5. Lucie
Lucie sat at her vanity, picking up a tube of blue paint and rolling it between her fingers. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine where she might go today. A beach, a secret garden, a library. Ooh, maybe a cabin in the woods where she could paint all day.
But the images in her head disappeared like the paint on her brush dripping into her water cup. The familiar spark of inspiration that usually came when she touched her paints was gone. Missing.
It had been days since she last painted. The memory of her father ripping up her last piece still stung, sharp and painful. What if she could never paint again?
The fear that she had lost something vital gnawed at her.
Or worse, what if she were destined to stay here forever? To live a quiet life, surviving but never truly living, day after day. She couldn’t afford to dwell on it now.
Downstairs, the shop was quiet, the aftermath of the previous night’s storm lingering in the air’s humidity. It was early—too early for tourists and especially for her father after a night of heavy drinking. Lucie pulled down the hem of her sleeve again.
Lucie moved through the shop, straightening shelves and dusting the corny trinkets that had been there as long as she could remember. It was a routine she knew by heart, something to keep her hands busy while her mind wandered.
As she was restocking a shelf of cleaning supplies in the back, the front door creaked open, and the bell above it tinkled.
“I’ll be right with you,” she called, setting down a heavy box. “Let me know if you need help finding anything.”
When she stepped into the main room, her breath caught. A man stood by the counter, looking slightly disheveled and travel-worn.
Woah. He was tall, really tall, like romance-novel tall. Was she drooling? She wiped her face with her hand. Nope, phewww.
The man standing before her could have been on the cover of the trashy romance novel she hid beneath a loose board in her room, with dark curls and intense amber eyes that seemed to take in everything around him.
Stubble dusted his jaw. She didn’t know jaws could look like that, carved and masculine.
Tattoos whirled across the bronze skin of his right hand.
Lucie glanced down at the pepper spray she had hidden behind the counter.
She bought it after one of her dad’s “friends” got too handsy when a bunch of them came over to watch a football game.
She waited for the usual panic that gripped her whenever she was left alone in the shop with a man, but it never came.
She wanted to paint his eyes. She figured it would take a while to find the perfect blend of marigold, amber, and ash.
Lucie blinked, trying to gather her thoughts as she moved to the stool behind the counter. The man was still watching her, his gaze unwavering. She shifted on the balls of her feet, as if he could see through her.
“What can I help you with?” she asked, fiddling with a blue ballpoint pen she doodled with.
For a moment, he didn’t reply, and she worried she had something on her face. Paint? Food? No, she hadn’t eaten yet. Lucie caught a flicker in his eyes—confusion, maybe, or hesitation. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, he cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair.
“Uh, supplies,” his deep voice rang out. “I need supplies.”
“Well, where are you headed? Maybe I can help you figure it out,” Lucie said, tucking her hair back behind her ear.
He hesitated, glancing out the window as if seeking an answer in the daylight.
“I just needed to get away for a while to clear my head,” he answered.
Lucie nodded, feeling a pang of sympathy, though she had driven no farther than the post office to pick up their mail.
Lucie smiled. The man in front of her stopped when she did. But she continued, “Then you’re in the right place. I can get you some coffee.”
“Yeah, coffee. That’s what I want,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“I’ll make you a fresh pot,” she said, coming around the table. He gave her a wide berth.
He looked at her, surprise flicking across his eyes. It was as though he hadn’t expected anyone to offer kindness, or maybe he wasn’t used to accepting it. She’d just made a fresh one in preparation for the morning bus that always arrived at 6:32, but she wanted him to stay a little longer.
He nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. “Yeah, that sounds good, thanks.”
As she began to open the bag of coffee grounds, curiosity burned in her skull. There was a story behind those eyes, and she found herself wanting to be part of it. The man’s silver bracelet began to chirp. He tapped it, silencing the sound.
“So what do you do for work?” Lucie asked, biting the inside of her cheek.
Stupid. That was so stupid. It was right next to the questions, “Do you come here often?” and “Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”
She just wanted to hear him talk again—the rough, low edge to his voice, a slight Spanish accent. Yum.
“I am a Ranger. I work as a search-and-rescue officer for the US Forest Service,” he admitted, dusting off a snow globe.
A tattoo peeked from under his leather jacket, and she wondered whether the rest of his arm was covered in ink.
Lucie blinked, caught off guard—a Ranger.
The Forest Ranger logo was emboldened on his green hat, but not in his eyes.
She couldn’t imagine the man standing here in his leather jacket and stubble, wearing a beige uniform—he didn’t exactly scream nature conservation.
“Really? You don’t look like a Ranger,” she said, then clapped a hand over her mouth.
He raised a thick, dark eyebrow, and his smile turned into a teasing grin. “What do I look like, then?” As he tilted his head, she could have sworn she saw another tattoo peek out from beneath his collar.
Sign her up for the Forest Service.
His gaze softened.
Heat rose to her cheeks.
“I figured you were more . . . I don’t know, like running a motorcycle gang or something?” she said, biting her lower lip.
He laughed, the sound deep and warm, and a zing shot all the way down to her toes.
“Ah, well, maybe I could be living a double life. You never know.” He winked at her. “But I like it. I help with rescue operations—like, um, hikers, for example. I like being outside, too, and I’m good with my hands.” Lucie turned her full attention to his rough, calloused hands.
I bet he is.
He gave her a funny look. Did I say that last part out loud?
“I mean—I bet you . . . must see some pretty amazing things out there,” Lucie fumbled. Yep. Nailed. It.
“Yeah, it has its moments. Like today, for example,” he said, his dark eyes holding hers for a beat longer than necessary.
“Today?” she squeaked, squeezing the life out of his empty to-go cup.
He nodded, a teasing glint in his eye. “Yep, you never know who you’ll run into. Your life could change on a random Thursday.”
Lucie parted her lips to respond when the back door flew open. She flinched, but was grateful for the interruption. What if she said something stupid and embarrassing again?
Her father’s voice filled the space. Charm seeped out of his pores. He only smiled when someone was buying something.
“Lucie! Stop bothering this nice young man. Let him get what he needs and be on his way. I’m sure he’s incredibly busy,” he said, limping into the room from behind the employees-only curtain.
Lucie jumped, turning toward her father with a guilty expression.
“Sorry, Dad.”
The Forest Ranger behind her straightened up, a smile still playing on his lips. But she could see him looking between her and her dad, trying to figure something out.
The stranger gave her a small, encouraging smile. “Lucie,” the Ranger whispered, as if confessing a sin to a priest. She decided she loved the way he said her name. His voice took on a musical tone when he said it.
“Lucie was doing a great job helping me,” the Ranger said. “I actually work for the National Forest Department and I’m in charge of the supply runs for our Ranger District. You’re lucky I found you. I’ve been looking for a new supplier. Today I need flour and barley, if you’ve got any.”
Lucie could practically see the dollar signs in her father’s eyes. It could change everything for her father, the shop, and her. Maybe they could earn enough to hire help for her dad, and then she could go back to school in the fall.
Her father grunted and nodded. “We’ve got plenty of it. Lucie, help him out.”
“Big, tough guy like you can’t handle it?” the Ranger challenged, cocking a thick eyebrow at him.
Her dad’s jaw tightened, and he patted his injured leg.
“Bad accident. Can’t move around well,” her dad shot back.
Lucie’s heart squeezed.
“Don’t worry about it, Dad. I got it,” she said, touching her dad’s arm as she stepped between the pair. “The flour and barley are back this way. Follow me.”
Lucie practically skipped to where they kept their bulk products.
The Ranger followed her into the dark, secluded part of their shop. Had it always been this dark? This intimate? She had been back here plenty of times, but never with a man pressed close behind her.
Lucie reached down to grab one of the fifty-pound bags of barley they kept for local farmers.
“I can handle this, sweetheart, but thank you,” he said, his fingers brushing against her hand.
A spark shot through her, and she swore he looked just as affected by her closeness, which was crazy.
She had never had anyone look at her that way.
She was completely invisible at school. During the semesters her dad let her go to college, she had been a romantic disappointment.
She let the romance department stay nestled in her novels. Books were safer.
The Ranger threw the two barley and flour sacks over his shoulder as if they didn’t weigh anything. She shook off the thought of him doing the same to her.
Again, she waited for the panic to rush in, but there were no butterflies, only peace, warmth, and comfort.
Now he was leaving, taking that feeling back to his place, a place she didn’t belong.
It was crazy to even think about, because she had only known him for maybe ten minutes, and she was already naming their children.
She needed to stop reading. She didn’t know the first thing about this guy—he could be a serial axe killer.
“Will that be everything?” she asked, looking up at him as his broad frame towered over her.
“That’s everything,” he said, giving her a half smile. “For now.” He stepped out of her way so she could go back down the aisle first. His watch went off again—busy man.
Lucie helped the Ranger purchase everything while her father, bless his heart, tried to upsell him on other things he might need at the Ranger Station. The Ranger declined but promised he’d be back. Lucie would be counting down the days.
The Ranger gave her a quick look before stepping out the door that had brought him into her life.
Her father went into the back, counting the cash the Ranger had paid with. Who carried that much cash on them? Mafia bosses? Vampire lords?
Lucie sighed when his black Jeep disappeared around the curve in the road.
“What’s that boy’s name? I don’t like him,” her dad spat, popping two more nicotine pouches into his mouth.
“I don’t know,” she sighed, propping her chin on her hand.
But she was excited to find out.