Chapter Four #2
“No need. Get in, Wanda.” He climbed in and looked up at her. “Come on, girl. We’re burning daylight. We’ve got a bus to catch. Don’t worry about spilling. I’ll pay to have it cleaned if we need to. It’s just a car.”
“Just the most expensive car I’ve ever been this close to.”
“Are you getting in, or am I leaving you here?” Exasperation filled his voice.
“Fine. Fine. I’ll get in.” Gingerly, she set her bag on the floor, careful it didn’t tip over, even though none of the snacks were open. She picked up the two ball caps from her seat and settled herself into the plush, incredibly comfortable leather seat.
Eric said goodbye to the man, took one cap, adjusted it to fit, and put it on. “The hat will help keep your hair from tangling.” He nodded toward it. Dutifully, she put it on, made sure it fit snugly, and pulled it low onto her head.
“Buckle up.” He grinned, checked his surroundings, and backed out of the parking spot. “Good old Betty. I can always trust her to know just what I want. She’s irreplaceable.”
Seconds later, they were zooming down the highway, swerving between lanes and around other vehicles.
“Slow down! You’re scaring me,” she hollered above the sound of the wind racing past. She clamped her hand onto her hat to keep it from flying off. She pushed against the dash with her left hand, wishing she had something to hold onto.
He eased off the gas. “Sorry. Forgot myself for a minute there.”
A quick glance at the speedometer told her he was speeding, but not by much. She did not want to know how fast he had been going. With a sigh of relief, she relaxed into the seat as other cars zoomed by. Who drove that fast? Didn’t Eric know it was dangerous? Maybe he had a death wish.
They approached a gray van, and Eric shouted, “Point for me. I’m going to kick your butt again.”
“Right. I owe you for the food,” she raised her voice to be heard over the wind. He didn’t respond. Maybe he hadn’t heard her. Maybe he was just ignoring her. She’d pay him later because the snacks were hers and she carried her own weight. Always.
She stared out the windshield. Several fields were showing hints of green, while others had tractors and seeders planting spring crops. As they approached Innisfail, low clouds crowded out the late May sunshine. She huddled into her seat. Even with her jacket on, it was chilly.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea.”
He flipped on his signal light and pulled off onto a side road. “Let’s see if we can get a tour of the RCMP dog training facility.”
“What? You can’t just pull in and ask. Don’t you have to book things like that?”
He grinned. “Maybe. Maybe not. I figure it doesn’t hurt to ask.”
“How will we catch the bus if we keep stopping?”
“Come on, Wanda. We know the destination. Betty’s going to email me the exact location. Half an hour won’t hurt anything.”
“Fine.” She didn’t have much choice but to agree since he was driving, and secretly, she’d love a tour. Especially if they got to meet the dogs. She was definitely a dog person. The big bonus was that they’d slowed down, and with less wind, she was much warmer.
They pulled through an open, rolling gate, and a few yards later came to a stop in front of a small, nondescript building, clearly designed to be functional rather than attractive.
Eric popped out like a jack-in-the-box. “Come on, let’s go talk to them.”
Five minutes later, after talking to a pretty young receptionist whose nametag identified her as Lacy, they were set for a tour.
A Mountie and his dog escorted them around a training facility with jumps, tunnels, old vehicles, and small buildings.
The German Shepherd walked at his side without a leash.
“Does he always behave that well?”
Officer Davis laughed. “Rarely. When we’re out in public or going into a suspect situation, he’s on a short lead.
He’s well-trained, but control is important.
You wouldn’t believe how long it took me to get him to stop chasing squirrels and rabbits.
The training takes about two years. The last five months of which are with the handler.
In Hank’s case, that means me. Right, Hank?
” He ruffled the dog’s fur, and Hank panted ecstatically.
He gave the dog one last pat and said, “Okay, Hank. Run.”
Hank looked up, gave one quick yip, and took off running. He raced around the yard, doing loops. He ran up and over obstacles and climbed under vehicles. Two minutes later, he raced back, sniffed Eric and Wanda thoroughly, and sat, panting, at Officer Davis’s feet, grinning.
Back inside, Lacy handed them each a small bag.
“What’s this?” Wanda asked, peeking inside. “A coloring book?” She looked at the young woman. “Why?”
“We give them out to the kids when schools come to visit. A coloring book, a few crayons, and some RCMP stickers. It promotes safety and good officer-public relations.”
“Thank you.” Weirdly, she couldn’t wait to get home to color the safety book.
After another five minutes of chit-chat, they were back in the car. She reached over and clasped Eric’s arm. “Thank you. That was so much fun and informative, too. And I got a coloring book.” She giggled.
He glanced at her as he started the car. “You’re excited for coloring? Aren’t you an adult?” There was no censure in his voice, just curiosity.
“I am an adult, but I do love coloring. I probably have two dozen adult coloring books. Of course, being a gardener, my favorites are the nature ones, though my best friend prefers the Zen and mandala ones. Coloring is calming after a long day.” She was babbling.
She tried to stop, but the words just kept coming.
“I love a glass of wine, some old television reruns, or a movie, and my coloring book. I even have a special lap desk just for coloring. And my brother made me this really cool marker stand. It holds pencils, pencil crayons, and my alcohol markers right where I can get at them.”
She slapped her lips together to stop the flow of unwanted information. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”
“I wasn’t knocking it. I know a lot of people color for relaxation. I’ll have to try it.” He shifted in his seat. “Top up, or top down? It isn’t as sunny as it was.”
“Oh, top up please. It’s cold in the shade of the clouds.”
He put the top up and turned on the radio. Ride came on. “That’s appropriate,” Eric said. “I am your ride.”
“I don’t think that’s what the song means. It’s actually quite touching; it’s about supporting another person fully.”
He raised one eyebrow.
She stopped talking and crossed her arms. She loved the song and wasn’t about to let his attitude stop her from enjoying it. “Are you driving or what? We have a bus to catch.”
He saluted, his brown eyes sparkling as he shoulder-checked before backing out and heading toward the highway.
She hummed quietly with the song, a little unsure about singing in public because she didn’t have the best voice. Abruptly deciding that it didn’t matter, she started singing louder and louder until she was full-out rocking to the song and dancing in her seat.
What did it matter? She’d worked for this man for three years and hadn’t seen him even once. After this trip, she’d likely never see him again.