Seamus poured hydrogen peroxide over the bite marks, and I did my best not to wince. Between the chemical smell and the physical sting, my eyes watered.
The shop office was basically a closet with a desk, a chair, and a first aid kit inside the shop where the trucks stayed when the park was closed. It wasn’t the first time I’d been in there, but it was the first time I’d been in there with another person and it was pretty tight.
“Tricky little buggars, bullsnakes. Make themselves look like rattlers,” he said as he wrapped my hand with gauze.
“How do you tell them apart then?” I asked. The air-conditioned shop was cool on one of the last warm days of fall.
“We went through all of this in training.” He sighed.
We had gone through so much in training it made my head spin. I’d taken notes and even looked over them once I’d gotten home, but apparently it hadn’t been enough.
“Bullsnakes don’t have a rattle, so they keep their tails down. Rattlers hold their tails high and proud and shake those bastards like their lives depend on it.” He ripped a strip of tape from the roll with his slightly crooked and coffee-stained teeth. “Rattlesnakes also have white borders around their spots and a triangular shaped head.” A couple more pieces of tape and he was done. “Should heal in no time.”
“Hey there,” Shayla walked into the shop office where I examined my wrapped hand. “Everything okay?”
Seamus stepped away from me as if embarrassed. “No—yes—nothing happened.”
“I think she can see that.” I laughed. “Seamus wrapped my hand after a snake bit me.”
“Oh my goodness, are you okay?” Shayla’s blue eyes widened to the size of a Disney Princess’.
“It was just a bullsnake,” Seamus said.
“I bet it still hurt.” Shayla smiled.
“From the way she was complaining, yeh’d have thought it bit her arm off,” Seamus said. “I should probably get back out to the trails. Yeh closin’ up?” He asked Shayla.
“Yep, me and Antonio.”
“Try to stay out of trouble.” He winked, and her pale skin turned an innocent shade of pink. Antonio was a massive player and loved flirting with the summies, even though he was married, albeit unhappily.
“Antonio’s harmless. Especially after what happened to Kyle. He just hasn’t gotten his spunk back,” Shayla said.
“His best friend was a murderous lunatic,” Seamus said. “Served him right for what he got.”
Anxiety welled in my chest. The mention of Kyle still brought back haunting memories of almost dying.
“Antonio will come around. He needs time,” Shayla said. “But he only has eyes for one summie.”
Both of their gazes turned to me. I smirked. “Whatever. Weren’t you going to get back to the trails?”
“I’m going. I’m going.”
Once Seamus had gone, Shayla looked at me. “Are you and Seamus—”
“No.” I laughed. “No way. He winked at you, not me.”
“He was just being Irish.” She smiled. “Are we still going to work out or are you taking today off?”
We had been utilizing the untouched portion of the shop—the loft—to exercise. The full-timers didn’t use it because the higher-ups had cameras to keep an eye on us, but Shayla and I didn’t mind. Part of me even hoped they were watching so they knew how hard I was working out to be the best full-time ranger applicant.
“I’ll just use my other hand,” I said.
Shayla let out a breath. “Great. Thanks. You know I don’t like to work out on my own.”
“At least you’d have the place to yourself.” I hopped off the table and followed her up the spiral metal staircase. The loft was brightly lit with a couch and TV, some nice new workout equipment, and lockers on one wall.
“I like the company.” She stepped up onto the treadmill and started to walk. Her bright pink tank top showed off her farmers tan from working in the sun all summer in our signature short sleeve button down uniform shirts.
“I bet you’d like it more if it were Seamus . . .”
“Rylie!” She giggled.
“He was totally flirting with you,” I poked.
“He’d never go for a girl like me.”
“What do you mean a girl like you?” I yanked off my boots and uniform shirt and shoved them into the tiny locker that held my workout duffel bag.
“Slightly chunky.” She looked down where her belly had been at the beginning of the summer.
“You’re not chunky. You’ve lost how much now?”
“Almost thirty pounds,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t want him to like me just because I’ve lost weight.”
“I don’t think your weight has any bearing on his affections. Your personality and heart are what make you beautiful.”
“That’s what everyone says about fat people.”
I gasped. “You’re not fat!” We both dissolved into laughter.
When we regained our composures, she asked, “Are you going to work out or just stand there?”
I looked around before dropping my uniform cargo pants, shoving them into the locker and replacing them with a pair of black yoga pants.
From behind me, I heard a low whistle. I spun around to find none other than Antonio staring at my backside.
“You cannot help but disrobe in my presence.” His Italian accent almost made me melt. The tight cotton t-shirt and expensive jeans covered with a pair of black leather chaps accentuated his rock-hard body. He held a helmet under one arm meaning he rode his Ducati to work.
“I had no idea you were there.” I silently thanked the heavens it was laundry day, and the only underwear I had clean were full-coverage boy shorts rather than my usual thong. “What are you doing up here anyway?” I pointed up. “The cameras are still on.”
Antonio lifted an eyebrow but didn’t smile. “I am not the one changing in front of them.”
He had a point.
“I am here to speak with Shayla about our upcoming shift.”
I looked at the clock. “An hour early?”
He shrugged slightly. “It was a nice day for a ride.”
“The Broncos game starts in five minutes. Don’t you and your wife usually
