Through his sister, he had promised her a challenging job, and he’d delivered. With the amazing quality of the Firebirds’ fleet and hiring a mechanic with Maggie’s skills, he’d promised safety. And for not being a total guy jerk—actually, not being one at all—that swept her feet right out from under her.
Then there was the kiss. His arms slid around her like they belonged and he eased her in against a chest that felt every bit as wonderful as it looked.
A part of her argued that this was a dumb idea because hadn’t she just this evening told her friends that she wasn’t interested in any men? Okay, maybe she hadn’t told them, but she’d thought it really hard.
For all his macho and firefighter ego, he kissed like a movie-screen lover—long, slow, and perfect. On further testing, he was better than that because he was so impossibly real.
At length she sighed and lay her head on his shoulder as he toyed with her hair.
“You taste incredible.”
“Like beer and pizza. I know what a man likes.”
His chuckle rippled between them. “Like a dark mystery and the fresh air just rolling in off the wide ocean.”
“Keep it up, Husky Boy,” Stacy nuzzled in. She could happily go to sleep right here in his arms. “Don’t stop and I’ll drag you off into the tall grass.”
He huffed out a breath against the top of her head like he’d just been sucker punched. It had been a while and she’d forgotten how easy it was to do that to a guy.
She shifted enough to hear his heartbeat and sighed happily. It was a perfect place to curl up and disappear.
10
“I found Stacy in her bed…alone.” Jana found him sitting on the edge of one of the helicopter trailers. “What’s up with that, C? Want to talk about it?”
“She fell asleep standing in my arms, J. I carried her in.” She’d felt so light yet so substantial. If he’d had a bunk of his own, he might have carried her there. No. No, he wouldn’t. But he certainly liked the idea. Maybe he should hurry up fixing the next bunkhouse.
Jana hiked herself up to sit on the trailer beside him. Out of habit, he gave her a hand to provide stability that her hooks didn’t offer. That reminded him of Stacy’s question.
“What was it like, J? Losing that.” He tapped a finger on the plastic socket piece of her prosthetic.
“Seems like a distant dream now. Mostly I remember that it hurt like a son of a bitch. Looking back, I’d say I’m just glad it wasn’t my head.”
“If it had been, you’d have been fine. You’re as hardheaded as I am. But that’s not what I mean,” Curt almost laughed. It was exactly what Stacy had said, but never clarified. “Guess I’m asking what’s it like now?”
He could feel her scowl for a long time before she answered.
“You mean knowing that I’ll never be whole again? Knowing that any guy I’d want to take to bed is going to be thoroughly grossed out when faced with a stub of a forearm rather than a hand? Like that?”
“Aww, shit, J.” Curt looped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in.
“That the only guy willing to touch you without judgement is a side hug from your little brother?” Her voice cracked hard and he held her tighter as she cleared her throat a couple times.
“I’m so sorry, J. I didn’t realize. We’re gonna have to find you a guy who isn’t a dope.”
“Good luck with that,” she was back under tight control and sat up straight. He dropped his hand back to his lap. “Been three years. Why ask now?”
“Stacy asked and I didn’t know the answer.”
“Huh,” Jana didn’t sound pleased.
11
Stacy focused on the Brookfield Fire. It was a beast that had swept down out of the Ochoco National Forest, destroyed everything along Brookfield Lane in Prineville, Oregon almost before the alarm was sounded. It had already made authorities issue an evacuation order for a whole section of town. A dozen homes were already gone and a new neighborhood was under direct threat.
Assets were pouring in, but they were focused on blocking the heart of the fire that was headed straight for town. The new developments that had been spreading out north and east of the town were wide open. And there wasn’t a whole lot of water in the arid countryside. All of the water was pumped out for irrigation of the broad fields, but was little help to their current situation. The nearest open water was the Barnes Butte Reservoir and it was so busy already with tanker aircraft that it was an air traffic control nightmare.
“That reservoir is a five minute round trip away!” Jasper complained over the Firebirds’ private frequency from his MD 520N.
“Well, I’m not real happy about it either,” Curt had replied from his own helo.
Most of the swimming pools were shaded by trees that wouldn’t allow them to approach close enough without risking catching a rotor. With a rotor disc that swept less than thirty feet, she still couldn’t find…
No. There!
“Next neighborhood to the west. I’ve got two pools with new trees. Maybe we can get in there.” She didn’t wait for anyone to acknowledge, she twisted her helo into a sharp dive and pulled up hard fifty feet over the first pool. She needed to get down below fifteen feet to dip her dangling snorkel hose into the water—ten was better. That would place her main rotor at seventeen feet above the ground.
There was one tree that was just too tall and close to the pool. It would be too risky to catch her tail rotor. Wait. This was a NOTAR helicopter. Having no tail rotor hadn’t mattered at any time in the prior firefights, but her tailboom stuck six feet past the edge of the main rotor disc—so, unlike a conventional tail rotor, the NOTAR’s tail could brush the trees and her main rotor would be safely in the clear.
The only problem was that she couldn’t see it because it was directly behind her.
“Curt, spot my tail boom.”
“You gotta kidding me.”
Stacy wasn’t, so she began settling down toward the swimming pool as Curt called distances. She liked his voice in her ears, like when he’d whispered in her ear at night.
They’d woken to a fire call the next day after their first kiss. But he hadn’t protested when she’d dragged him into her tent that night. He was as self-assured a lover as he was a pilot. And every bit of that ego was deserved—he was the best lover she’d ever had and Stacy did her best to return the same.
“Fifteen feet,” he called over the radio from where he hovered to one side for a clear view.
Thoughtful, considerate, and with a body that a woman could gladly wear herself out getting to know. They’d been cohabiting for a month, often too tired to do more than collapse together, but the nights they were awake for more were notably spectacular. There’d been the night camped along a remote curve in the wilderness along the Rogue River.
“Ten.”
She continued easing down and released the snorkel. She leaned her head out into the bubble window mounted in the pilot’s side door. The acrylic was bowed outward so that she could look directly down.
“Still ten.”
That’s how she rated Curt as well. A month together and still a ten. Unheard of in her experience. Last week they had flown into one of the hundreds of coves along the Oregon Coast only accessible by boat or helicopter. For two glorious days they hadn’t even bothered with clothes, making love on the pale sand with only seagulls, sandpipers, and a rather curious seal out in the surf looking on. A powerful man’s naked body lit only by a beach campfire as he’d grilled salmon had been a revelation.
“Five. I don’t like this, Stacy.”
But he wasn’t calling her off yet and she continued descending. She spied along the snorkel and shifted closer to the edge of the pool away from the trees. Her rotor’s downwash blew aside lawn furniture and scattered pool tools. The owner, who should already have evacuated, stood on his rear deck yelling at her and shaking his fist. He was more worried about the neatness of his lawn than the fast approaching wildfire.
“Back up to eight with that last move.”
The way they moved together was pure magic. Their bodies finding rhythms that echoed far deeper than merely a happy nervous system. The synchronicity was tighter than between an intermeshing rotor system. Except she had no tail rotor. It should be disorienting. Instead, she felt clearer than she ever had before in her life.
The snorkel hit the water five feet from the pool’s edge, she eased forward another three feet. The owner had retreated to glower through his sliding glass door.
“Ten or eleven,” Curt called out.
Stacy hit the pump switch and the belly tank that hung between her skids began filling.
“Okay, listen up. My alignment points are the swim ladder exactly bracketing a gate in the fence. That will give us ten feet of tail clearance. We’re less than a thirty-second flight from the fire. That means that three of us can work this pool. Come in, load up, fly out to deliver as the next one round-robins down to fill. See if we can do that at the other pool.”
“On it,” Jasper called just as her tank hit full and she eased up and out.
Damn but she loved flying these aircraft. The Firebirds totally rocked.
12
Curt came dropping in close behind her. Amos hovered in turn and began calling Curt’s tail clearances—they stayed above ten feet the whole way using Stacy’s guideposts.
Within minutes they had two three-helicopter rotations gulping up and delivering two hundred-gallon loads of water in a near continuous stream. That was as fast as most fire trucks could deliver it—except the trucks had already been ordered to fall back a street and were no longer on the front line.
One by one they chopped gaps in the fire with their helos—down to the pool, pump, up even as Amos’ bird came down, follow Stacy to the fire, dump on the burning trees and lawn, turn back to pool, down as she once more lifted away. They herded the flames through vacant lots where the firefighters on the ground had set up wet lines and were pumping for all they were worth.
It was like a dream, following in Stacy’s wake. That’s how it felt being with her. He’d always thought of himself as the leader type—the Firebirds had been his initial idea. But he couldn’t keep up with Stacy. In the air, she was magnificent, and on the ground… His body was still tingling with the memory of her running wild on the beach. She’d raced laps along the wet sand which stretched a half mile end-to-end, dressed in only a sports bra, sunglasses, and tennis shoes. Like a goddess Venus in dog tags risen from the waves for his own private delight.
She never spoke about those dog tags, even though they’d often been the only thing she wore. He’d read the name. She’d lost a husband in one of the wars. That had to be some bad pain and he was careful not to bring it up.
The pools were running dry by the time they had this section of the fire beaten without a single house lost. Though Curt was glad he wouldn’t have to face the owner of the empty pool—he was still giving them a dirty look out the back window every time he tanked up.
“Refuel,” he ordered the team. Hover-and-lift burned the Jet Fuel A fast. And with a whole neighborhood secured it was time for them to get down and take a break as well.
Jana had a helispot set up at a scenic viewpoint on the far side of town, just a few minutes’ flight away.
Once more he was following Stacy like a hungry dog who couldn’t get enough. And he knew he never would, not given a dozen years to try, or a hundred.
There was a startling thought. A lifetime? Could he have found his lifetime lady? He’d never really expected to. Oh, he’d find someone to settle down with someday, but there wasn’t time in his life to do the finding. He was maxed out with keeping the business afloat. They were doing well, but the season was far from break-even still. An early end to the fire season could still kill them off far too easily.
He didn’t want the distraction of a relationship. It didn’t matter that she made him feel smarter, stronger, better than he knew he was. A relationship right now would be a pain in the ass.
That had him chuckling to himself as he settled down in Ochoco Wayside State Park just north of a bright green golf course, so well irrigated that there wasn’t a chance of it burning. The wayside was a parched area of browning grasses and thirty-foot Douglas fir and larch scattered about. But the viewpoint itself was a paved loop with enough room to safely land their six Firebirds. Jana had parked the service and transport vehicles along the entry road and set up camp while they’d been fighting the fire.
Pain in the ass. That’s how Stacy Richardson had introduced herself. The only pain she gave him was when they weren’t side by side.
He fell in beside her as they crossed over to where the ground team had set up a lunch spread for the pilots.
“You’re gonna marry me when this is all over, right?” He tried to make it sound like a joke at the end, because he sure as hell hadn’t meant to say it from the beginning. Marriage? Shit, no!
“Sure,” he was glad her tone was light—lighter than his. “Just as soon I can think of any reason that I’d want to.”
Curt grabbed her hand to stop her. She looked at him in surprise, but he held his silence until the other pilots had moved by them at Cruise Speed (max) toward the picnic table.
“There’s going to be a reason, isn’t there?” He asked as soon as they were alone. He hadn’t meant to sound so serious—was surprised to discover that he was.
She reached out and brushed a thumb down his cheek.
Turning his head into her hand he was able to leave a kiss in her palm.
“Been practicing that romantic approach for a while, have you?” Her smile said that she knew he’d blurted it out without intending to.
“I…know how to fly.” How to deal with the woman looking up at him with those warm brown eyes was beyond him.
Then he saw a hint of sadness in her eyes and he didn’t like where that was leading at all. He wanted to turn his good ear toward her and ask again because he couldn’t be hearing this properly…but there was nothing wrong with his vision.
She brushed her thumb down his cheek again, then followed the others to the table.
Jana was headed the other way to join Maggie in checking over the helos and making sure they were ready to go aloft again. His sister had cooled toward Stacy at the same rate that he’d been heating up. His sister was the best judge of people he’d ever met, but she was wrong this time.
“Trouble in paradise, C?” Jana said as she passed him.
“Eat hot shit, J!”
She stumbled to a halt and turned back to look at him. “Rattlesnake bite you?”
He glared at her.
“Look, Curt,” it was never a good sign when she used his full name. “I’ve got some issues with her, but they’re mine. Don’t let them affect you.”
“What issues? She’s amazing.”
“In bed, I’m sure.” Jana grimaced an apology. “There’s something hidden in her and I don’t trust it. She’s damaged goods and I know what I’m talking about.” She raised her hooks to emphasize her point.
He’d forgotten about the night Stacy had asked him about Jana’s artificial hand. It had been a strange thing to do and he remembered it gut-punching his sister when he’d related the story later that night.
“She ever mention it?” he asked, nodding toward her hand.
“Not a word, not a glance. You two have been shacking up, so I only see her on the flight line or at meals, but there’s something about it that bothers her in a weird way.”
At his silence, Jana shrugged and moved off.
Curt knew he wasn’t the deepest thinker, but Jana’s caution had kicked him into high gear—or at least a higher one than usual. Jana’s radar about people was always spot on. His was okay with guys, but lousy with women.
Was Stacy backing away because he had a handicapped sister? That didn’t sound right. If it wasn’t that, he didn’t know what it could be. He could try asking, but some part of that higher thinking g
ear warned him that he might not like the answer—like probing a sore tooth until it was screaming.
13
Stacy couldn’t believe it. How could something so good become so screwed up in a single week? By the time they left the fire in Prineville, Curt had been growing distant. Jasper, of course, picked up on it right away and began avoiding her as well. Between one moment and the next, she’d become the rotting jellyfish on the beach.
Back at their Illinois Valley Airport base, the nerves had caught up with her in the middle of the night. She’d slipped out of Curt’s bed and headed out into the dark. She couldn’t exactly move back in with the girls—Jana had made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with her.
At a loss for where else to go, she climbed into the back of her pickup, leaving the cap’s tail flap up so that she could see the stars.
It was too familiar. Too real.
She and her brother had camped together in this truck—a lot. They’d had to leave the tailgate down, even in the rain, because Bill’s legs had been too long for the short bed. They’d scrunch up together, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder by the wheel wells intruding from either side and tell stories and make up jokes. After he’d joined the Army, they’d spent almost all of his leaves out camping. Then he’d told her everything he could about flight operations.
Now she huddled alone in the dark, lying on the truck bed, clutching her fist around the dog tags that were the most prized vestiges of Bill’s life: the last thing to have touched him that she had. The dog tags that Curt had never asked about. There was no going home. If she went back to the family farm, she’d never leave.
Instead, she’d rot there just like her parents and never—
“He throw you out?”
Stacy yelped in surprise at hearing Jana’s voice echo inside the truck’s cap. She could make out Jana’s silhouette where she’d leaned her crossed arms on the tailgate.
They'd Most Certainly Be Flying Page 3