by Lia London
Dumb-founded, she pressed the fob. “Shut up!” The alarm stopped, and Parker stared at the man with a mixture of relief and surprise. “Should I be worried that you knew how to do that?”
“Probably not.” He tucked his tools into the large pocket of his jacket. “But I should verify that this is your car. Name please?”
“What?”
He reached inside the car again and retrieved her purse. “Name please?” He began opening the zipper.
“Excuse me?” Parker snatched her purse away from him.
He grabbed it back more gently. “How do I know you’re not an opportunist, planning to steal both a purse and a car from some poor, unsuspecting idiot who doesn’t know how to take the key out the ignition?”
Parker’s face morphed into a scowl. “Oh, thanks a lot.”
“You’re welcome,” he said smugly. “Name please? I’m going to make sure it matches the name on the license.”
She swiped her hand at the purse, but he held it out of her reach. “Oh, for the love of mug shots, you are not going to look at my license. I look like a troll.” Booster barked, and Parker shot him a wary glance. “Don’t you start in on me.” With a heavy sigh, she folded her arms. “Parker. My name is Parker. It’s a rental car, so don’t ask me any details. I just drove up from L.A. in one day, and my brain is fried.”
“That explains so many things.” The man opened the purse, extracted her wallet, and examined her driver’s license. “Not a troll. Though I agree your hair is better brown and straight than neon pink and spiky.”
“My picture does not—”
“And it’s Daisy Parker. Close, but no cigar.”
“Gaaaah!” She slapped his arm and grabbed for her purse one last time.
He relinquished it with a warm laugh and took Booster’s leash back. “Nice to meet you, Daisy.”
“It’s Parker,” she said through clenched teeth as she stuffed her wallet back into her purse. “And here’s the receipt to prove it’s a rental car.”
He eyed the paper without interest. “Very nice.” Stepping back carefully in the limited space, he gestured to the open door. “Your chariot awaits, Miss Daisy.”
“It’s Parker.” She crammed herself into the seat and slammed the door.
“Glad to be of service.” He leaned across her windshield with one hand tucked into his sleeve and wiped away the greasy fingerprint the ferry worker had left. Backing away, he gave her a friendly wink and disappeared with Booster down the ramp.
Too late, she opened the door and called after him, “Hey, thank you!” The roar of the ferry engine drowned out her voice, and she sank back into the seat. Though the wind had chilled her whole body, her cheeks flushed warm. He wasn’t exactly a tall, dark, and handsome stranger, but he had been efficient and kind, something she didn’t see much at the studio. She shook her head. “For the love of peanut butter. I didn’t even catch his name.”
“Daisy Parker.” Guy let the name roll around in his mouth as he started up the engine. Beside him in the passenger seat, Booster panted like a friend chuckling. “Come on, Boo. You have to admit she’s …” He shrugged. “What is she?”
“Woof!”
“Well, yes. She’s barky. Probably in chihuahua mode, you know?”
Booster snorted his agreement.
Guy drove the van puttering around the familiar bends, and contemplated the encounter. “She was flustered.” He pointed a finger at Booster, including him in the conversation. “But do you think it was standard embarrassment for setting off alarms, or did I offend her?”
“Woof woof!”
“I’m not so bad, am I? I tried to be polite,” countered Guy. He squinted at himself in the rearview mirror, but refused to pass judgment on the state of his hair. Everyone who went on deck had a windblown, scattered look on a ferry ride.
Even Daisy Parker.
“She was adorable. I don’t know why, but …” He sighed happily. “I wonder if we’ll see her again. I wonder why she’s here. Do you think I teased her too much? She got so riled up.” He ruffled the dog’s ears. “Booster, she was adorable!”
Booster lifted an ear with a skeptical expression.
“I’ll tell you what, Boo. If I see her again, I’ll get more details on her. She set an alarm off in here.” Guy thumped his chest. “Those bright eyes, the feistiness. Yeah, she’s adorable!” He pulled off the main road. “Now come on. I need to make a quick detour. My locksmith stuff got a little bent up in our rescue job. It’ll just take a minute, and then we’ll get you home to your fresh dogfood.”
Booster barked and shimmied in his seat as Guy parked the van and jumped out.
“I’ll be right back,” assured Guy, drumming his fingers on the windshield. He strode inside with a wide grin on his face. “Hey, Todd,” he called to the cashier.
“Hey, Guy. You go to Anacortes today?”
“Yep.”
Todd eyed him with suspicion. “You don’t usually come back this happy. You’re humming, Guy. What the heck?”
Guy crouched and examined the tools on the bottom shelf of the first aisle.
Todd appeared behind him. “You ain’t drunk or something?”
Guy chuckled. “No. I’ll be back to normal when the effect wears off.”
“The effect of what? Diesel fumes?”
“Daisy, Todd. A pretty little daisy who thinks she’s a bee.”
“Oh, for crying out loud, I didn’t think you drank.”
“I don’t. Daisy is a female. Have you seen one?” He gestured as he spoke. “They’re usually shaped like—”
“I know what a girl looks like!” Todd harrumphed and shuffled back to the front of the store. “A girl? You know, if you’d get out more, they wouldn’t affect you so much.”
“I heard you!” Guy called.
“Well, it’s true!”
“I get out plenty.” His mind’s eye revisited Daisy’s flushed cheeks. What difference did it make, though? He probably wouldn’t bump into her again.
Following the ferry traffic onto Orcas Road, Parker felt her nerves settle back down. The two-lane road wound through forested patches and then opened to a few idyllic farms before twisting by the tiny hamlet of Eastsound. Quaintly hugging the inside of the horseshoe-shaped island, the town was orderly and picturesque. Using the GPS, Parker found the hardware store and parked beside an old VW van. As she stepped out, she heard a loud bark and peeked in the window.
“No way. Booster?”
The dog licked the inside of the window and barked again.
Parker closed her eyes and counted to fourteen before deciding she needed a spare key more than her dignity right now. Ducking inside, she scanned the aisles. When she saw no sign of the man from the ferry, she dragged her fingers through her hair with relief.
“Excuse me?” She approached the clerk at the front cashier. “Do you make duplicate keys here?”
“You bet.” He held out his palm to receive the key. “How many do you need?”
“Just one.”
“Better make it two,” said a voice behind her. “She can hide one in each shoe.”
Parker clenched her fists and spoke through gritted teeth. “Hello again.” She turned to see Booster’s owner smiling at her with shining eyes. It disarmed her for only a second before she regained her snarky tone. “Upgrading your tools for breaking and entering?”
The man laughed, a kind sound without malice.
Meanwhile, the clerk wiggled the key between his finger and thumb. “So was that one copy, or two?”
Parker stared at him. “I said one. This guy has nothing to do with my keys.”
“This is Daisy,” said the bearded man knowingly.
The clerk raised an appraising eyebrow. “Really? The Daisy? You don’t say.” He whistled a low note and strolled off toward the back of the store with the key, leaving the register unattended.
Parker forced a smile and turned to the skinny man. “What was that all about?”
“Uh-huh. So now that you’ve introduced me to the sales clerk, do you have a name?”
“I do.”
“Do I have to attack you and steal your wallet to find out what it is?”
The corner of his mouth skipped upward for a second. “Are you going to try?”
“Oh, for the love of peanut butter—”
“Guy.”
“Guy?”
“Guy Fox.”
“Your name is Guy?”
“It’s Guy Fox, but I go by Guy. Fox seems a little presumptuous.”
Parker felt her cheeks warming in a traitorous blush. “You are a sly one.”
Guy leaned on the stand that held the debit card machine. “You sure that’s perfectly legal?”
“What?”
He jerked his head in the direction of the key grinding noises coming from the back of the store. “Can you make copies of rental car keys?”
Parker huffed out a breath. “It’s either that, or hope you’re hanging around to bail me out again.”
“You could try not locking it.”
“And get it stolen? No thanks.”
He shook his head. “Not a lot of grand auto theft going on here. We all leave the doors unlocked.”
Parker stood straighter with surprise. “Really?”
“Think about it. It costs a fortune to take the ferry out here, and there’s no quick get-away routes.” He shrugged. “Where’s a crook going to hide?”
She resisted chuckling. “Up a tree?”
“Nah. It wrecks the mud flaps.” He held his arms open wide. “Besides, we all know each other.”
“All one big, happy, island family?” Parker smirked.
“This time of year, usually.” He toyed with the zipper on his jacket, and she noticed his fingers were long and clean. It seemed an odd thing to observe, and she tried to yawn the sleep from her brain.
With a playful salute, he backed down the aisle. “It’s a safe place. Enjoy your stay.”
“How do you know I’m not moving here?” Parker took a few paces after him, as if magnetically drawn to him.
“Rental car.” He tapped his forehead. “No U-haul. No warm jacket.”
Parker folded her arms, aware of how thin her windbreaker felt beneath her fingers. “You’re a regular Sherlock Holmes.” He chuckled, revealing dimples beneath the fuzz on his face. “I mean, when you’re not breaking into cars.”
“I dabble in everything.” He waved and turned a corner at the endcap flashlight display. “See you around, Daisy.”
“It’s Parker!” Her voice came out shriller than she meant, and she popped her hands over her mouth.
The clerk returned at that moment with a knowing smirk. He handed her the new key, hot off the grinder. Parker paid cash. No way would she submit a receipt for a back-up key to Sandy. They’d think she’d lost her groove. She was supposed to be the one who had everything all figured out.
Now if she could just figure out why this man, Guy, rankled her so much.
Disaster #3 ~ Hangry and Dirty
After a quick consultation with the GPS again, she found her way back out of Eastsound and sped along the main road. At a tiny air field, she turned left and headed uphill, squinting at passing driveways for a sign that marked the turn-off for the beachfront resort the studio had booked. Along the way, she passed three homemade signs advertising fresh eggs, and a small pasture with two Texas longhorns grazing with bored contentment. Slowing to view them more closely helped her catch the needed landmark, and she pulled onto a long, gravelly lane that plunged straight into a forest.
“For the love of shock-absorbers,” she muttered, braking down to jogging pace. The path had probably not been leveled in decades, and she wondered how many dings the gravel would leave on the paint job. “Not my bill.”
Just before the lane dipped down a steep hill to parallel the shoreline, a doe and a young buck pranced across her path, flicking their tails. They paused to regard her seriously before lithely leaping a wire fence into a small meadow.
The moment took Parker by surprise, and she unclenched her fingers and toes, grateful the car had stopped in time. With no traffic pressing behind her, she exhaled and took in the view. It felt more like a summer camp for kids than a pricey, posh resort, yet the peacefulness seeped into her. Less hurried, she eased down the last bumpy stretch and onto the grounds of the resort, which turned out to be a series of cottages, each with a private beach area.
The predominant color was gray. Gray clouds with a hint of blue. Gray gravel with a hint of yellow dust. Gray water with a hint of green swirling beneath the surface. Even the moss on the cabin roofs seemed gray.
Parker pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered a few unsavory words about studio execs and their ideas of cruel and unusual punishment. Perhaps it was lovely in the summer, but this resort under November skies reminded her more of the setting for a horror flick with deranged wolf-zombies attacking the guests in the mists of night than a romantic or restful getaway.
The woman at the desk in the office greeted her warmly. “Hi, I’m Andie. You must be Daisy Parker.”
“I am. How’d you know?”
“Not many people come browsing our neck of the woods on a Sunday afternoon, so I figured.” Andie pointed out the window. “Most of the time. In summer, folks book a year in advance. You’re lucky it’s November.”
Parker coughed back a laugh. “Well, it’s a little chillier than I’d normally choose for a beach trip.”
“Oh, you’ll find a reason to love it. Everyone does.” She handed Parker a form to sign and handed her a key. “Your cabin is the one right next door with the yellow door. There’s no Wi-Fi or TV, so I hope you brought plenty to read. We’ll host our tea party on Monday from three to five in the lodge.” She pointed. “It’s next door to the other side. It’s free.”
Parker processed the bit about no WiFi or TV as she opened the door to leave. “Right. Tea party. Do we dress up?”
“If you want. It’s a great time to meet the other guests and enjoy the big fireplace.”
Parker nodded her thanks, doubting she wanted to mingle with the kind of people who vacationed in November. They were probably all three times her age.
She moved the car into the gravel drive in front of her assigned cabin and gave the set-up an inspection. Two high-backed benches faced each other to form a little porch. It would be a cozy place to read if she had a book, and if it wasn’t freezing outside. Inside, the one-room cabin resembled a homey version of a hotel room, with sleeping on one side and a kitchenette area on the other.
“I’m not going to cook on vacation.” Parker realized too late that she hadn’t asked about eating options. Dropping her luggage on the bed, she jogged back over to the office only to find it closed. “Fabulous,” she muttered sarcastically. “The customer service here is amazing.” She spun on her heel and marched to the lodge, a beautiful, early-twentieth-century structure with stone steps leading up to a broad porch. Groaning, she stopped short. All the lights were out.
“A resort with no room service, WiFi, TV, or vending machines?” She cursed herself for not grabbing the last of the cheesy crackers on the ferry. She sank onto the bottom step and let her chin fall into her hands. “Some getaway. I’m going to starve to death.” She tried to envision the few blocks of Eastsound she had driven. No familiar restaurant chains came to mind, not even McDonald’s or Taco Bell.
She stared out at the water, only about thirty yards away, and noticed for the first time that no breakers rolled on the shore. The pebbled beach absorbed ripples on the sound with a soft tsh tsh, and the sun dropped below the horizon. Night would envelope her very soon, and on an island with almost no street lamps, she feared getting lost in the winding roads. Her stomach rumbled and told her to get over the stupid fear. How could driving on dark, forested roads be harder than navigating L.A. during rush hour?
Once on the m
ain street, she spied a well-lit, gleaming white inn with a restaurant and a veranda. Why hadn’t she been given a week’s stay there? Unsure if the establishment allowed non-guests to dine there, she opted to keep driving, passing a few antique shops, a book store, a bakery, and an adorable, steepled chapel on the water front.
A few blocks later, she had traversed the entirety of the main drag and found herself once again on a windy road surrounded by trees.
“Ah-ha!”
A gas station with a mini-mart and a laundromat glowed like a beacon of hope, and she pulled into the parking lot, determined to find sustenance to last her until morning. Lights in the laundromat revealed a mother with two small children folding towels and an older man snoozing on the plastic chairs. Parker stepped inside the mini-mart and gave a curt smile to the cashier. She found the cold case and tried to muster enthusiasm for the shrink-wrapped sandwiches there, but couldn’t. With a resigned frown, she snagged a half gallon of milk and a small box of Lucky Charms and trudged up to the counter. Again, she decided against turning in receipts for this purchase. How lame would that be?
The cashier, a woman in the nebulous forty-ish range, scanned her items. “You like breakfast for dinner?”
“I didn’t know where to go for dinner.” Parker handed her a ten-dollar bill.
“Oh, there’s bunches of places to eat.”
“I guess I wasn’t up for exploring without a recommendation from a local.”
“Oh, well—”
Parker held up her hand to cut off the woman’s suggestions. By now, she felt weary and hungry, and small talk wasn’t on her list of things to do. “It’s okay. I’ll come and check everything out in the morning. For now, I need to eat something.”
“Okay, well you still owe me another $2.63.”
“What?” Parker stared at the two-item purchase. “How can those cost over …?”
The woman yawned. “Island prices. Most of us go to Costco in Anacortes once a month and stock up. Gets spendy buying here.” She whispered past the back of her hand. “The market on Prune Alley is cheaper. Why didn’t you just go there?”