by Meg Ripley
After saying those optimistic things, I really believed them. It wasn’t like I didn’t want a girlfriend or anything. I did. But, I would know when there was a girl who was worth it. I just hadn’t found her yet. I couldn’t say I was optimistic that tonight would be the night that I would find her, but who knew? The night was still young, after all.
“Hurry up, man!” Trent and Knox had headed back into the living room and I sighed, taking one last look at myself in the mirror.
It’ll do. I didn’t look particularly well put together or anything, but whatever. We were going to a bar and I doubted the girl of my dreams would be found at a lowly pub.
Chapter 3 - Min
Our flight arrived at 8pm and had been three hours long. The woman next to me hardly said a word; when I asked her to tell me about the park, “You’ll see it when you get there,” was her tight-lipped response.
She wasn’t a very chatty—or friendly—so, I decided to get a little shut eye for the rest of the flight. And when I woke up, I felt great. I wasn’t sure if it was such a good thing, because I realized I would probably be awake all night because of it.
“When we get outside, there will be a car waiting for you. It’ll be yours for the duration of your stay, so you’ll have a means for getting to and from the park,” the woman said as we disembarked from the plane.
“So, where will I be staying?”
God, I hope it’s not some shitty motel or something, I thought, grabbing my forest green suitcase as it finally came down the conveyor belt. She didn’t have any luggage, so when I grabbed mine, she started walking toward the exit and didn’t answer my question. When we got to the street, she led me to a sleek black car.
“An Audi?”
“2016 A8. I don’t need to remind you that this is a classified mission. You can disclose to people what your job at the CDC is, but nothing about the mission or the information that was revealed to you. You can disclose that this is a government vehicle being loaned to you for your job. If anyone asks why you are visiting Acadia, however, you are to say that you are there to collect the aquatic insect data that’s supposed to be recorded every 5-10 years. We are within the time frame, so it will make for a valid excuse.” She handed me a folder. “Here’s some paperwork to validate this if anyone needs further confirmation. In there are also some pages that you’ll have to fill out, indicating when the ticks were released and if you see anything out of the ordinary happen afterward.”
This just seems weird. Why are we keeping this such a secret if we’re supposed to be helping these people? Can’t we just reveal that we know about them and offer our help? I thought, but then I wondered how open these shifters were to being known. They might have a completely negative reaction to the government knowing of their existence and go into hiding or reject the help. I guess it might be best to just handle it without their knowledge…
“There’s a black suitcase that was already placed in your trunk that contains a case of the ticks. Oh, and to answer your question, you will be staying at the Bass Cottage Inn, here in Bar Harbor. The address is already plugged into the GPS in your car; all you have to do is follow its directions.”
A man got out of the driver’s seat, grabbed my bag and hoisted it into the trunk. “She’s all yours,” he said, just before he and the woman walked off together.
I squealed in excitement as I took another look at the car. The shit box I was driving back home was a 2016 silver Chrysler 200, which was probably the lowest rated sedan in all the US at the time. But, it was all I could afford when I started my big government job and I thought I would get a better car once I started racking up paychecks. Chrissy, as I called her, ended up growing on me after all, so, until she died, I drove her. But, I couldn’t say I wasn’t thrilled to drive an Audi.
I practically ran to the driver’s side of the car, eager to get in. Once I sat and closed the door, I examined the insides.
A sunroof, back up cam, button to heat the seats, built in GPS, Bluetooth, and USB ports? This is amazing! I immediately plugged in my phone and started singing along to New Order.
“Every time I see you falling / I get down on my knees and pray / I'm waiting for that final moment / You say the words that I can't say…” I sang aloud, bouncing in my seat a bit. I’m not sure why I was so happy, but the car had put me in a good mood. I revved the engine as I pulled the car onto the road and hit the start button on the GPS.
Now, I just need the hotel to be just as awesome and this night will be perfect!
****
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said to myself, pulling up to the Inn. The place was practically a mansion. There seemed to be at least three floors and I counted fourteen windows on the second and third floors alone. When I got out of the car, there was a man waiting for me wearing black slacks, a white button-down shirt and a black vest. He was older and bald, with a full white beard.
“You must be Ms. Dupont. Welcome to Bass Cottage Inn! Let me help you with your bags.” He walked over to the trunk that I had popped open and grabbed my suitcases. “My name is Frank, and I will be showing you to your room.”
This man was probably the most chipper person I’d ever met in my life.
“You will be staying in the Verbena room, which is located on the second floor in the left wing,” he said, walking up to the beautiful stained-glass doors. As we passed through the doorway, I peered around the gorgeous foyer as he continued, “To your left and right are several sitting areas for you to enjoy. Feel free to help yourself to any of the books we have on display over here on the left. Look past the shelves and you’ll notice a grand piano. Do you play?”
“Um, no,” I responded, too caught up in my surroundings. Everything was decorated in rich shades of mahogany and taupe with gorgeous ornate designs; I couldn’t wait to see my room. We climbed one flight of stairs, heading to the left side of the building. He led me past several sets of doors, all the way down to the far end of the corridor.
“Well, here we are!” he exclaimed, opening the door to the room and setting my luggage on the rack. When I entered, my jaw hit the floor. The room was decorated in the same colors as downstairs, but with navy and slate accents. There was a generously-sized leather sofa, a regal armchair, and a king-sized canopy bed with a gas fireplace next to it.
“Although it seems you have come alone, your bathroom features a two-person jetted tub which will be through that door.” He gestured to the right of the room. “Breakfast is served from 8 to 10am, should you wish to join us, and it is complimentary with your stay. Feel free to order anything you’d like.”
Free breakfast—not just continental crap—and a jacuzzi? This place is unreal.
“And with that, I’ll leave you to enjoy your accommodations. Do ring us downstairs if you need anything,” Frank smiled and left the room, leaving the keys on the coffee table.
As soon as he left, I ran straight for the bed and threw myself onto the plush down duvet.
“Wow,” I said aloud, gazing around the room in awe. Is this what getting field work is like?
Just then, my phone rang. Who could that be?
I grabbed my phone and didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID, but decided to answer.
“Hello?”
“Is your room to your liking?” I heard the woman’s voice from earlier on the other line.
“It’s amazing. How long can I stay here?”
“As long as you want, honestly. The government will pay for it until your job is done, as long as you keep me updated on your progress,” she replied bluntly.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all,” she said flatly. “I will submit a report stating that you have arrived here safely. I expect your next update in one week’s time. That should be plenty for you to at least plant the ticks.”
“Understood,” I replied. I was beginning to realize I was never going to get on this woman’s good side—if she even had one. As I opened my mouth to ask o
ne more question, I heard the woman end our call without as much as a simple goodbye.
“Rude,” I said aloud, throwing the phone down onto the bed beside me. I stared at the ceiling, feeling even more awake than before and checked my watch. It was 9pm.
Well, it’s still so early, and it’s Friday night. Maybe I should check out the night life here in Bar Harbor?
With that, I grabbed my phone and began searching for bars in the area. Leary's Landing Irish Pub popped up and it had the best reviews, so I decided to go there. Spotting a full-length mirror in the corner, I padded over to it, wondering if I should change my outfit. Eh, it’s good enough. Besides, I just want to grab a couple of drinks and scope out the locals, I thought as I tucked my phone in my back pocket and headed for the door.
****
When I pulled up to the pub, it looked pretty dead inside and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to venture in, but I decided to roll the dice.
When I walked in, everyone’s eyes turned to me. There were only about eight people inside: three girls sat at the bar, looking to be in their twenties. A couple of older guys were hanging out at the other end of the bar, then, in the back corner, three relatively young guys in their mid to late twenties were gathered around a table. One had a buzzed, military-style cut and was tall and muscular. The other guy had the same build but had shortly cropped black hair and had a tan. The guy in between them is who captured my attention, though.
He had beautiful bronze skin, with short dark hair that I wanted to run my fingers through. His features were strong, and he was cleanly shaven, just how I liked ‘em. He was of Hispanic descent for sure, I just couldn’t tell from exactly where. His eyes were a light brown, almost hazel.
And they were staring directly at me.
I blushed and looked away immediately, heading toward the bar. There was a chalk board fixed to the wall featuring a list of four specialty cocktails, and my eyes scanned over the options.
“What can I get for you?” the bartender asked.
“Uh…I’ll have the Fresh Whiskey Smash,” I decided. It was described as a shot of Irish whiskey with a shot of fresh lemon juice and a mint sugar cube in it. Sounded pretty delicious to me. If it was good, I would stick with it; I didn’t feel like dealing with a hangover in the morning.
The bartender presented the drink to me in a margarita glass, oddly; I decided to stir the drink until the ice cube melted and then took a cautious sip.
I had to admit, it was pretty delicious. I was usually a wine person, but I liked to try signature drinks when I felt adventurous. And with all that had happened that day, I was definitely feeling it.
“Um, hi there.” I heard a voice next to me and almost spit out my drink.
The gorgeous guy from the corner table had decided to come to say hello.
If you enjoyed this preview of Ranger Ramon, you may download the entire story HERE. Available with Kindle Unlimited.
Also Available From Meg Ripley
Playing With Fire
Dragons Of The Darkblood Secret Society, Book 1
I’ve always done my best to work hard and stand apart from my father’s shadow, but it seemed like he was setting me up to fail. When he assigned me a new client, Adventure Isle–a run down amusement park in the middle of nowhere–I knew I’d have to find the investor of a lifetime to succeed.
I was looking for an investor with more money than sense. What I found was a man who had no money, but he did have a daughter named Shayne–a gorgeous, ball-busting daughter that I wanted from the second I laid eyes on her.
She controls the money, but she also controlled my heart. But just when I find myself in her bed, exactly where I want to be, she gets a call. Her father is dead; killed by a dragon.
And things are about to get a whole lot more complicated when she learns that I’m a dragon, too…
**This is the first installment of the Dragons Of The Darkblood Secret Society series. Each story is a standalone and may be read in any order.
Grab Your Copy HERE
Available With Kindle Unlimited
Marked By Fire
Dragons Of The Darkblood Secret Society, Book 2
Trust is a currency I don’t spend easily with anyone–namely, humans.
Manhattan was the last place I imagined moving to, but after living in isolation from other dragons for far too long, it was time to see if the rumors I’d heard about the Darkblood Secret Society were true.
I knew falling in with this elite group of dragons wasn’t going to be easy–nor would adjusting to my new responsibilities as CFO of one of the world’s largest investment firms.
What I didn’t expect was to fall for my very human secretary. With her long, dark hair and emerald green eyes, there was something about Sabrina that wasn’t like the others. She pulled me in like a magnet, making it virtually impossible to work with only an office door between us.
But when I find out she’s descended from a long line of dragon hunters–the very people who killed my family–will my loyalties lie with my roots, or with my heart?
Grab Your Copy HERE
Available With Kindle Unlimited
Enchanted By Fire
Dragons Of The Darkblood Secret Society, Book 3
Resa Robinson, a sassy reporter and fantasy blogger, showed up at my office for an interview one day, looking for the real story behind the mysterious CEO of Cobalt Computers.
Well, she found it when she caught me shifting on the roof of my building.
With no other option but to take her as prisoner, I now have to decide what to do with this bold, beautiful woman who is more intrigued than intimidated by my status as a dragon.
The longer I hold her captive, however, the more my attraction to her grows by the second. My need to possess every inch of her is becoming unbearable, and I can’t help but surrender to the passion that threatens to consume me.
Surely, someone will come looking for her soon, but freeing her could spell the end of everything I’ve ever known and spent my life protecting. Will I be able to convince this feisty beauty to stay with me and keep our little secret?
Grab Your Copy HERE
Available With Kindle Unlimited
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About The Author
Meg Ripley is an author of erotic science fiction and paranormal romance stories. As a child, she had recurring dreams about being abducted by aliens and has been obsessed with extraterrestrial life ever since. A Seattle native, Meg can often be found curled up in a local coffee house with her laptop.
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