Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
ALENA
“Carter, go check North Mills. A visitor came in, said they’d reserved site six, but someone’s already camped in it. And Allen?”
I look up from my desktop, casting my stare across a landscape of wooden desks, mobile radios, and insulated water bottles, to answer our head ranger, “Yes, sir?”
Paul is a work daddy. Married with two daughters, and usually, I think he’s sweet. He treats me with respect, though sometimes, he tries to protect me too much, and the other rangers give me shit for it.
Maybe I’m too sensitive because of my dad. His overprotectiveness is overbearing.
Or maybe it infantilizes me, like most women. It robs me of my power, assuming I can’t protect myself.
“Take Waring to Davidson River,” Paul orders. “We had reports of campers getting rowdy until three a.m.”
“Yes, sir.”
Grabbing my keys, I nod at Loch, who’s tugging on his dark-green baseball cap. It’s weird seeing him in a ranger uniform this morning.
Maybe it’s because he fills his out more than any man in the station. Maybe it’s because my imagination was filled with images of him wearing nothing at all last night. My body heats with the memory.
“Hey, Waring!” Carter calls out to Loch. “Enjoy your personal tour with Allen.”
Fuck, Carter. He’s one of the dudes, a pervy one who makes jokes about me. My whole life, I’ve dealt with his kind.
“Oh, is this personal?” Loch gestures between himself and Carter, and I swear, Loch’s puffing up his massive chest too. He’s the biggest man in the ranger’s station.
“Uh, no man.” Carter backs down, slumping in his office chair. “Just uh… welcome to your first day.”
“Hey, Carter?” I shoot him a smile over every man’s head in the room.
“Yeah, Allen?” He smirks back, sipping his coffee like he’s got game.
“You know, I envy anyone who hasn’t met you yet.”
It takes Carter too long to figure it out, while I aim for the door, and the rest of the rangers burst out laughing, including Loch.
“Fuck him,” I rumble, climbing into a park SUV.
“Think that’s his goal.” Loch jumps into the passenger seat. “That and my call to HR if he keeps that shit up. Makes all of us uncomfortable.”
A waft of Loch’s woodsy soap lures me like a doe in heat. Tempted. Trusting. Tail flagging. Damn, I’m not used to being attracted to the men I work with. But with Loch?
“So, you’re one of the good ones? You’re against sexual harassment?”
“If you met my mom”—he buckles his seat belt—“you’d understand why I respect women.”
Pulling out of the ranger station, I’m driving down Hypocrite Highway because all I can think about is how I moaned Loch’s name last night. How I didn’t know I could orgasm that hard. Work rules evaporated with the glow I felt, falling asleep with his name on my lips.
“Ahem.” I blush. “So, is this the part where we get to know each other?”
His husky voice teases, “Or I can just stare at the pretty scenery.”
He can’t mean me?
I glance over.
Nope, he’s staring at the lush forest.
See? I don’t know how to do this flirting thing, and it’s for the best. This is work. No flirting allowed, so I talk shop. I can do that all day.
“Most of the time,” I explain, “campers manage themselves. But rowdy ones can cause a situation. Or worse. A retaliation.”
“A retaliation?”
“Yeah. A week ago, some yahoos raised hell until way past midnight. They didn’t follow camping etiquette, so the other campers woke them up at six a.m. by blasting ‘Who Let the Dogs Out’ on portable speakers.”
Loch chuckles, “Serves ’em right.”
“Yeah. But if they keep that shit up, it’ll be ‘Who Brought Their Guns Out.’”
Out of the corner of my eye, Loch mimics the song, barking, “Woof! Woof, woof, woof!” Dancing in his seat, he’s even pumping his fist.
He’s so goddamn goofy and hot, I laugh so hard, I get a tingle from my scalp to my toes. I almost pee my uniform pants.
Why do I suspect this man will soak them one day?
After we check the guilty campsite, finding the obnoxious campers long gone, the rest of the morning is fun with him. When I collect a soil sample, measuring for moisture and wildfire risk, his eyes don’t glaze over, bored.
He asks questions—lots of them.
For hours, I forget his sex appeal. It’s a scientific attraction. We both love nature. We see molecules and mountains.
Usually, rangers patrol alone. There are too many miles to cover and not enough staff. And I like being alone, but I’m loving Loch’s company more.
When it’s lunchtime, I risk, “Wanna see some waterfalls? It’s where most of the rescues happen.”
He pats the pockets on his khaki shirt that’s about to burst at the seams; his pecs are so big. “Sure, but my lunch is at the station.” It’s cute, like he forgot to pack his sandwiches there.
“It’s okay.” I nod toward the back seat. “I always pack two sandwiches for lunch.”
“Hell, yeah,” he crows. “She’s coming in hot with a PB&J for me.”
“Turkey and Swiss with mustard.” I grin. “I have standards.”
He winks. “You have a new best friend.”
Friend?
That’s not what I was picturing last night.
Finally, I had a sexy face to pair with the huge, manly member that’s captured my imagination for years. I didn’t need to go online and replay one of @LuvPounder’s OnlyFans videos. I had a real name to moan, a real man to want.
Loch: my real-life fantasy.
Is it sexual harassment if the sex is all in your head? Am I going to feminist jail for wanting an exemption from the rules I support?
With burning cheeks, I park the SUV before we sling on our packs and start the mile hike to the falls. I gesture for him to lead at the trailhead. It’s not like I’m deferring to a man, I just don’t want a hot one staring at my ass for an hour.
Usually, I’m too focused on my job or the breathtaking park. Nature lets you forget yourself.
But with Loch, our laughter is too natural. He’s giving me sensations, radiating from my smile to my sex, and it’s new. Intoxicating. Terrifying if I didn’t feel so safe with him.
I don’t get any stalker or dickish vibes from him. He’s truly being a friend.
Besides, the thirteen-year-old in me suspects a man like him goes for a blonde shortie who’s all snatched and skinny with perfect boobs and makeup and knows how to do contouring and shit.
I mean, I don’t even paint my nails. I couldn’t scrub the dirt out from under them if I did.
Loch calls over his shoulder, “So, is this your favorite spot? Moore Cove Falls?”
“One of them. This and Looking Glass. But Black Balsam Knob is my favorite.”
This and the view I inadvertently have of your ass. Didn’t plan it this way, but peaches are taking notes.
I try to refocus, “The falls are usually too crowded though. Summer. Fall. All year really.” It’s work, Alena. Not his ass. Work. “Our waterfalls are one of the most romantic spots and—”
Great. But you just said that.
Clearly, Kitty is leading this conversation, not my brain. Ironic because neither is good at this.
“Romantic?” He keeps hiking, deftly navigating tree roots. “Like proposals and stuff?”
“Yeah.” I jump a puddle. “Photographers will even set it up for you.”
You?
Yep, just said that too. Nothing to see here, folks. Just a woman losing every shred of her dignity.
Change the subject.
I glance into the dense canopy, blurting the first thing to cover my tracks, “You’ll even see mating up here. I mean, uh—”
I gulp. Not to that!
I meant animals—deer, bears—not people. But we’re animals too. Obviously, because I’m so feral for this man, I’m choking on my spit.
He whips around. “You okay?”
I nod. I can’t breathe, but I nod.
“Need the Heimlich?”
I give a thumbs up, eyeballs bulging, face turning fifty shades of red, but I’m fine.
Totally fine.
He smirks. “You take the state law about no public mating very seriously.”
I roll my crying eyes.
He steps toward me, “You sure you’re—” but a two-foot garter snake quickly darts across the trail, right by his boots, and…
Loch squeals.
Jumping back, hitting a G7 note, he throws his massive hands in the air, with a jazz dance for the harmless reptile.
The snake wriggles away, but he’s still standing there, hands up.
“Did you just…” Cough. Cough. “Did you just squeal?”
His face falls with his hands. “No.”
“Uh, yeah, you did.”
He shrugs a shoulder, looking away. “No, I didn’t.”
“Yeah, you did, and…” I grab a breath. “You did jazz hands.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He won’t look at me.
“You’re a big forest ranger…” Cough. “Who’s afraid of—” Cough. Giggle. Giggle. “Of little snakes?”
He shrugs, blushing. “Could’ve been a rattler.”
“Yeah, and it would’ve rattled.” I grab my stomach, giggles cramping into laughter. “Though you sure broke glass and auditioned for Chicago.”
I double over, howling, wishing I had been phones-up for that. It’d be a meme. Loch—all six feet six inches and at least two hundred and fifty pounds of pure manly muscle—dancing like a screaming Roxie Hart over a tiny snake, and… oh shit…
I grab my crotch.
His eyes get big. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you gonna pee?”
“No.”
“Yeah, you are.” He grins. “You’re laughing so hard at me, you’re gonna piss your pants.”
“No, I’m not.”
Yes, I am. I rush into the woods, following the snake. He’s the least of my concerns. I make it twelve feet before dropping trou behind a giant hemlock tree.
“It’s our little secret, Allen!” Loch drowns out the sound of my splatter. “My squeal for your pee. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Does this mean we’re best friends now?”
No.
This means I’m starting to fall for you.
When I park in front of my cabin after the best worst day of my life, I bang my head on the steering wheel.
Loch was perfect about the whole piddle-in-my-pants thing. In fact, he was perfect all day. Professional and funny, never a perv or a dick.
Nope, that’d be me.
“Because I really want his dick,” I whine to no one but his truck, parking beside mine. “Great, God,” I mutter, “just pile it on.”
I make it to my cabin door before, “Hey, Alena?”
My heart pounds, loving the sound of my name in Loch’s husky voice way too much.