Tip the Scales (Road Trip Romance Book 1) Read online

  Copyright 2019 by A.K. Evans

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, distributer, or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Cover Artist

  cover artwork © Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations

  www.okaycreations.com

  Editing & Proofreading

  Ellie McLove, My Brother’s Editor

  Formatting

  Stacey Blake at Champagne Book Design

  www.champagnebookdesign.com

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Connect with A.K. Evans

  Other Books by A.K. Evans

  About A.K. Evans

  As is the case with any new series, this one is for the loves of my life: my husband and my two boys. I love you.

  Eleanor

  Pandemonium.

  Disorder and confusion.

  I’d seen it before. But never like I did today.

  The worried looks from elderly couples as they walked through the droves of people. The panicked mothers pushing their young children around in shopping carts. Even the men had grave looks of fear plastered on their faces.

  It surprised me. Probably more than it should have.

  Perhaps I should have heeded the warning signs smacking me right in the face. But I really couldn’t imagine it was going to be that bad.

  I didn’t think I was being naïve. I mean, I grew up in southeast Florida. Hurricanes had become commonplace in my life. I knew the panic nature’s fury brought with it. People had the potential to lose their homes when a hurricane hit, so I always felt the fear was justified.

  Three months ago, I left Florida. I was seeking solace from the constant buzz of activity that surrounded me living in West Palm Beach. I was a stone’s throw away from Miami, so it felt like no matter where I went, it was always bustling.

  Being the introvert that I am, I sought out a place that would give me what I needed. Ultimately, I decided that a little town in northern Maine would provide me the peace and quiet I was so desperately seeking.

  It’s not that I don’t like people. I do. I just couldn’t get used to the sheer volume of individuals that were everywhere I went. And outside of my very small circle of friends and family, I found it virtually impossible to meet anyone and strike up new friendships.

  When I arrived in White Pine, a quaint little town in Northern Maine, last October, I took full advantage of having the quiet surround me. I bought a beautiful home on a large piece of land and instantly knew I’d never want to leave.

  So I didn’t.

  Literally.

  Other than the bi-weekly trip to the grocery store, I rarely went out. Of course, I had no plans for it to always be that way.

  The moment spring hit and the weather warmed up, I had every intention of getting out to go exploring.

  I wanted to head south so I could see Maine’s coastal towns and the lighthouses.

  Eastport was high up on my list of places to visit because I wanted to witness the country’s first rays of morning sunshine.

  I planned to hike in Acadia National Park and on Mount Katahdin.

  And I wanted to eat lobster. Lots of lobster.

  But I had time. I didn’t need to do everything all at once. What I needed for the first few months after arriving in Maine was solace. The rest would eventually come, and I’d be able to appreciate it much more after I’d given myself the time I needed to recharge first.

  Right now, though, I was mildly concerned about what I’d just witnessed. Either I hadn’t been getting out enough to realize White Pine residents were just like those in West Palm Beach, or something else much bigger than I had expected was happening.

  I was in my car on my way home from the grocery store. It was my normal day to shop. Unfortunately for me, there were reports of a winter storm approaching. I guess it was expected that the crowds would be larger than usual considering the impending threat, but what I witnessed was just plain insanity.

  And it was alarming.

  Because no matter if the individual was old or young, man or woman, they all had one thing in common.

  Terror.

  I found it concerning mostly because I simply didn’t understand why residents of a community that frequently got snow looked that way. It was as though they all feared they were about to experience a once-in-a-lifetime event.

  On that thought, I figured it was probably best for me to get online when I got home and check out the weather reports. Maybe I’d missed something and overlooked just how severe the storm was expected to be.

  A few minutes later, I turned off the road into my driveway. I stopped at the end to get out and retrieve my mail.

  The moment I closed the door on the mailbox, I heard a familiar voice call out to me. “Did you get yourself all stocked up, Eleanor?”

  I turned around and saw Walter standing there at the end of his driveway across the street from mine, holding his mail in his hands.

  Walt was one half of the elderly, but still spunky, couple that greeted me the day I moved in. His wife, Betty, was the other.

  I adored them.

  And I instantly warmed hearing Walt call me Eleanor. Of course, it was my name. But nobody really called me Eleanor. It was either Ella, in the case of my friends, or Nora, in the case of my family. I explained this months ago when I moved in, but Walt insisted on Eleanor.

  “What’s wrong with Eleanor?” he asked when he and Betty had me over for dinner two weeks after I’d arrived in town.

  “There’s nothing wrong with it,” I insisted, hoping he believed me. “I think it’s pretty. Really, I do. Please don’t take any offense, but sometimes I think it just makes me sound like I’m older than I am.”

  “But look at you, dear,” Betty exclaimed. “You’re a spring chicken if I ever saw one.”

  “Yeah, I have to agree,” Walt chimed in. “Any man I know would take one look at you and not have a single thought that involved you being old.”

  I felt myself blush.

  Betty swatted at Walt’s shoulder and ordered, “Ignore him. If you prefer Ella or Nora, we’ll call you that.”

  “Speak for yourself, woman. Eleanor’s a classic, timeless name. A gorgeous one for a gorgeous girl.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at their banter. Once I managed to get myself under control, I stated, “I’m okay with whatever you want to call me. Any of the three names will work.”

  The memory of meeting my first real friends in town flitted out of my mind as fast as it came in. I snapped out of it and looked to Walt.

  “Hi, Walt,” I greeted him. “I am all stocked up, but only because it’s my normal day to go shopping. It was absolute craziness out there today.”

  “I’m not surprised to hear that,” he declared. “But it’s good you’re all set. I suspect you’ll be grateful for that over the next few days.”


  Smiling at him, I agreed, “I’m sure I will. Are you and Betty good? Is there anything I can do to help either of you out?”

  Walt shook his head. “We’ve lived here all our lives, dear. We know what to expect and prepare for the worst each time. We’ll get through this one, too.”

  I wasn’t sure if I should share that I didn’t quite understand all the hysteria. Walt probably would have rallied Betty and instituted a sit-down at my place where they’d explain everything I seemed to be oblivious to. It wasn’t that I’d mind a visit from them; I’d just prefer to not put them through the trouble.

  “I have no doubts,” I assured him. “Well, I better get inside so I can get my groceries put away. I’ll talk to you later, Walt. Please tell Betty I said hello.”

  “Will do,” he promised. “Stay warm, Eleanor.”

  With that, I got back in my car and drove the several hundred feet up my mostly straight but gradually inclined driveway to my home.

  My home.

  One that I was particularly proud to own.

  This was mostly because I’d worked my butt off to be able to afford it. I didn’t splurge on much, but I knew that if I was making a move, I was going to make one into a beautiful place. I drove through the neighborhood months ago and instantly fell in love. With the homes, of course. I loved mine, but there were some that were far more exquisite. Not that I’d been in any of them at the time. I just knew. Anyone who saw them would know.

  What I loved most about mine was the view. That view wasn’t some majestic sweeping landscape, though. It was simply a view of my favorite home in the neighborhood. The one that belonged to my next door neighbor.

  My handsome, manly, sexy neighbor. I didn’t know a thing about him other than the fact that he was breathtaking and that I wanted to marry him. Never in my life had I ever seen a man so rugged. And it wasn’t until I saw him that I realized he was exactly the kind of man I wanted for myself.

  Sure, he could have been a serial killer, but I found it unlikely.

  Especially since Walt and Betty had invited me to have dinner with them and Max.

  Initially, I’d agreed to dinner with them. But that was before I knew that Max would be joining us. As soon as I found out, I knew I’d have to come up with an excuse. So, on the morning of the big day, I called them to let them know I wasn’t feeling well.

  It wasn’t exactly a lie.

  The truth was, I did feel sick.

  Because even though I’d seen Max from a distance, I knew he was perfect. So perfect that I was certain I’d end up making a fool of myself. I woke up that morning feeling sick to my stomach at the prospect of meeting him. Perhaps most people would have looked at that as a good thing.

  I did not.

  When it came to meeting new people, I didn’t have a problem…especially if they made the first approach. But meeting men was something else entirely.

  I’d given up long ago. I was never the type of woman who’d make the first move for fear of rejection. The thought was paralyzing. And when it came to approaching me, most men never made the move. Especially once they learned who I was.

  If there were one man I’d want to make the move on me, though, it was Max. I just wasn’t sure I’d ever put myself in a position for that to happen. Because if we actually did meet and he rejected me, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to handle it. Anyone else, I wouldn’t care. But Max was something else entirely.

  So, I resolved myself to the fact that I could be happy watching him occasionally if he were outside doing work around his house. At least then I could live in a fantasy and always have hope.

  After making a few trips back and forth from the garage into the house with my groceries, I unpacked them and put them away. When I finished a few minutes later, I immediately went to the television and found the news. No sooner did I sit down to listen when I heard my cell phone ringing in the other room.

  I hopped up off the couch and moved back to the kitchen to retrieve it from my purse.

  “Hey, Mom,” I greeted after looking at the display and seeing her name there.

  “Hi, Nora. I wanted to call and make sure you got your shopping done. Your father told me they’re calling for a big storm up there,” she replied.

  I shook my head in disbelief and laughed. “Yes, I went shopping. And I’m convinced that at least half the town was at the store with me.”

  “I’m not surprised to hear that,” she began. “They’re saying it’s supposed to be really bad. And if it does what they are calling for, it could be one of the worst in the state’s history.”

  “Really?” I asked, not doing a good job hiding my surprise.

  After a moment of silence, she asked, “How do you not know this, Nora?” My mother was clearly alarmed, and perhaps she was even a bit frustrated with me.

  Even though she couldn’t see me, I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been busy working this week.”

  Beyond daily email checks and minor work-related tasks, I didn’t work every day. But occasionally, I’d have bigger projects that took up my time and attention. And my mother knew that when I had something like that that I was working on, I stayed focused for extended periods of time.

  “Okay. Well, as long as you have everything you need to hold you over for a few days if it gets bad. Plus, even if the power goes out, you have your generator.”

  “Exactly,” I agreed. “I’m not really worried at this point. But if it makes you feel better, I actually just turned on the television and I’m going to listen to the news reports. I’ll heed all the warnings.”

  Hesitating a moment, my mom finally replied, “That does make me feel better. Please check in with us over the next few days. I just want to know you’re okay.”

  I rolled my eyes at her overprotectiveness. I realized I was her daughter and only child and that I was far away, but I was still a grown adult. I often wondered if there was an age when she’d finally recognize the fact that I could take care of myself. No matter how many times I contemplated it, I always came to the same conclusion. She’d never stop worrying, so I’d always be sure to quell her fears. “I will, Mom. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Okay. Love you, Nora.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Disconnecting the call with my mom, I sat back down on the couch and listened to the weather reports. Ten minutes later, I understood precisely why everyone at the store seemed to be filled with dread.

  My mom was right. Apparently, this storm was expected to be serious. Because reporters were showing images of a storm that hit Maine twenty-two years ago. That storm left devastation and destruction in its wake. And the storm that was heading for us now was expected to be worse than that one.

  Now, it all made sense.

  The utter looks of despair and terror on the faces of everyone at the store. Walt’s insistence that I’d be thankful for the provisions I’d picked up. My mom calling to check on me because even my parents knew.

  I bolted up off the couch and flew into panic mode. The storm was expected to start within the next two and a half hours.

  The first thing I did was run outside to check the gauge on the propane tank. Sure, I had a generator, but without any propane to run it, it wouldn’t do me any good. The gauge read thirty pounds of pressure. It wasn’t great, but at least it was better than nothing. I ran back inside and quickly searched online for the number to the company that would come and fill my tank. It was a few minutes past five o’clock in the evening. They had just closed. Even still, I decided to try my luck. Worst case, I’d leave a message and hopefully they’d be able to make it out to fill my tank tomorrow.

  As I suspected, they didn’t answer. I left a message explaining my predicament, asked them to call me back, and moved on to my next task.

  As much as I had hoped I wouldn’t have to do it, that task involved making a call to my parents.

  “Hello?” my dad answered.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Nora? What’s going on, s
weetheart?” he asked. “Your mom said she just talked to you.”

  I swallowed hard, wondering if I should even ask. I really didn’t want to worry my parents, but I needed his advice.

  Doing my best to keep any panic or worry out of my tone, I replied, “Yeah. I just had a question for you, though. I was watching the weather reports and realized that they’re anticipating extended power outages with this storm that’s heading this way. I hadn’t realized they were expecting it to be so severe. Anyway, it got me thinking about my generator and the propane I have in the tank. I just went out to check the gauge, and I’ve only got thirty pounds of pressure. How long do you think that’ll last me?”

  “That was a standard size tank, from what I recall. Thirty pounds of pressure remaining in a hundred-gallon tank…” He trailed off. “Nora, I can’t say for sure, but probably anywhere from eight to twelve hours depending on the electric draw and your specific generator.”

  Oh no.

  Based on reports, people were without power for at least a week twenty years ago. Some went longer than that. Especially those who were farther away from town.

  People like me.

  “Right,” I answered cheerfully, not wanting to alarm him. “Good to know.”

  “You’re scared, Nori,” he immediately responded, evidently picking up on my nervousness.

  Damn.

  He always knew. No matter how hard I tried to hide it, my dad always knew when I was worried. And I knew he knew when he called me Nori.

  “Dad,” I whispered.

  “Darling, listen,” he began. “You’re Eleanor Page. You’re my daughter, and you are going to be fine. Call the gas company and get on their schedule for the first available spot they have open. If your power goes out, conserve your resources. Don’t use your electricity unless it’s absolutely necessary. Heat is a necessity; watching movies is not. Your mom told me you went to the store and stocked up on food. If you can make extra meals tonight, do it. The stove will have a larger electric draw than the microwave. If you can avoid using both by getting by on things that you won’t need to heat up, that’s even better. And since everything in that house is electric, Nora, you should probably fill at least one of your bathtubs with water. You’ll be able to flush your toilets that way.”