“Oh hey, speaking of washing…” I turn to my equipment bag and throw my wallet inside. “When are you doing laundry next?”
She doesn’t look up but increases the speed of the whisk. “I did some yesterday.”
“Well, I’ve still got a pile of dirties by the bedroom door.”
“Yeah, I know, and it’s starting to stink. You should take care of that.” Molly taps some excess brownie batter off the whisk on the edge of the bowl without looking at me.
“You mean— – Never mind.” I stop before I expose myself for being a spoiled brat who’s had a housekeeper washing his boxer briefs all this time. “I’ll see you later,” I mumble, grabbing my bag and heading for the door.
“Bye,” she calls, her voice light as the air it follows me on.
We’ve established a decent rhythm, Molly and I. Though neither of us seems to be ready for any kissing or touching since the reception, we’ve gotten comfortable in each other’s space.
Work goes about as expected. I dodge stupid-ass prying questions from my brothers, meet with the Tribal officials at the boundary line to make sure they didn’t have any problems overnight, and patrol through the woods, mostly on foot. The world is so fucking loud except for my haven between the trees. My thoughts are still racing around my head, but with no other sounds but the breeze and the birds, I can actually hear them, deal with them.
At the end of shift, I check in at the office on our family compound before heading to Beth’s Diner to finish up paperwork on my phone. The bell jingles like a familiar greeting when I push through the door and head straight for the open seat at the far end of the counter.
“Hey, Wolf.” Darcie says without looking up from setting a customer’s tuna melt in front of them while grabbing a straw from her apron.
I give her a chin jut she can’t see, but she knows I did it all the same. This isn’t the same as the bar where people want to get rowdy and hit on each other. The diner actually has a calming effect, and no one usually bothers me as I update data on our official park apps.
I pull my phone from my back pocket and bring up my TrackDuty app as Darcie sets a mug down without asking and pours a cascade of the local brew into it. The steam is a comfort to me, like a reliable touchstone as I scroll through the report page to see if there were any disturbances, wildlife abnormalities, or arrests.
My eyes are glued to my screen, and I barely note the presence taking the seat beside me as I switch over to the forecast column for tomorrow. The faint lilt of a woman’s voicesounds, followed by Darcie’s consoling tone, saying they don’t serve cappuccinos. Definitely a tourist. Right down to the strong perfume that screams pretentious sophistication in your face.
I search for any reports on more of those bogus foothold traps like the one that got Finn but find no other developments. Moving on, I get lost in a report about Riley Development reps scoping out nearby parcels of land having to be escorted off the reservation for trying—and apparently failing—to steal soil samples and take pictures of the nearby creek.
Get the fucking message already.
My blood is already boiling about this fucking situation when someone primly clears their throat and follows it with a chipper and breathy “Hi.”
“Afternoon,” I grunt without looking up.
I hear nothing else besides a little fidgeting as I tap my empty mug, signaling to Darcie I’m ready for my refill. Then the person clears their throat again. It’s already annoying.
“Could you tell me where I can get a good lavender latte around here?” the woman next to me asks.
I lift a shoulder as I switch over to the TribalScope app to dictate my outgoing shift report. “There’s an espresso stand about half a mile east that will probably have what you’re looking for.”
“Oh,” she responds, soft and absent. She’ll hopefully be taking my patent hint any moment.
I’ve had plenty of tourists approach me—usually of the lady variety—but my caveman grunts and lack of eye contact are enough to send the message to move on. If they want to socialize, there’s plenty of bars down this stretch of road.
“I take it you live here?”
Or she’s a chatty pain in the ass. “Yeah,” is all I offer as my cup gets refilled.
“Oh great!” she exclaims. “I’m actually from out of town…”
No shit. I let out a sigh as I pocket my phone. There goes my afternoon wind down.
“... was just here to escape for a few days and was hoping to find someone who could show me where all the great hiking trails are!”
“On your tab today, warden?” Darcie asks as she does a drive by.
I tilt my chin in her direction again and take another chug of coffee, hoping to finish it up. By the way the brew scalds my throat, I’m stuck here for at least another couple of minutes.
“Warden?” Little Miss Sunshine asks brightly, sounding intrigued. “Is that your name?”
