Chapter 9
“The unique smell before a rainstorm is really a thing. It’s called petrichor.”
—It’s science
Iris
Hector’s property was idyllic.
He lived on the west side of Lake Echo in the town of Thunder Cove.
To get to his house, we had driven through the Arroyo Wash, which was one of my favorite spots.
It was a little oasis in the desert—literally.
It was a wetland area filled with greenery and foliage that you didn’t often see in arid regions.
And on the few times it did rain, this place became full of color.
Thunder Cove was a great area, but since a lot of it was actually under the jurisdiction of Lake Echo National Park, there were very few houses allowed there.
“I don’t see any other houses nearby,” I mentioned as we got out of the car and began walking up to his house. “How much property does it sit on?”
“Several dozen acres, though I’m not entirely sure,” he responded.
“It actually belongs to the Park Service and sits on their property. It was built about three decades ago for whoever was chief ranger so they could get to our home base quickly if needed but also provide some privacy if they had a family.”
That made sense and also explained why it was so remote yet had beautiful views.
I gasped as I looked around the side of the house. “You have a view of the lake!”
It was dark out now, but I could see the lights from the boats on the lake. I could only imagine how stunning the views were during the day, even though the lake appeared quite a ways away from the property.
I turned back to Hector and noticed he had my overnight bag in his hand—which I had forgotten to take out of the car in my excitement to explore his property.
“I can get that,” I told him, reaching out for the bag.
He pulled it away and walked toward the door. “I got it. Just brace yourself for my dog.”
Hector had a dog?
Before I could really even ponder that thought, the door swung open, and out burst a very energetic chocolate lab.
He sniffed Hector very quickly before realizing there was someone else—me. He took off at a sprint, even though I was only about thirty feet behind Hector, and crashed into my legs with his likely seventy-to-eighty-pound body.
Since I wasn’t fully prepared, I fell back onto my butt—thank God it was fully padded—and was immediately gifted copious amounts of dog licks and slobber kisses.
“Sarge, aus! Heir! Sitz!” Hector shouted in what sounded like a different language, or maybe I just had too much dog slobber in my ears and the words were muddled.
“Sarge, you’re a pain in my ass,” Hector grumbled at the same time he pulled the dog off me by his collar. “Sorry. He sucks at commands.”
Dog now restrained with his right hand—though barely since he was pulling to get back to me—Hector dropped my bag and stuck out his left hand to me to help me up.
“It’s okay. He’s very friendly,” I told him as I grabbed his hand.
His rough, calloused hand engulfed mine and sent shivers up through my entire arm. Though it was temporary, since, once I was up on my feet, he let me go in order to more fully restrain his dog.
“His name is Sarge?” I asked as I followed him to the front door.
“Yes, he’s a retired police K-9, which is where he got his name,” Hector answered as he parked Sarge by the front door and gave another command. “Sitz. Bleib.”
“What are you saying?”
“His training was in Germany, so that’s what most of his commands are in. I told him to sit and stay.”
Ahh, got it. Sarge whined as he stared at me, voicing how upset he was that he was not allowed to continue his kissing attack on me.
“Can I pet him?”
“Yes, but let me get your bag and we can head inside first.”
We all walked into Hector’s cabin, which was basic but beautiful from the outside but even more impressive when you walked inside.
It was a single-story ranch with high ceilings and large wooden beams. The cozy cabin featured a rustic but clean interior. It wasn’t huge, but it had an open-concept kitchen, dining, and living room.
The first thing I noticed about the living room was the amazing stone fireplace and large leather couches and recliner that looked like you could just sink right into them.
“Sarge, bleib,” Hector commanded, causing the dog to whine some more, but he stayed put. “Follow me, and I’ll give you the ten-second tour.”
We walked down the hallway, where we passed a small laundry room, a guest bath, and two smaller bedrooms, one of which was being used as a workout room.
“This is my guest room,” he said, indicating the other small bedroom as he set my bag down just inside the doorway.
I guess this was where I was going for the night.
“Thank you,” I told him.
“My bedroom and bath are down the hall if you need anything,” he said, and then he started to walk back in the direction from which we’d come.
I guess that was it for the tour. It was okay, though, because this was just for one night. I couldn’t stay here longer in this close proximity to Hector, or I might do something stupid—like jump his bones.
After putting my toiletry bag in the guest bath and freshening up a bit—since I hadn’t been able to do that at my place—I wandered back out into the living room. Hector was in the kitchen heating something up in the microwave.
“Did you have dinner yet?” he asked me.
My stomach chose that exact moment to give away all my secrets by gurgling. “No, not yet, but I’ll be okay.”
I didn’t want to feel like a mooch since he was already letting me stay here. Maybe I could get food delivered here.
“I have leftover chili I can heat up for you. Would you eat it?”
I nodded in response and then glanced over the kitchen counter to see Sarge sitting perfectly in the kitchen.
“He seems to be doing well with the commands now,” I noted.
“Only because he wants whatever I’m cooking,” Hector replied.
I smiled because I understood that. I would probably be the same if I were a dog.
“He seems awfully young to be a retired dog,” I pointed out.
“He’s young because he was forced into retirement early because he’s considered defective.”
“How is he considered defective? He looks fine to me.”
“He’s defective because he gets distracted by food. Case in point,” he said, nodding in Sarge’s direction. “Anytime we would attempt to have him chase a criminal or focus on a mission and someone would offer him a piece of cheese, he would get distracted and not complete his mission.”
“Same, Sarge. I feel your pain, buddy,” I said to him, not that he could understand me.
“Yeah, well, unfortunately in police work, that’s enough to get you fired from the canine program.”
“Really? That’s insane to me. Dorothy distracts us with snacks all the time at work, and they haven’t fired her or me,” I chuckled.
“Sarge,” I said, and his ears perked up at the sound of his name. “Maybe you need to come to work with me. You would be loved there, and we all get distracted by food.”
Hector just shook his head at me as if I was a little crazy, but I also didn’t miss the lip twitch as he grabbed the food out of the microwave and handed it to me.
“Here,” he said, handing me the bowl and nodding to the barstool next to me. “Have a seat.”
We ate in relative silence, at his counter while Sarge sat at our feet, hoping and praying something would fall down to him.
Uncomfortable with the silence I decided to ask him a question that had been burning in my mind since the day I interviewed him at Lake Echo.
“You don’t have to answer, but…at my sister’s wedding, you were still working for the LVPD. Now you’re a park ranger. Why the big change?”
He paused in eating his meal, and his jaw tightened before he finally stuck the spoonful of chili into his mouth.
I guess that nonanswer was my answer. Back to silence it was.
“After everything that went down on my last mission, I realized I wanted out,” he said quietly but still loud enough for me to hear him.
“Can I ask what happened?” I asked, not necessarily because I was nosy, but because I just wanted to get to know him better.
“While undercover I watched one of the guys we were targeting sell drugs to a teenager,” he shared.
“I knew I couldn’t intervene without blowing my cover but I could have found a way to call it in later, but I didn’t.
I got distracted by my target and didn’t get a chance to call it in for almost twenty-four hours. ”
He paused again and then sighed. “The drugs were apparently laced with fentanyl, and he didn’t make it. I still think about that kid often and how my slow response killed him.”
He wasn’t hiding the fact that this wasn’t easy to talk about, so I said nothing in response, letting him choose whether he wanted to keep talking about it or change the subject.
“So, I left. It’s actually not a hard transition because I was already a federal worker, had security clearance, and emergency response training and such. A buddy of mine was already working for the Park Service and told me about the chief ranger job, so I applied.”
“I’m happy for you,” I told him, and I was. If this job made him feel more at ease while still fulfilled, then I was glad he had it.
“What made you decide to become a meteorologist?” he asked.
“Honestly, it wasn’t some big epiphany. I was watching this documentary, and they explained how clouds aren’t actually fluffy—like they weigh tons.
Literal tons. And I thought, how does the sky even hold them all up?
And I was like, oh my God, that is so cool.
And I started telling everyone I knew about it because I thought everyone should know this awesome fact. ”
He didn’t say anything in return and simply stared at me, making me more nervous, so I just continued on, babbling about my nerdy weather obsession.
“I started telling people more random facts about how raindrops aren’t actually tear-shaped—they’re spherical until air resistance flattens them—or that a lightning bolt is five times hotter than the surface of the sun,” I continued, noting that his face had turned into an amused smirk.
“Eventually I realized you could get paid to like these nerdy things and decided to make a career out of it,” I added, noticing his smirk had turned into a full-blown smile.
He clearly found my random tangent entertaining. Time to end this.
“I'll stop talking now,” I said, turning back to my bowl in slight embarrassment.
Hoping to change the subject to safer, less embarrassing, territory, I opted to convey my gratitude for his help. “Thanks again for letting me stay here.”
I still wasn’t sure coming here was the greatest idea, but after Hector’s comment about safety, I realized it was the best option I had at the time.
“It’s not a big deal,” he replied, but he was wrong.
“Yes, it is. I could have stayed with Nancy, but I didn’t want to put her in harm’s way if this person came back,” I told him.
Also, if someone did follow me, I already knew Hector was a great guy since he had helped protect my sister, and I told him as much.
“Plus, I find it comforting and safe around you,” I told him honestly.
“Most people are scared of me because of my size,” he added. “I’m told it’s rather intimidating. Hell, even some of the kids who come to get their junior ranger badges look intimidated by me.”
“I’m pretty sure that has more to do with your grumpy demeanor than your size,” I told him. “Besides, I happen to like your larger frame.”
He snorted. “Right.”
“I mean it. I’m a bigger girl myself, so I’ve always been drawn to larger men because I figure they would be the only ones comfortable with…umm…” I quickly stopped talking, knowing I likely shouldn’t share the rest of that thought.
“Comfortable with what?”
Crap. I guess he wasn’t just going to ignore that slip.
“Umm…never mind.” I tried to brush it off, waving my hand dismissively.
“Comfortable with what, Iris?” His question was a bit more demanding this time.
I stared right at him and blurted my inner thoughts right out. “Sex. Umm...like having me be on top.”
He closed his eyes, and I wasn’t sure if it was because he was still feeling weird about his size or because what I said had crossed the line.
“Sorry. I just…”
“Iris, stop talking,” he said, running his hand over his face. “I’m gonna take the dog out really quick.”
In a flash, he was gone. Once again, I had put my foot in my mouth and scared off the big hot guy.
Me and my stupid mouth.