by Zoe York
“Hello,” she said cheerfully. “Are you here to apply for the summer position?”
The kid nodded.
“Maybe,” the older man asked. “His teacher suggested it.”
Ah. So this was the student Will mentioned. She held out her hand. “I’m Catie. And you are?”
“Sam.” He shoved the resume at her, then his hand, in an awkward one-two move.
She shook his hand and took the piece of paper. No job experience, but basketball team at his old school and some volunteer experience.
“He’s new in town. I’m his dad.”
Catie took in the dirt under the father’s fingernails, the grease stain on his workpants. “Do you have any concerns about the position?”
“He’s just a kid.”
She nodded. “I get it. That’s why I only posted for a part-time position. My first job was at Mac’s Diner, when I was in grade nine. You’re in grade ten, Sam? So around the same age.”
“He doesn’t know anything about hair cutting.”
Dad could stop talking for Sam any time now, but she figured that would be easier if Sam spoke for himself, too. Catie caught the eye of the teenager. “You don’t need to know anything about hair. Do you know how to use a broom?”
He laughed a little, caught by surprise. “Of course.”
“That’s what I need help with the most. Sweeping up as I’m cutting hair, and then at the end of the day, too. I’m looking for someone who can come in three hours a day, Tuesday through Friday, and four hours on Saturday and Sunday. I’m closed on Mondays. If you want two days off, you can have Sunday off, too.”
“I want to work.”
“Okay.” She glanced at the resume. “I can call you at this number?”
“That’s my Dad’s phone. I don’t have a phone yet.”
“That’s fine. I’m collecting resumes until the end of the week, and then I’ll make a decision.” She gave him what she hoped would be received as an encouraging smile. “I’m glad you came in, Sam.”
Will spent the last day of school, a Thursday, going classroom to classroom, listening to excited chatter about summer plans and watching his team make a celebration out of the final echoes of the curriculum. In January’s grade ten math class, he was thrilled to hear Sam had a summer job, and even happier when he learned where it was.
He owed Catie a beer. Or a bag of trail mix.
At dismissal, he headed out to the front walk, and high fived as many kids as he could on their way to their bus.
Sam was one of the last kids out. He pointed to a pickup truck in the parking lot. “My dad’s picking me up today. He wanted me to thank you for the job referral.”
“It was my pleasure. Have a good summer, okay?”
“I’ll try.” Sam grinned. “You should come in to the salon when I’m working there. It would be fun to see Catie give you a new haircut.”
“You mean Ms. Berton.”
Sam laughed. “She said I can call her Catie.”
Of course she did. “That sounds like her.”
That conversation was the first thing he thought of when she arrived at training that night wearing bright green leggings and a blue buttoned-down workshirt that had her name spelled out on the back of it in big, silver letters.
He couldn’t resist. He cornered her by the coffee urn. “Where do you get these outfits?”
“WillWontLikeThis.com.”
“I like it. I don’t understand it, but…” He shrugged. “What’s not to like?”
“You made a big deal about not wearing all black.” She gave him a look like she thought he was dumb. “When I was wearing all black. So…”
Oh. He was dumb. “That wasn’t about you.”
“No, I mean, I know that. It wasn’t just about me.”
“It wasn’t about you at all.”
“You looked right at me.”
He looked at her all the time. But he probably shouldn’t say that. “Then I owe you an apology. But don’t stop wearing the outlandish outfits. I like them a lot.”
She rolled her eyes, but she smiled, and that made him smile, too.
Then she looked at him expectantly.
He stared back. “Do I have something on my face?”
“No.”
“Why are you looking at me like that, then?”
“Because you owe me an apology.”
“I…gave it to you.”
“No, you didn’t.” She huffed. “You said, Then I owe you an apology. And moved on as if you had delivered that apology, without actually doing it. Which is—and I realize at this point I’m making quite a big deal about a thing that was not actually a thing, from your point of view, but I’m just saying, this is very on brand for Will Kincaid.”
Then she turned and walked away.
Not angrily. The little huff was the only part of that which had actually sounded annoyed. The rest had sounded…resigned. And the walk was dismissive. Like she was done with him.
Ah, shit.
The chances of her accepting beer or trail mix from him were slim to none now.
But as soon as the training night was called to order, she acted as if nothing had just happened between them. Tonight they were running exercises similar to what Tom expected for the gear assessment in the competition.
All the trainees had brought their backpacks, and while Tom answered their final questions about the best way to pack them for this exercise, Will, Tobin and Yolanda headed into the woods, each taking a separate path. Today the trainees were going to work together in pairs to simulate a hasty team response. They knew the estimated location of the person being rescued—in this case, Will lying on a boulder at the mouth of a small rocky cave.
When he was a kid, this cave had seemed massive, and he’d loved exploring it for hours with his brothers.
He was deep in a memory of his mother laughing in delight as she watched them play when he heard footsteps approaching rapidly.
Speed wasn’t always a factor in SAR evaluation, but for purposes of the competition, this event would be timed. Catie and Lore apparently took that seriously, running at top speed to the edge of the rock field that littered the mouth of the cave.
Will slipped into his role. “Help,” he said, trying to raise his left arm before letting it fall back to the boulder.
“We’re with the Pine Harbour Search and Rescue Team,” Catie said quickly. “Hold still and we’ll come to you.”
They carefully but quickly made their way to him, then took off their backpacks. This was where they would decide what gear they could use to help him successfully.
“We should do a focused spine assessment first,” Lore said, pulling out her booklet. She asked him his name, where he was, what time of day it was, and then what had happened to him.
“I was climbing down from there…” Will tried again to use his left arm, and moaned. “Ah. Ouch. There. And I fell against this rock.”
“Did you hit your head?”
“No. Just my side.”
Catie focused in on his arm, as intended. “The left side? I’m going to check your fingers, okay?”
She checked his fingertips for oxygen, finding them “nice and pink.” Then she moved around his body, taking off his shoes to check his feet and other hand as Lore stabilized his neck.
By Will’s estimation, it took them two minutes to be confident he didn’t have a spine injury and focus in on a possibly broken arm. They worked together to help him sit up, then Lore gave him some water and pretend acetaminophen while Catie pulled out her first aid kit.
“Oh shit,” she muttered. Avoiding Will’s curious gaze, she looked at Lore. “I only have a small sling. How about you?”
Lore checked her bag. “Damn it. Same.”
Catie stretched the fabric out wide, but her initial assessment was correct. It was too small to be used effectively to stabilize his arm.
She propped her hands on her hips, glaring in turn at him and her backpack, like she wasn’
t sure who to be grumpier with—her pack for not magically having the right size sling, or him for being too damn big.
He didn’t bother to point out that she was the one who stocked the first aid pack, and this was exactly why they did these exercises. Also, it was a classic mistake he’d made at least once, too. Murphy’s Law demanded that if supplies were sized, you wouldn’t have the right one at the wrong time.
And Kincaid’s Law demanded that if you had cocky thoughts about a woman who got under your skin, she would immediately find a way to scatter those thoughts and leave you tongue-tied.
Catie stripped off her shirt, leaving her in a tight tank top, slick against her skin. “Here. We can use this as a sling instead.”
After knotting it, she leaned in, close enough he could feel her warmth and catch the faint scent of her skin. All thoughts were definitely scattered now, because she smelled good and felt even better as she carefully fit it around his neck and under his arm.
That was inconvenient. You have a broken arm, you’re a hiker with a broken arm, he repeated to himself.
They checked his legs, double-checked his head and neck again, before letting him stand with their assistance.
“Take it slow. We’ve got you.”
“But not too slow,” Catie muttered, trying not to smile. “I think we were the first to find our victim.”
“Missing person,” Will corrected automatically. “Victim makes it sound like you murdered me.”
“Maybe that’s the plot twist.” Catie sounded far too delighted at the possibility, so he kept his mouth shut as they helped him over the rocks and down to the smooth path. Then they scampered back for their backpacks, before escorting him back to the training centre.
As they had hoped, they were the first ones back, and Tom was pleased with their after action report.
Then he turned to Will, whose arm was still braced in Catie’s shirt. “How’d they do?”
“Other than needing a different size sling, they had what they needed in their bags, and they worked quickly and efficiently together.”
“I thought we would need to use more stuff for this exercise,” Lore said. “I thought about pulling out the survival blanket to keep you warm, for example. Should we have done that?”
That was a good question. Will should have thought of that feedback, but from the second Catie hooked her shirt around his neck, he’d been a bit distracted. “Yep, good idea.” He cleared his throat. “The focus on speed may have been a distraction.”
Catie’s flushed face fell.
Shit.
“Hard to know in a competitive space,” he tried to recover, but Tom agreed with his previous statement.
“No, I think Will’s right. This kind of head-to-head set up is a bit of a trick. Not an intentional one,” he added when Lore protested with a laugh. “But taking the time to do the field assessment carefully is more important than the speed of the recovery. If you are with the found person, and they are stable and safe, going through all the motions is probably going to score you higher than moving quickly. But it’s a judgement call.”
“They did a good focused spine assessment,” Will offered, but Catie didn’t seem to hear the compliment. She was chewing on her lip, and he felt like shit for dumping on her clear success. He eased his arm out of the makeshift sling, and found himself inhaling the scent of her shirt as he lifted it over his head.
She wants to murder you already, don’t give her legitimate reasons to think you’re a pervert as well as an insensitive non-apologizer and an overly critical teammate.
He handed it back to her as an excuse to get her attention. “Seriously, that was a great job.”
“I feel awful that I didn’t have a sling,” she admitted. “And I was the one who was focused on speed.”
“I would have been, too. It’s the nature of the exercise. But don’t feel bad about the sling. You used what you had and you got the job done. That would have scored well, too, but more importantly, it would have helped someone in real life. Good job.”
She finally beamed at him, and Tom, then gave Lore a high five.
“That deserves a drink to celebrate,” the bartender said.
“Do you want to go to the pub on your night off?”
“I don’t mind, if you’re up for it.” As the next team returned from the woods, the women moved away, making plans to go to The Green Hedgehog. Will focused on the next successful recovery. This team had used their portable saw to help get Tobin out from under a fallen tree. He’d made them carry him back on a makeshift stretcher, and their ingenuity was impressive.
Once training was finished, Catie and Lore announced their plans to go out for a drink, and invited everyone else to join them.
Will wanted to. He almost said yes, but it was a work night. Even though school was done for the year, teachers and administrators had a busy day ahead. Besides, something told him Catie would have more fun if he wasn’t there. Instead, he hung back to help Tom tidy up after everyone left.
“You didn’t want to join them?” his friend asked.
Want had nothing to do with it.
“I have an early meeting tomorrow. I should get home and to bed.” He stacked the chairs to the side of the room. “How about you?”
“Kids are teething. And I haven’t seen Chloe all day.” Tom grinned.
Will understood. His friend was married to the town’s librarian, and they had twin toddlers. “Then let’s get out of here. You have a family to get to.”
Whereas Will had an empty house, as his brothers would say.
Once upon a time, he’d been proud of his house. He’d bought it not long after becoming a teacher, safe and secure in the knowledge his career path was set. It had been a new build at the time, in a small subdivision of similar new homes on the edge of town.
He had enough room that Josh lived with him in the winter, when it was cold in the apartment at the garage, and Adam had too, after he finished firefighter school but before he bought a house of his own.
Now, though, it was quiet.
He headed upstairs to his bedroom, peeling off his clothes. It was only his imagination that his shirt carried the scent of Catie’s makeshift sling on it. He dropped it in the hamper outside his bathroom, and climbed into the shower.
As the steam seeped under his skin, he closed his eyes and pictured her at the bar, laughing and commiserating with her fellow trainees about what a critical ass he was.
And he wished he was there, so she could throw those barbs right at him. Stare him down and make him apologize for real, because she deserved it.
Chapter Seven
The high of a good training session lasted exactly thirty-six hours. It fizzled out, hard, when Catie closed up shop early on Sunday, because it was a gorgeous day and she didn’t have any appointments for the last two hours.
So she set off by herself in search of a newly popular cave near Lion’s Head.
It was a perfectly reasonable plan. She was going on a marked trail that wasn’t too advanced. Except when she arrived at the trail head, the small parking area she expected to use was marked as resident-only, with the threat of a hundred dollar fine.
She snapped a picture of that egregiousness, and got back in her car. A quick review of the map on her phone showed a couple of other options, so she headed off, looking for another access point. When she found one with a good size lane that had no visible signs prohibiting her parking, she added a pin to her map, marking her GPS coordinates.
As far as she could tell from this direction, the cave was just off the trail. Except “just” was an exaggeration.
This wasn’t a big deal at first. But then the weather turned, and the terrain looked totally different as the sky darkened, an unexpected thunderstorm fast approaching—so she took cover under a rock outcropping.
And the rocks blocked the weak phone signal she had had before.
When she returned to the path—well, this was where she had to admit it was a bigge
r deal than she’d first assessed.
Up until that point, it was just a sequence of bad luck moments. But then she violated the number one rule of search and rescue.
She kept moving. Instead of stopping where she was as soon as she realized she wasn’t sure of her location, she kept going, trying to regain her phone signal. She managed to restore it, but not a strong enough signal to make her maps app work again. So when she finally admitted to herself what she’d known deep down for a while, she didn’t have any reliable landmarks to convey to anyone she might call.
Which meant that she not only really needed to call someone, it would be a humble pie phone call on top of that.
She tried Lore first. No dice.
Then she scrolled through her phone book, trying to pick the next best candidate. One of the other newbies, Jeong, was a top contender, but she could just imagine the stern, disappointed look on Will’s face if—when—he found out she dragged another trainee into her mishap.
Also, if Jeong or Lore called her in this exact same situation, she would make an emergency SOS call to Tom, do not pass GO, do not collect $200. It was a no-brainer.
So she really shouldn’t have tried to trick Lore into helping her on the down low, and if her friend called back, she’d have to dodge the call.
If she was going to rope anyone into helping her in secret, it would have to be someone fully trained. Someone capable, and someone who had his own reasons for keeping Catie’s secrets.
For one thing, Will owed her. Well, he owed her an apology, not a rescue, but it was still a debt. And she knew how strongly he felt about other people’s safety. She felt a momentary pang of guilt at her instinct to take advantage of his deep sense of responsibility, but it was overridden by her even stronger desire to not be stuck in the forest after dark.
And if Will called Tom, well, she’d have to live with that embarrassment.
She said a quick prayer to the phone signal Gods, then dialled his number. He picked up immediately. “Catie?”
“Hi.” There was a lot of noise in the background where he was. “Are you busy?”