“How else do you think we’d keep the trucks clean?” Ben shrugged. “And then in here, we have our offices.”
He opened a door that led to several cubicles and a large round table with chairs surrounding it. The smell of cologne and Doritos hit my nose, reminding me of the firehouse.
“But the best part is in the loft . . .” he looked up.
My gaze followed his to where a metal railing cordoned off a large section above the offices. When we got to the top of the spiral staircase, the expanse opened up into a recreational area. There was a pool table, workout equipment, a worn leather sofa, a large flat screen TV, and two cots with a white blanket and pillow folded nicely at the foot. And a small kitchenette sported a mini fridge.
“They made this because they thought it’d make us hang out here during our time off. Make us more available if something happened and the rangers on duty needed backup.”
“And did you?”
“Not really. I mean, sometimes we do, but it’s not like we can enjoy a beer and watch the game. Alcohol is expressly forbidden. Plus there’s cameras.” He pointed to a far corner. “Why would we want to hang out when Big Brother’s watching?”
He had a point. What a waste of space.
“And over here we have the locker rooms, storage closets, and training rooms. This is where you’ll go through your summer ranger training.”
I nodded and tried to take it all in. The space was well designed. It almost felt like a hip club, without the alcohol, of course.
“I set aside a uniform for you,” He pointed to one of the chairs in the training room where a pile of clothes lay unfolded. “Go in and try it on. It probably won’t be perfect, but summies don’t get much other option.”
“Summies?” I quirked an eyebrow at him.
He let out a booming laugh. “Summer rangers. We call them summies.”
Muddy Water Bandit? Summies? They needed serious help coming up with nicknames.
Not only was the uniform not perfect, it was practically unwearable. The pants were at least two sizes too big and the shirt had stains that could rival those of my Uncle Jeff’s—an over-the-road truck driver with a hole in his lip. Thankfully, the belt had already been outfitted with various holsters, and it cinched tight enough to keep my pants from settling in around my ankles.
“Not too shabby,” Ben said when I emerged from the bathroom. “But where’s the hat?”
I pulled out the most disgusting hat I’d ever seen. “It smells like someone died in it.”
“Nah, no one’s died here in years.” Ben chuckled. “A quick run through the dishwasher, and it’ll be good as new.”
I seriously doubted my mother was going to let such filth anywhere near her dishwasher, let alone in her house. I pulled my long, freshly highlighted blonde hair into a ponytail and out the back of the hat, promising myself I’d shower and run the hat through a gallon of bleach when I got home.
Ben’s black Chevy let out a low rumble when he turned the key, and Christmas music blared from its Bose speakers. Interesting use of taxpayer money, but hey, I didn’t live in this city.
“Sorry about that. I’m a Christmas-all-the-time kind of guy. That’s part of the reason I hired you.” He turned the radio down.
Only part of me felt bad that I’d exaggerated my love of Christmas music. At least it had gotten me the job. I made a mental note to thank Carmen.
“Now, normally we don’t ride together. It’s a waste of resources to have us both in one truck. But since I’m training you, the rules are different. When we’re out on patrol, we’re not only looking for people doing something wrong. We also answer questions, help out, and even make small talk. Fishermen love to talk. Especially with the female rangers.”
I bet they did.
We began our daily route from the large shop where the ranger trucks were parked at night when the park was closed. The lake, a striking shade of blue, reflected the nearly cloudless sky. Sailboats and kayaks floated along lazily while fishermen dotted the shorelines.
“You met Antonio and Kyle, right?” He grinned but didn’t take his eyes off the road.
“Yeah, they’re—”
“Quite the pair.”
“Oh, they’re . . . together?” How had I missed that?
Ben inhaled sharply and began choking on his spit. “If they heard you thought—” He tried to keep talking but his face was turning red from laughter and a lack of oxygen. “No. No.” He shook his head and veered the truck to one side allowing a bike to pass. “They’re just friends.” He finally regained part of his composure. “They’re both married. To women.”
“Married?” I didn’t know what was more disappointing, the thought of Antonio being gay or married.
Ben quirked an eyebrow at me. “Antonio gave you the goo-goo eyes, didn’t he?” He shook his head. “That’s just like him. Always flirting with the summies.”
Heat rose in my cheeks. It wasn’t as if I was looking for a relationship at this point anyway. But knowing I was just one in a handful of flirtations stung.
“If I could give you one bit of advice, it would be to stay away from him. He’s nothing but trouble. It’s a wonder his wife puts up with his antics.”
“Noted.” I plastered on a smile and changed the subject. “I heard over the radio the other day that you’re dealing with a Muddy Water Bandit?”
“Yep.” Ben took a turn around a corner and a row of gigantic houses appeared beyond the park fence line. “Someone has been trapping catfish—or at least trying to—in the back of Muddy Water Cove. We’ve removed several traps, but it hasn’t stopped. This lake is home to some of the biggest catfish in the state.”
“Yeah, I read about the state record
