My first week in Cedar Point is so uneventful that keeping my promise to Nate to avoid trouble is almost too easy. Of course that doesn't stop him from fretting over me like a nervous mother hen as he drops me off in front of the hardware store on Main Street. " Be safe, call me if you need anything," he warns. We've just dropped Kayla and Mila at their schools and Nate is taking Brielle for her annual check-up. Grinning, she waves a chubby hand at me from her car seat.

" Don't worry, I remembered to charge my phone," I holler, waving good-bye to my niece, as I slide out of the SUV. As much as I'll miss the girls, I'm really looking forward to my first day off by myself.

My usual days off are supposed to be Saturday and Sunday. Hayley asked me to work Saturday because once a month she and Nate host a fancy charity luncheon or dinner at their house. The funds they raise for each guest's attendance don't just go towards Hayley's Haven, they also go to other local charities.

Hayley hired a Sushi chef from New York to serve puffer fish, which is poisonous if not prepared properly. She insisted the air of danger associated with the rare fish would appeal to wealthy thrill seekers eager to brag about their latest exploit on social media. She was right. The dinner was a success, raising several thousand dollars.

Of course my job was to amuse the girls and keep them out of the house and out of Hayley's hair. After about eight long hours that consisted of a visit to an indoor trampoline place, a movie, lunch, dinner, and a trip to Ralph's Italian Ices, I was as drained as a marathon runner.

Spending time with the girls secured my cool aunt status, even with Kayla. The extra check Hayley slipped me was an added bonus too. Keeping up with three energetic kids was exhausting. I spent Sunday snoozing, doing laundry, and unpacking the suitcase I had ignored all week while I was busy working. One could only live out of a suitcase for so long.

This morning I woke up determined to enjoy my first actual day off. Alone.

Much to Nate's chagrin I have decided to go hiking, which is why he dropped me off at Handy Hank's Hardware on Main Street to pick up some hiking supplies.

During breakfast Nate attempted to change my mind about hiking because of the snow carpeting the ground. Even though it's the middle of March, it snowed about four inches yesterday. I'm not worried at all. The snow is already melting from the shining sun. Besides, Hayley loaned me a pair of sturdy Sorel snow boots. They're a bit loose on me, so I paired them with a pair of Nate's thick ski socks. Then I filled a rejected L.L Bean backpack Kayla had shoved at the bottom of her closet with water bottles and granola bars for fuel. I'm almost ready for my first adventure in Cedar Point.

I've always wanted to hike through the snowy woods and there is a nature preserve within walking distance to Main Street. I can't help but think of Isaac and his glowing review of this town's nature preserves. Taking care of the girls has kept me busy, so I haven't seen Isaac since my first day in town. Not that I was thinking about him, at least not too much.

A bell chimes as I push open the door to the hardware store. Nate swears this place carries more than tools. It's the only place in town for hiking and outdoor gear, as the nearest sporting goods store is located at the mall thirty minutes away.

Scanning the aisles quickly, I find the one with shelves of hiking, camping, and fishing supplies. I snatch up some necessities; hand warmers, a portable first-aid kit, binoculars, and a fleece neck gaiter that will protect my face from the chill. An open box of gray and purple hiking boots catches my eye. Longingly, I run my finger over the laces. Too bad at a price tag of one-hundred eighty bucks they would eat up a big chunk of my bonus check. With a heavy sigh, I nudge the box back on the shelf, resolved to use my next check to purchase proper hiking boots.

Clutching my armful of scant supplies, I'm about to head towards the register, when a familiar voice stops me in my tracks. " Looks like someone is planning on exploring Cedar Point Preserve?" Isaac drawls, his bright eyes landing on the items in my hands.

At the sound of his voice, my pulse flutters excitedly like the wings of a hummingbird. Rendered speechless, I nod in reply. No man has ever done this to me before. Max used to joke that I could chew his ear off. Isaac Steele's deep rumble, like distant thunder, is a sound I could listen to forever.

" You couldn't have picked a better day," Isaac continues, oblivious to my loss of words. "The woods are even more stunning after a snowstorm."

" Sounds like the start of a poem," I say, recovering my voice.

Isaac's lip curves up, and I realize he has dimples. I'm such a sucker for a guy with dimples. " Photography is as much of an art as poetry." He pats the camera bag slung over his shoulder. " Are you an artist or writer?"

A giggle bursts from my lips because I don't have one artistic bone in my body. Nate and mom used to hate playing Pictionary with me. " I can't even draw a stick figure, " I reply. " But I used to write when I was in college. I started a fashion and travel blog called Quinn's Closet."

" So you are an artist. What inspired you to write a blog?"

" My job. I was working at this upscale boutique called Camila's and I fell in love with the clothes." I pause, reluctant to talk about my former job. Isaac's encouraging smile prods me to continue. " After graduation my supervisor offered me a promotion to manager, so I stayed. Once I worked my way up to regional manager, I got to travel a bit along the East Coast. Naturally, I blogged about it."

" You don't blog anymore?"

I shake my head. " Not anymore. Camila's went out of business and I quit the blog." It's been so long, but the bitter feeling rises in my chest like acid reflux after engorging myself on spicy food. When I started at Camila's, there was no way I could have predicted the trendy boutique would fall victim to the rise in popularity of online shopping.

Foolishly, every time I oversaw another grand opening, I pictured myself climbing the career ladder, just like the owner promised I would. For all their stylish clothes, Camila's couldn't compete with online retailers selling trends for cheap and they went bankrupt. I found myself stuck with forty-thousand dollars worth of student loans I couldn't pay and a useless Sociology degree.

" Quinn, I hope you find something that sparks your passion for writing again," Isaac says gently, pulling me out of my internal pity party and back to the present. His eyes are warm with sympathy, but not pity. I hardly know this man, yet he's more supportive than some of my friends and family have been. Most of them, even Nate, always referred to my blog as my little hobby. Mom still chides me for focusing more on my retail career than on my studies. She thinks I should go back to school for a degree that will land me a 'real' job. 

" Thanks, Isaac. Hey, do you want to come hiking with me?" I ask impulsively.

A grin splits Isaac's scruffy face. " Sure, I was actually headed to Cedar Point Preserve. There's a local art show coming up and I wanted to take some photographs for my exhibit."

I hug my supplies to my chest. " Great, let me just pay for this stuff."

I practically float towards the register, thrilled to have Isaac as my hiking companion. " I'm just going to wait outside." Isaac thrusts his chin towards the exit. That's when I notice the man at the register glaring our way.

" Ok, be right out." I drop my stuff down on the counter, and the grumpy man's icy glare instantly melts away with Isaac's exit from the shop. I wonder what that's all about.

" Did you find everything you were looking for?" Predictably, the cashier's plastic name tag indicates he is Hank J.R. I guess Hank Senior must be the owner and his father. Hank Junior is tall, lanky, with dark gelled hair and aqua-blue eyes. Clad in navy slacks and a light-blue Ralph Lauren polo that makes his eyes pop, there's no denying he's attractive. Too bad his smarmy grin ruins it for me.

" Yeah, I'm good, thank you," I say, eager to complete my transaction and leave.

" Going hiking? " Hank Junior asks, swiping my debit card through the machine. " Hiking is a popular activity around here." 

I nod, determined to speak as little as possible. Hank Junior isn't getting the hint, he keeps talking. He hands me back my card and leans against the counter, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial whisper. " Make sure you stay away from the tinfoil tenters."

I scrunch up my face, wondering if I misheard him. " Excuse me, the tinfoil what?"

Hank reaches over, rifling through a newsstand packed with sports and outdoors magazines. He slaps a local paper on the counter, jabbing a finger at a bold headline: Missing Cedar Point Man Drowned. My eyes rove briefly over photographs of what looks like a tent encampment in the woods and a frozen lake roped off with crime scene tape, surrounded by police officers and park rangers.

" You've got to be new here if you don't know about the tenters." Hank Junior rolls his eyes impatiently. My skin flushes with annoyance. " About two years ago these lunatics started setting up camps in the woods. Some of them were vagrants, some of them just jumped on the living off the grid bandwagon. Anyway, now they have encampments all over the place. No matter how many people complain, they just won't leave. It's bad for tourism." Hank's voice rises with righteous indignation as his rant continues. " A month ago one of them damned tenters disappeared, everyone made a fricken stink about it. Last week they found him drowned in Reed Lake."

" That's terrible," I murmur, glancing at the article.

Hank bags my purchases with a careless shrug. " Honestly, good riddance. Those tenters are all losers and crazy conspiracy theorists if you ask me."

" You didn't ask me," I say coolly, disgusted by his careless attitude. A life was lost, no matter whose it was.

Hank's eyes narrow suspiciously. " Hey, you're not one of them are you? "

" What if I were?" I snap, hands on my hips, not caring at all for the direction this conversation is headed. My eyes cut to the door where Isaac still waits outside for me, clutching two to-go cups in his hands. He must have gotten something for us at the coffee shop next door. He mouths "Are you ok?" to me through the glass. I bob my head to let him know I've got a handle on Hank Junior.

Hank spies our silent exchange. Angers flares in his eyes like a blue flame. " I would watch out for those tenters if I were you, especially Isaac Steele."

" Isaac doesn't live in a tent," I protest, a tad defensively. " Do you even know him?"

" More than you do," Hank spits out. He rolls up the newspaper and shoves it into the shopping bag with more force than is necessary. He sucks in a deep breath. " Listen, I'm sorry, I get fired up talking about them."

"Yeah, sure." I snatch the bag from his outstretched hand. I'll be shopping here again when hell freezes over.

As I turn to leave, Hank's voice drifts after me, sounding almost apologetic. " Seriously, Cedar Point can't afford any more bad press. Just be careful out there, ok? "

What if I'm tired of being careful?