Chapter 5 #3
I scrunch my nose at Noah’s voice, annoyed. I said I’d be right back.
“You know him?” Mitch asks, brows furrowed.
I nod and regard Noah, who of course, fills the small diner with his entire presence of authority. A few tourists beam at the national park ranger standing in their midst. As if they aren’t a dime a dozen around these parts.
But …
I inspect Noah while I chew my stubby thumbnail. A muscle feathers in his jaw.
Perhaps rangers like Noah are a rarity. Purely in looks, that is. They’re all a bunch of demanding, prideful—
“I’m taking Ms. Parker back to her car. Tried to convince her to go home, but she refuses.”
Mitch raises his eyebrows at me, and I scowl. No, I didn’t mention I don’t have a home to Noah. Why would I? He’s a passing stranger.
Overhead, the neon menu board hums and I study the menu I’ve had memorized since my first day here three months ago. There’s a breakfast burrito filled with egg, cheese, and mushrooms.
I hold up four fingers. “Number four, Mitch. Thanks.”
“Give me just a second,” he says.
I turn, expecting to find Noah there, but he’s already moved down the counter, across from the antique salt and pepper shakers that Mitch has an affinity for collecting. Kind of like my grandmother and her gnomes.
Noah laughs, engaged with the older gentleman.
His broad shoulders lean against the counter.
He’s rolled up his uniform sleeves to show off his tanned forearms. They flex in the rising sun filtering through the windows, and he reaches up to remove his hat before rubbing a hand over his tightly shaved head.
The easy grin. The annoying yet perfect stance. Damn town should plaster him on a postcard. Tourists would flock here.
He chuckles again, offering a gentle slap to the older man’s shoulder. As if sensing my stare, he looks over, and his smile softens.
For a split second, there’s an odd flutter in my belly accompanied by that warmth that melted away when he left my hospital room. Something … comfortable.
Stupid.
Mitch pops up in my peripheral, hand extended with the white paper bag. I take it, smelling the deliciousness seeping from the inside. He slides the to-go cup across the counter toward me.
“So he’s—”
“No one.”
Mitch holds up his hands, like he’s calming the storm in me before it starts. “Hey, was just asking. Gotta make sure my favorite employee is okay.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll be in for my next shift. Don’t give it away.”
“Sorry about that.” Noah snatches the cup off the counter. “What do I owe you?”
Mitch shakes his head. “It’s on the house. I’ll see you soon, Lily.”
“Thanks, man.”
Noah may say something else, but I push off the counter and head out the door to the truck. I climb in with enough time to watch Noah exit the diner. He repositions his hat on his head and dons his aviator sunglasses.
I squeeze the paper bag in my hand. For the safety of my pride and the off chance that Max decides to dive into the front seat and tear me to pieces for my burrito, I tuck the bag on the floorboard to save for later.
When Noah gets in, he sips his coffee and pulls the cup away with a surprised look on his face. “Pretty good.”
“Yep. Mitch has the coffee down,” I say, folding my arms across my front. I’m waiting for Ranger Ralph to comment on my undone seat belt, but he says nothing.
“Not going to eat?” Noah asks, backing out of the parking space.
I shake my head, gesturing toward Max, who licks his lips.
Noah chuckles in a way that reminds me of gooey marshmallow. “He knows better. Feel free to eat if you want. Max, platz.” Max lies down. “Braver Hund.”
“Impressive,” I deadpan, ignoring my food.
“Nah. I secretly bribe him with treats.”
I slowly nod, knowing he’s kidding but wondering why he feels the need to act casual with me. I’m not a warm and fuzzy person. My chronic sour face helps keep people from approaching me, which isn’t the greatest for my tips at the diner, but the barrier keeps me safe.
I don’t want to be approachable. Unfortunately, this rent-a-cop doesn’t get the message.
The rest of the ride to my car is silent besides the loud panting of Max in the back seat and the occasional dispatch call on the radio attached to Noah’s truck.
When we arrive at the trailhead, memories hit me of the violent storm and the electric jolt of panic that stretched out just long enough for me to realize I was slipping—my heart skipped, my stomach plummeted, and a sickening dread washed over me right before everything went dark.
Helplessness muddled with fear shocks me as the gut-wrenching events of yesterday crash over me.
I freeze, my hand on the handle of the passenger door. Reckless. Not returning to my car was reckless—would anyone have found me if there hadn’t been other people on the trail?
No. I’m not approachable, but I know deep down I owe my life to Noah. Even the other couple who stayed with me and waited for a response.
So while the past several years have hardened the girl I used to be, have twisted, shamed, and crushed my free spirit into infuriating torment, I know things could’ve been worse. Much worse.
“Thank you,” I whisper, unable to meet Noah’s gaze.
“Sure thing. You sure I can’t take you home? I’ll get your car there, too.”
“No. I mean … for yesterday. I, um …”
Noah gives me a sympathetic look and a small smile. “Just doing my job, Ms. Parker.”
“It’s Lily.” I jump out of the truck without looking back.