned. “I wanted French fries, too, so I’m keeping her company.”
“She’s telling me about her plans to take over the world.”
The waitress came over, an apology written all over her face. “I'm sorry, hon. The kitchen’s closed, but we've got some pie.”
Through the pass-through window, Frank barked a correction. “The kitchen’s never closed for Catie.”
She appreciated the offer, but she waved him off. “I actually came here for a slice of whatever is left.”
“It’s rhubarb custard.”
“Oh my God, yes. Perfect.” And she nodded to the coffee carafe behind the waitress, the one with the blue handle, which had indicated it was decaf since before she was a waitress here back in her teens. “I’ll take a cup of that, too.”
“Long day?” asked Bailey.
“Managing fragile personalities is a lot.” Catie hadn't intended to confess anything to her friends, especially not Kerry. But she didn't need to get specific. Generalities were more than sufficient for venting her frustration.
Kerry’s pager went off, though, a small gift from the universe, and the midwife excused herself, leaving Catie and Bailey alone at the counter.
“Tell me about your world domination plans.”
“Actually, they require your help.” Bailey’s eyes sparkled. “What do you know about the motel behind the marina?”
“It’s abandoned.” Catie accepted the steaming cup of coffee from the waitress and added cream and sugar. She took a long, restorative sip before continuing. “It hasn’t been listed for sale in the three years I’ve been here. I can look up the property history when I get home. Are you interested in buying it?”
“My cousin is looking for an investment property. Boutique motels are popping up all over, it feels like a good trend to get ahead of, and I’ve studied the vacancy rates at other motels on the peninsula—they’re all doing just fine, even without significant online presence. That’s where the right team could have a huge advantage.”
“I like it. Very exciting. I’ll get you some numbers in a couple of days and we can talk strategy for approaching the curren
t owner with an offer.”
“Thank you.” Bailey pointed a fry at her. “Now, your turn. Who is the fragile personality today?”
“I shouldn’t say.”
“I swear it won’t leave this counter.”
“You promise?” Catie took a deep breath. “I have this ongoing…thing. A feud, you might call it, except it’s more subtle than that. It actually sounds silly to say out loud, but I keep bumping heads with Will Kincaid via email, and now it’s super awkward in person.”
Bailey made the same face Lore had made, disbelief mixed with confusion. “Really?”
“I know, it’s weird, right? He has the nicest reputation. Literally everyone loves him. And then with me he’s a grumpy ogre. Like he’s mad I walked over his bridge or something.” She stabbed at her pie, which didn’t deserve the aggression. It was a very good pie.
“What were the emails about?”
“He wanted to insert himself into the bachelor auction. I wanted to improve the way kids from the school cleaned windows. He ruined my singing telegram fundraiser by doing it with cuter, smaller telegrams.”
“Kids?”
“His ace in the hole.” Catie groaned as Bailey laughed. “I know, it all sounds so terribly petty, doesn’t it? And now I’ve joined the Search and Rescue team, which he is on, and tonight we were partners. It was, once again, petty and awkward. It’s like we’ve both lost the ability to be reasonable grown-ups.”
“Did you know he was on the team when you joined?”
“Yes.” Catie made a face and stabbed her pie again. Sorry, pie. She ate the last bite with more tenderness, savouring the creamy and tart combination before offering what she knew sounded like a weak explanation. “They needed women.”
“Ah.”
“What, ah?”
“You just can’t resist a good cause,” Bailey said.
“She’s right,” Frank yelled from the kitchen.
Catie pushed her plate away. They weren’t wrong. “So I need to find a way to smooth things over, but I’m not going to pretend like I started this. I didn’t. That’s on him.”
