Caching In

by Tracy Krimmer

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Thank You!

  Caching In

  A Geocaching Love Story

  By Tracy Krimmer

  Copyright 2014 by Tracy Krimmer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Acknowledgments

  This book started with a title. I remember driving home from grocery shopping one day, and, out of nowhere, I yelled out loud “Caching in on love!” It was only me in the car, too! I started writing the book immediately. The first scene with Ally took a long time, but once I wrote it, I had the framework, and didn’t even need to think about the rest.

  Even though I wrote the book, so many other people went into the process. I need to thank my critique partner, Stephanie, who I bounce all my ideas off of and she is brutally honest with me. Brutally. Karan, one of my beta readers, let me know I was on the right track with Ally, and her encouraging words pushed me to finish. My friend Rebecca served as my geocaching expert. I’ve been geocaching many times, but she’s a pro in my eyes.

  There’s a group on Facebook I frequent, ChickLitChatHQ, and they are the best group of Chick Lit writers I could ever hope to meet. They suggested I shorten the title to just CACHING IN, and gave a ton of input on the cover. There’s always someone around in the group to help, and they are absolutely hilarious.

  My friend from grade school and high school, Dawn - she proofread the book for me and I imagine her face as I sent her bulks of chapters every week. I am thankful she took the time for me.

  I think my family always knows when I’m in the final stages of a book because mood swings. Yep, they happen. Finishing a book is exciting, nerve wracking, and frustrating all at the same time. I couldn’t do any of this without their support.

  And to my readers - I appreciate every single one of you and can only hope I lose you in my words and leave you wanting to read more from me!

  For Pat B., who always beats me in Words with Friends.

  You’re one of my biggest supporters.

  and

  For Lucy Lu, I miss your squishy bulldog face every day.

  CHAPTER ONE

  My ass was going to be hurting tomorrow. I stared at the hill in front of me, covered in patchy grass and footprints cemented in mud after the week of almost endless rain, and I filled with regret. The only good thing about making my way up to the top, was that going down would be easy. Hell, maybe I’d curl up and roll down. With my luck, I’d crash right into a boulder and cut my damn head open. At least I wouldn’t need to worry about this promotion anymore.

  I opted for the yoga pants. Why? Apparently my brain didn’t work. My thighs burned from the hike, and the fabric managed to stick to my skin. I glanced around to be sure no one could see me, and pulled at the crotch, loosening the fabric as best I could. No use. The sweat from my underwear sucked the fabric right back up, and I bet I had a severe case of camel toe. Ally Couper couldn’t be sexier.

  Sexy wasn’t a word I used to describe myself much, anyway. I didn’t label myself as a dog, but I sure didn’t fit on the same scale as Jennifer Lawrence. My whole life guys described as “not bad to look at.” Now, if someone explained to me exactly what that meant, that’d be great. I dated a few guys, and even had an ex-fiance, but he could go screw himself and every other girl in town, seeing he already did. I still considered myself somewhat of a catch. Taking into account Josh’s need to hop into bed with anything that moved, thus ending our practically decade-long relationship, perhaps I’m not, who knows.

  All I knew, in that moment when the enormous hill rose in front of me, was I planned on climbing that beast. When I got to the top, I intended on beating on my chest like the Hulk or King Kong, because dammit, I deserved to toot my own horn if these thunder thighs managed their way up to the top.

  I placed one foot on the upward slope, dug my shoe into the mud and attempted to get a grip on the ground as though by doing so I would catapult myself higher up the hill. Latching my hands around the straps of my backpack, which contained a bottled water and my iPad to take pictures at the top, I pushed forward my first few steps. Even though the temperature reached a comfortable sixty degrees this day in May, the sun beating down on my face brought more exhaustion. I committed myself to this. A failed engagement, a deceased father, and newly dating mother, and not enough credit to stop renting my duplex and buy a house, tied me down way too long. I needed a win. Not a Charlie Sheen win. An Ally Couper win.

  I kept moving up the hill, despite the burning in my chest. As long as my legs kept moving, I’d be okay. If I took even a moment to catch my breath, I was unsure if I could start back up again. Stiffness filled my thighs, and the slope deepened. Shit, I had my work cut out for me. I turned around to determine how far I’d gone. A mere twenty feet, probably. The view, however, already captured me, a natural garden of wildflowers stretched out from the foot of the hill, deep purples and bright yellows popping out from the greenery. God, I loved nature. Well, not all of nature. The bugs I could do without. Those damn mosquitoes still managed to bite me through the yoga pants.

  I took a deep breath, sucking in the balmy fragrance surrounding me, the air tickling my nose. Once I reached the top, a spectacular view of the lake surrounded me, a body of water outlined by full trees and gorgeous lake side homes - homes I never would be able to afford. Living on a lake was a dream, but my tiny duplex on the other side of town gave me much more appreciation for what awaited me atop the hill.

  Even being tied back, my hair still fell to the middle of my back, now stuffed between my shirt and backpack, so I yanked the ponytail to the side before continuing my journey. I needed water, but refused to stop now. I pushed myself further and further, my quads cursing me every time my shoe hit the ground. After this, I didn’t think I’d be able to sit, or even stand for that matter.

  After almost fifteen minutes, I arrived at the top. That may not seem long, but for me, it’s long. I love hiking, biking, running, all that stuff, but I’m not the best at it. Let’s just say, I would never win a triathlon, or place in the top one hundred. Hell, even top one thousand. When I reached the peak of the hill, a stretch of flat land greeted me. I held in the urge to run to the middle and twirl around like I was in The Sound of Music. I probably would have, if there not been two other people in plain sight.

  They situated themselves near the edge, overlooking the lake, next to a tree. A gentleman and a woman stared at something on the ground, backpacks beside them, the man holding some sort of an electron
ic contraption. The man, bald and dressed in a polo shirt and jeans, pointed to the screen while the redhead peered over him. She wrote something down on a tiny piece of paper, placed it in a tiny baggie, and reached down and scooped a box off the ground. She held the camouflage box up, while the man grabbed a camera out of his bag and snapped a picture. I turned away as I made eye contact with the woman. Spectacular. She caught me staring.

  I forced my legs to take me to the opposite side of the hill the couple stood on to admire the view, careful not to go all the way to the edge. I pictured the headline already: Sort of attractive woman falls from cliff after legs give out upon paralyzing fear of heights. Still, I did it. I hiked up this huge hill and stood how many feet above the water. I removed my backpack from my shoulders and set it down, taking out my iPad. The picture wouldn’t be perfect since I refused to go all the way to the edge, but with the zoom, I figured I could get a half-way decent panoramic. I held the iPad in mid-air, certain I looked like a weirdo. I’d seen others use their iPads to take photos and they looked stupid. I couldn’t find my digital this morning, though, and didn’t think my phone could do it justice. I clicked to the panoramic option, and began to scan the area, only having to stop when a hair flew into my eye. I tried again, but couldn’t keep my hand steady. Ugh! Screw it. Instead, I snapped five square photos. Someone could piece it together for me later.

  Despite the lack of energy from climbing the hill, I never lacked motivation to eat. I nibbled a granola bar on the way to hiking, but I needed food. I wished there was some sort of an escalator to take me back down, but I had to suck it up and do my best not to tumble to the ground as I went downslope. When I went to shove the iPad back into my backpack, I noticed the couple walking toward me. Chit chat didn’t fit my mood, unless they were able to present me with a five-course meal complete with a glass of wine, which I doubted. I swung the straps back on my shoulders, but as I turned to start down the hill, the woman picked up her pace, and shouted, “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

  Why did people always start conversations with the weather? I’m outside. I know it’s nice out. Or “looks like it’s going to rain.” I’ve seen rain clouds before, thank you. But, I didn’t know these people, and being the only ones up there, I didn’t think testing my sarcasm out on them was the best idea. You never knew how people would react these days.

  “Yes, it is.” I agreed with her, offering the only obvious answer. “Great day for a hike.” The man still held the electronic device in his hand. “What were you two doing, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  The man appeared younger now that he stood closer to me. If I guessed, probably early forties. He wasn’t bald as much as he shaved his head. His stocky build from a distance now came off as strong and muscular. The woman seemed to be close to his age, as well, and quite attractive. Her red lipstick matched her hair. I couldn’t get a good peek at her because she wore an over-sized hoodie, but she definitely was tiny. “Geocaching,” he answered as if I knew what that meant.

  My face must’ve given away my ignorance to the subject as the woman jumped in. “It’s kind of like a treasure hunt,” she explained, and immediately I thought maybe they were pirates. “We use our GPS device to find containers hidden in parks, cemeteries, playgrounds, wherever people put them, really.” I at least knew what a GPS was, but I always used my phone.

  “I’m Colin.” He extended his hand out to me. “This is my wife, Debra. We’ve been doing this since it started over fourteen years ago.”

  I was a pimply faced teenager then. No wonder I had no idea what it was. “So you search for things, and then what? Do you get a prize or anything?” Unless a prize was involved, I didn’t see the point.

  “No prizes. It’s just fun. It’s exhilarating. We’ve spent days searching for one cache, and sometimes we never find them.”

  “Cache?” Did she mean catch? Or cash? If it’s cash, count me in. I didn’t want to sound like an idiot, but I thought we equally sounded like idiots at this point.

  Redhead, rather Debra, laughed. “Sorry, I forget we’re talking to a muggle.” Now I was in a Harry Potter book? “A cache is the treasure we find. They range in size, and sometimes contain fun little items. After we find it, we take a picture with it, like you saw us do before, write down our team name and date in the log, put it back and mark on the geocache website we found it. We can spend hours doing this. It’s quite addicting, actually.”

  “Sounds … interesting.” I put my hands on my hips, ready to start my trek back if I’d ever be freed of this torturous conversation. I suppose I did start it.

  Debra’s eyes lit up and her smile widened. “Oh, it is. We explore so many places we never would have before. We don’t meet a lot of people when we’re out, but when we do, we share some fun stories.”

  Colin put his arm around Debra. “Like the time I was almost sprayed by a skunk, or when you fell into poison ivy.”

  I didn’t think poison ivy sounded like fun, but whatever gets them going, I guess. Right now I only cared about getting down the hill, getting home, and filling my belly. “Well, thanks for the information. I need to get going.” Please don’t offer to walk down with me.

  Colin squeezed Debra closer into his body. “Any time. We’re going to hang up here for a bit before heading to our next cache. Great meeting you.” He held his finger up. “Oh, here.” He reached into his bag and took out a sheet of paper. He peeled off a label and handed it to me. “Here’s our team name. Look us up if you join.”

  Because that was happening. I took the sticker from him, not sure where to even put it. Oh God, their name read BigRed4Eva. Lamest. Team name. Ever. Anxious to get rid of them, I thanked Colin for the contact information and lied about how glad I was to meet them before departing the area.

  I stuck the sticker on my shirt like a name tag. My legs wanted to propel me down the hill, clearly exhausted from the trek up, and pissed off at me for the extended rest time. I found myself increasing my pace the further down I went, the mud slick beneath my feet. The squishiness caught up with me near the end of the hill as my legs gave out and my ass hit the ground, splattering mud on my arms, seeping through my yoga pants, and coating the end of my hair. Great. Gathering any strength left in my legs, I forced myself to an upright position, somehow able to avoid sticking my hand on the ground to hoist me up. My nature hike truly put me one with the Earth, and right now, food had to forgo everything to wash Mother Nature off me.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Yep, a long hot shower did the trick. I cranked that baby up as hot as I could stand, until my skin appeared sunburned when I finally stepped out. The air hit my body, and goose pimples covered me from head to toe. When I wrapped the towel around me, for a second I thought of Josh, and how he met me after my showers, and covered me with a towel in a big hug. After realizing he probably did the same thing with all the other girls he messed around with, including the one I eventually caught him with, “Kandace with a K”, I snapped out of it, the infidelity sending shivers through me.

  My stomach still grumbling, I took my time drying off every inch of my body, taking extra care with my legs and ass. Ugh, I couldn't remember ever being this sore. I wiped the steam from the mirror, and turned to the side, trying to get a good view of my butt. There, against my white, cellulite covered derriere, a misshapen circle of purples and blues tattooed the skin. "Shit." The bruise was hidden away from where people would notice it, but I'd be in pain for a few days, for sure. I finished drying off, throwing on a pair of gray capris and a plain white tee. The edge of the bathtub pressed uncomfortably against my butt as I sat down, and I pulled the towel off my head. I shook it against my scalp before I blow dried and forced a comb through the big mess. I managed though, and fifteen minutes later my dry hair was glad to be free from the pony tail, resting against my back and my shoulders.

  Seven approached much faster than I anticipated, but, still, nothing sounded appealing. Upon leaving my peaceful turned dreadful hike, I was starv
ing, but the hot shower, combined with thoughts of Josh had completely drained my hunger. I opened the refrigerator door, pondering the choices. Grocery shopping was in my immediate future. After settling on mixed berry yogurt and an apple, I slammed the refrigerator door, annoyed with my small kitchen. I didn't expect much from a duplex, but the kitchen left much to be desired. The appliances ran down one side of the room, and I managed to fit a small table against the opposite wall, next to a double doorway leading into the living room. The other wall remained empty. Clutter filled enough of the room without adding more decor. One glance at the hard, wooden chairs at the table, and I bypassed it for the secondhand, only tad more comfortable couch.

  I bit into my apple first, using one hand to eat, the other to click through the channels. I ran through every channel twice before giving up and shutting the television off. The seeds on the apple began to show, so I tossed the remnants in the garbage, and invited my yogurt with me to my desk in the "spare" room. I called it a spare room, though it didn't qualify as much of a room at all, especially since a door didn't exist. The landlord referred to the room as an expansion of the living room, turning it into an "L" shape. Only my desk sans drawers - okay, let's just call a table a table when we see one - occupied the room, along with a few cute photos I hung on the wall. I set my yogurt and spoon on the desk (I'm just going to call it a desk, all right? There is a laptop on it). My laptop remained in sleep mode, so I woke the lazy thing up, hoping it didn't get as cranky as me when someone woke me from a deep sleep. If it started automatically shutting itself down, I'd know I pissed it off.

  I clicked through the websites I visited on a daily basis. Facebook, the local news station to check if anything interesting happened (nothing did), the Humane Society (I so wanted a puppy, but the damn old lady downstairs, also known as my landlord, said no pets, though I was sure a cat hung out in her front windowsill daily. What old lady didn't own a cat?), and I lost myself on Pinterest for a solid twenty minutes, pinning food never to be made, projects to remain in my incomplete pile, and adorable puppies cocking their faces to the side, begging me to adopt them. I polished off my yogurt, boredom taking over. No, I wasn't just bored. I was BORED! All caps, exclamation point.