Akbar grabbed a Walking Man stout and turned to assess the crowd. A couple of the air jocks were in. Carly and Steve were at a little table for two in the corner, obviously not interested in anyone’s company but each others. Damn, that had happened fast. New guy on the base swept up one of the most beautiful women on the planet. One of these days he’d have to ask Steve how he’d done that. Or maybe not. It looked like they were settling in for the long haul; the big “M” was so not his own first choice.
Carly was also one of the best FBANs in the business. Akbar was a good Fire Behavior Analyst, had to be or he wouldn’t have made it to first stick—lead smokie of the whole MHA crew. But Carly was something else again. He’d always found the Flame Witch, as she was often called, daunting and a bit scary besides; she knew the fire better than it did itself. Steve had latched on to one seriously driven lady. More power to him.
The selection of female tourists was especially good today, but no other smokies in yet. They’d be in soon enough…most of them had groaned awake and said they were coming as he and Two-Tall kicked their hallway doors, but not until they’d been on their way out—he and Tim had first pick. Actually some of the smokies were coming, others had told them quite succinctly where they could go—but hey, jumping into fiery hell is what they did for a living anyway, so no big change there.
A couple of the help pilots had nailed down a big table right in the middle of the bustling seating area: Jeannie, Mickey, and Vern. Good “field of fire” in the immediate area.
He and Tim headed over, but Akbar managed to snag the chair closest to the really hot lady with down-her-back curling dark-auburn hair at the next table over—set just right to see her profile easily. Hard shot, sitting there with her parents, but damn she was amazing. And if that was her mom, it said the woman would be good looking for a long time to come.
Two-Tall grimaced at him and Akbar offered him a comfortable “beat out your ass” grin. But this one didn’t feel like that. Maybe it was the whole parental thing. He sat back and kept his mouth shut.
He made sure that Two-Tall could see his interest. That made Tim honor bound to try and cut Akbar out of the running.
Laura Jenson had spotted them coming into the restaurant. Her dad was only moments behind.
“Those two are walking like they just climbed off their first-ever horseback ride.”
She had to laugh, they did. So stiff and awkward they barely managed to move upright. They didn’t look like first-time windsurfers, aching from the unexpected workout. They’d also walked in like they thought they were two gifts to god, which was even funnier. She turned away to avoid laughing in their faces. Guys who thought like that rarely appreciated getting a reality check.
A couple minutes later, at a nod from her dad, she did a careful sideways glance. Sure enough, they’d joined in with a group of friends who were seated at the next table behind her. The short one, shorter than she was by four or five inches, sat to one side. He was doing the old stare without staring routine, as if she were so naïve as to not recognize it. His ridiculously tall companion sat around the next turn of the table to her other side.
Then the tall one raised his voice enough to be heard easily over her dad’s story about the latest goings-on at the local drone manufacturer. His company was the first one to be certified by the FAA for limited testing on wildfire and search-and-rescue overflights. She wanted to hear about it, but the tall guy had a deep voice that carried as if he were barrel-chested rather than pencil thin.
“Hell of fire, wasn’t it? Where do you think we’ll be jumping next?”
Smokies. Well, maybe they had some right to arrogance, but it didn’t gain any ground with her.
“Please make it a small one,” a woman who Laura couldn’t see right behind her chimed in. “I wouldn’t mind getting to sleep at least a couple times this summer if I’m gonna be flying you guys around.”
Laura tried to listen to her dad, but the patter behind her was picking up speed.
Another guy, “Yeah, know what you mean, Jeannie. I caught myself flying along trying to figure out how to fit crows and Stellar jays with little belly tanks to douse the flames. Maybe get a turkey vulture with a Type I heavy load classification.”
“At least you weren’t knocked down,” Jeannie again. Laura liked her voice; she sounded fun. “Damn tree took out my rotor. They got it aloft, but maintenance hasn’t signed it off for fire yet. They better have it done before the next call.” A woman who knew no fear—or at least knew about getting back up on the horse.
A woman who flew helos; that was kind of cool actually. Laura had thought about smokejumping, but not very hard. She enjoyed being down in the forest too much. She’d been born and bred to be a guide. And her job at Timberline Lodge let her do a lot of that.
Dad was working on the search-and-rescue testing. Said they could find a human body heat signature, even in deep trees.
“Hey,” Laura finally managed to drag her attention wholly back to her parents. “If you guys need somewhere to test them, I’d love to play. As the Lodge’s activities director, I’m down rivers, out on lakes, and leading mountain hikes on most days. All with tourists. And you know how much trouble they get into.”
Mom laughed, she knew exactly what her daughter meant. Laura had come by the trade right down the matrilineal line. Grandma had been a fishing and hunting tour guide out of Nome, Alaska back when a woman had to go to Alaska to do more than be a teacher or nurse. Mom had done the same until she met a man from the lower forty-eight who promised they could ride horses almost year-round in Oregon. Laura had practically grown up on horseback, leading group rides deep into the Oregon Wilderness first with her mom and, by the time she was in her mid-teens, on her own.
They chatted about the newest drone technology for a while.
The guy with the big, deep voice finally faded away, one less guy to worry about hitting on her. But out of her peripheral vision, she could still see the other guy, the short one with the tan-dark skin, tight curly black hair, and shoulders like Atlas.
He’d teased the tall guy as they sat down and then gone silent. Not quite watching her; the same way she was not quite watching him.
Her dad missed what was going on, but her mom’s smile was definitely giving her shit about it.
Keeping reading Wildfire at Dawn.
Available at fine retailers everywhere.
About the Author
M.L. Buchman started the first of over 50 novels and even more short stories while flying from South Korea to ride across the Australian Outback. All part of a solo around-the-world bicycle trip (a mid-life crisis on wheels) that ultimately launched his writing career.
Booklist has selected his military and firefighter series(es) as 3-time “Top 10 Romance of the Year.” NPR and Barnes & Noble have named other titles “Top 5 Romance of the Year.” In 2016 he was a finalist for RWA's RITA award.
He has flown and jumped out of airplanes, can single-hand a fifty-foot sailboat, and has designed and built two houses. In between writing, he also quilts. M.L. is constantly amazed at what can be done with a degree in geophysics. He also writes: contemporary romance, thrillers, and SF. More info at: www.mlbuchman.com
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Copyright 2019 Matthew Lieber Buchman
Published by Buchman Bookworks, Inc.
All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the author.
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Cover images:
Stylish blonde girl © Y-Boychenko | DepositPhotos
Racing square background © vska | DepositPhotos
Black Hawk Night Vision © New Jersey National Guard
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