Page 1 of Fake Date with the Mountain Man

Chapter 1

MARLOW

Like most kids, I once had a long list of potential future careers: zookeeper, ballerina, teacher, florist. At one point, I aspired to the lofty ambition of professional dog washer. Not a groomer…just someone who washes dogs.

But not once did I imagine myself working for the Forest Service.

And not one person on this entire planet would mistake me for a forest ranger…but here I am.

On my first day of work, I wore a dress. Not because I was totally clueless about what I’d gotten myself into, but because I don’t own any dress pants. It seemed pointless to buy some when I knew I would be issued a uniform on my first day anyway.

Two months later, I still stick out like a sore thumb here. The uniform looks and feels a lot like a Halloween costume on me.

It doesn’t help that somehow in 2022, in the year of our Lord and a female Vice President, they do not make forest ranger uniforms in women’s sizes. Consequently, the pants fit me like a tube of wrapping paper. They’re baggy on my waist and thighs, butohmyGodsotighton my hips that bending over is out of the question. If I drop something, I will have to lay flat on the ground in order to retrieve it.

And then I will have to choose between rolling away in shame (and possibly straight into traffic) or simply dying there eventually.

On my chest, pinned to my scratchy sage green polyester shirt, is a little silver name badge that reads:Marlow Stephens, Volunteer Coordinator, US Forest Service. Whenever I start to question what the hell I’m doing here, I run my finger over the engraved letters, take a deep breath, and tell myself that I made the right choice. This is a fresh start and I need to make the most of it.

_____

It’s a quiet Thursday morning at the Great Smoky Mountain Ranger Station. The mid-week lull is upon us. Most of the tourists have already exhausted themselves with their endless lists of activities, and a new batch of visitors won’t arrive until the weekend.

The lobby is empty when I step inside, aside from Emmett at the front desk. He gives me an unenthusiastic nod as I enter the building, but I know it’s nothing personal. He’s just sick of being stuck there all day, handing out the same map and answering the same questions.

My office is down a long hallway in the back of the building, directly across from the employee break room. This has its pros and cons.

On the pro side: coffee, the deliciously hot nectar of life.

On the con side: Ryan Ehler, fellow coffee enthusiast and a strong contender for the Asshole of the Year Award.

Lured by that familiar final gurgle of the coffee maker and the promise of a freshly brewed pot, I bypass my office completely and make a beeline straight into the break room.

And there he is, the Asshole of the Year himself.

He’s laughing about something with a ranger named Jack, but his smile fades as soon as he sees me. Ryan shoots me the same scathing look that he always does. His jaw clenches and his lips curl down into a frown. His narrowed eyes are quick to find me and then slow to peel away from me in disgust.

It’s a look that conveys exactly what he thinks of me. No more and no less.

It screams ‘you don’t belong here.’

As if I’m not already completely aware of that fact. I’ve had a lifetime of knowing where I don’t belong. It’s my sixth sense, and it tingles every time I walk into this building.

Deep breath, Marlow.

“Good morning,” I say in a cheery voice that I barely recognize as my own. To Jack, it probably sounds like a normal human greeting. But to Ryan, it is intended to convey the following message:I want to pour this scalding hot coffee on top of your head.

He seems to receive my silent transmission and takes a full step away from the coffee maker. Jack returns my greeting with a quick ‘Mornin’’ and a tilt of his coffee cup. Then he flees.

I’m embarrassed to say that my feud with Ryan is not exactly subtle. Some people like to stay and watch, while others prefer to run far, far away whenever we’re in a room together.

At the risk of sounding childish, I don’t want to say that Ryan started it. So, I will say this instead: Ryanbeganit. He took one look at me when I walked in and rolled his eyes. And okay, fine – I get it – I wore a dress to a job that traditionally involves lots of nature and dirt and physical labor. But to be fair, I was hired to manage the volunteers and summer interns, not fight forest fires and wrangle bears.

As luck would have it, I quickly learned that Ryan would be training me since he was the last person to hold the position of Volunteer Coordinator. This afforded us lots of time togetherto pinpoint all the ways in which we do not like each other. The light at the end of the tunnel was the fact that Ryan was transitioning into a law enforcement role with the agency. Once my training was complete, he would be spending most of his time in the field…far, far away from the office.

Yet here he is.

All. The. Time.

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