Chasing Fire
Page 33
“I strongly disagree, and would be willing to back that up with a demonstration.”
“Sweet.” She gave him a light slap on his grimy face. “Pass. ’Night.”
She slipped into her room, and he continued on to his. Once he stripped off his stinking shirt, pants, and fell facedown and filthy on top of his bed, he had time to think thank God she hadn’t taken him up on it before he zeroed out.
In the bunk in his office, where he habitually stayed when Rowan caught a fire at night, Lucas heard the transport plane go out. Heard it come back. Still, he didn’t fully relax until his cell phone signaled a text.
Got nasty, but we put her down. I’m A-OK. Love, Ro
He put the phone aside, settled down, and slid into the first easy sleep since the siren sounded.
Lucas jumped with an early-morning group of eight, posed for pictures, signed brochures, then took the time to discuss moving up to accelerated free fall with two of the group.
When he walked them in to Marcie to sign them up, his brain went wonky on him. Ella Frazier of the red hair and forest-green eyes turned to smile at him.
With dimples.
“Hello again.”
“Ah... again,” he managed, flustered. “Um, Marcie will take you through the rest, get you scheduled,” he told the couple with him.
“I watched your skydive.” Ella turned her smile on them. “I just did my first tandem the other day. It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
He stood, struggling not to shuffle his feet while Ella chatted with his newest students.
“Have you got a minute for me?” she asked him.
“Sure. Sure. My office—”
“Could we walk outside? Marcie tells me you’ve got two more tandems coming in. I’d love to watch.”
“Okay.” He held the door open for her, then wondered what to do with his hands. In his pockets? At his sides? He wished he had a clipboard with him to keep them occupied.
“I know you’re busy today, and I probably should’ve called.”
“It’s no problem.”
“How’s your daughter? I followed the fire on the news,” she added.
“She’s fine. Back on base, safe and sound. Did I tell you about Rowan?”
“Not exactly.” She tucked her hair behind her ear as she angled her face toward his. “I Googled you before I signed up. I love my son, but I wasn’t about to jump out of an airplane unless I knew something about who I was hooked to.”
“Can’t blame you.” See, he told himself, sensible. Any man should be able to relax around a sensible woman. A grandmother, he reminded himself. An educator.
He managed to unknot his shoulders.
“Your experience and reputation turned the trick for me. So, Lucas, I was wondering if I could buy you a drink.”
And his shoulders tensed like overwound springs while his brain went to sloppy mush. “Sorry?”
“To thank you for the experience, and giving me the chance to show off to my grandchildren.”
“Oh, well.” There went that flush of heat up the back of his neck. “You don’t have to... I mean to say—”
“I caught you off-guard, and probably sounded like half the women who come through here, hitting on you.”
“No, they... you—”
“I wasn’t. Hitting on you,” she added with a big, bright smile. “But now I have to confess to a secondary purpose. I have a project I’d love to speak to you about, and if I could buy you a drink, soften you up, I’m hoping you’ll get on board. If you’re in a relationship, you’re welcome to bring your lady with you.”
“No, I’m not. I mean, there isn’t any lady. Especially.”
“Would you be free tonight? I could meet you about seven, at the bar at Open Range. I could thank you, soften you up, and you can tell me more about training for the AFF.”
Business, he told himself. Friendly business. He discussed friendly business over drinks all the damn time. No reason he couldn’t do the same with her. “I don’t have any plans.”
“Then we’re set? Thanks so much.” She shot out a hand, shook his briskly. “I’ll see you at seven.”
He watched her walk away, so pretty, so breezy—and reminded himself it was just friendly business.
9
As she had done in her tent, Rowan lay with her eyes closed and took morning inventory. She decided she felt like a hundred-year-old woman who’d been on a starvation diet. But she’d come out of it—as fire boss—uninjured, her crew intact, and the fire down.
Added to it, she thought as she opened her eyes, tracked her gaze around her quarters, during her two days out the pig-blood fairies had not only mopped and scrubbed but rolled a fresh coat of paint on her walls.
She owed somebody, and if she could drag herself out of bed she’d find out who.
When she did, her calves twinged, her quads protested. The bis and tris, she noted, shed bitter tears. The hot shower she’d all but slept through had helped, a little, but the eight hours in the rack after two arduous days required more.
Fuel and movement, she ordered herself. And where was Gull with his breakfast sandwich when she needed one? She settled for a chocolate bar while she dressed, then hobbled off to the gym.
She wasn’t the only one hobbling.
She grunted at Gibbons, who grunted back, watched Trigger wince through some floor stretches. She studied Dobie—wiry little guy—as he bench-pressed what she judged to be his body weight.
“I’m back on the jump list tomorrow,” he told her as he pumped up with an explosion of breath. “I’m ready. Hell of a lot readier than you guys, from the looks of it.”
She shot him the finger, then moaned into a forward bend. She stayed down, just stayed down and breathed for as long as she could stand it, then with her palms on the floor, arched her back and looked up.
The yellow bruising on Dobie’s red-with-effort face made him look like a jaundiced burn victim. And he’d shaved off his scraggly excuse for a beard—an improvement, to her mind, since he looked less like a hillbilly leprechaun.
“Somebody cleaned up and painted my room.”
“Yeah.” With another explosion of breath, he pushed the weights up, then clicked them in the safety. “Stovic and me, we had time on our hands.”
She brought herself back to standing. “You guys did all that?”
“Sweet.” She gave him a light slap on his grimy face. “Pass. ’Night.”
She slipped into her room, and he continued on to his. Once he stripped off his stinking shirt, pants, and fell facedown and filthy on top of his bed, he had time to think thank God she hadn’t taken him up on it before he zeroed out.
In the bunk in his office, where he habitually stayed when Rowan caught a fire at night, Lucas heard the transport plane go out. Heard it come back. Still, he didn’t fully relax until his cell phone signaled a text.
Got nasty, but we put her down. I’m A-OK. Love, Ro
He put the phone aside, settled down, and slid into the first easy sleep since the siren sounded.
Lucas jumped with an early-morning group of eight, posed for pictures, signed brochures, then took the time to discuss moving up to accelerated free fall with two of the group.
When he walked them in to Marcie to sign them up, his brain went wonky on him. Ella Frazier of the red hair and forest-green eyes turned to smile at him.
With dimples.
“Hello again.”
“Ah... again,” he managed, flustered. “Um, Marcie will take you through the rest, get you scheduled,” he told the couple with him.
“I watched your skydive.” Ella turned her smile on them. “I just did my first tandem the other day. It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
He stood, struggling not to shuffle his feet while Ella chatted with his newest students.
“Have you got a minute for me?” she asked him.
“Sure. Sure. My office—”
“Could we walk outside? Marcie tells me you’ve got two more tandems coming in. I’d love to watch.”
“Okay.” He held the door open for her, then wondered what to do with his hands. In his pockets? At his sides? He wished he had a clipboard with him to keep them occupied.
“I know you’re busy today, and I probably should’ve called.”
“It’s no problem.”
“How’s your daughter? I followed the fire on the news,” she added.
“She’s fine. Back on base, safe and sound. Did I tell you about Rowan?”
“Not exactly.” She tucked her hair behind her ear as she angled her face toward his. “I Googled you before I signed up. I love my son, but I wasn’t about to jump out of an airplane unless I knew something about who I was hooked to.”
“Can’t blame you.” See, he told himself, sensible. Any man should be able to relax around a sensible woman. A grandmother, he reminded himself. An educator.
He managed to unknot his shoulders.
“Your experience and reputation turned the trick for me. So, Lucas, I was wondering if I could buy you a drink.”
And his shoulders tensed like overwound springs while his brain went to sloppy mush. “Sorry?”
“To thank you for the experience, and giving me the chance to show off to my grandchildren.”
“Oh, well.” There went that flush of heat up the back of his neck. “You don’t have to... I mean to say—”
“I caught you off-guard, and probably sounded like half the women who come through here, hitting on you.”
“No, they... you—”
“I wasn’t. Hitting on you,” she added with a big, bright smile. “But now I have to confess to a secondary purpose. I have a project I’d love to speak to you about, and if I could buy you a drink, soften you up, I’m hoping you’ll get on board. If you’re in a relationship, you’re welcome to bring your lady with you.”
“No, I’m not. I mean, there isn’t any lady. Especially.”
“Would you be free tonight? I could meet you about seven, at the bar at Open Range. I could thank you, soften you up, and you can tell me more about training for the AFF.”
Business, he told himself. Friendly business. He discussed friendly business over drinks all the damn time. No reason he couldn’t do the same with her. “I don’t have any plans.”
“Then we’re set? Thanks so much.” She shot out a hand, shook his briskly. “I’ll see you at seven.”
He watched her walk away, so pretty, so breezy—and reminded himself it was just friendly business.
9
As she had done in her tent, Rowan lay with her eyes closed and took morning inventory. She decided she felt like a hundred-year-old woman who’d been on a starvation diet. But she’d come out of it—as fire boss—uninjured, her crew intact, and the fire down.
Added to it, she thought as she opened her eyes, tracked her gaze around her quarters, during her two days out the pig-blood fairies had not only mopped and scrubbed but rolled a fresh coat of paint on her walls.
She owed somebody, and if she could drag herself out of bed she’d find out who.
When she did, her calves twinged, her quads protested. The bis and tris, she noted, shed bitter tears. The hot shower she’d all but slept through had helped, a little, but the eight hours in the rack after two arduous days required more.
Fuel and movement, she ordered herself. And where was Gull with his breakfast sandwich when she needed one? She settled for a chocolate bar while she dressed, then hobbled off to the gym.
She wasn’t the only one hobbling.
She grunted at Gibbons, who grunted back, watched Trigger wince through some floor stretches. She studied Dobie—wiry little guy—as he bench-pressed what she judged to be his body weight.
“I’m back on the jump list tomorrow,” he told her as he pumped up with an explosion of breath. “I’m ready. Hell of a lot readier than you guys, from the looks of it.”
She shot him the finger, then moaned into a forward bend. She stayed down, just stayed down and breathed for as long as she could stand it, then with her palms on the floor, arched her back and looked up.
The yellow bruising on Dobie’s red-with-effort face made him look like a jaundiced burn victim. And he’d shaved off his scraggly excuse for a beard—an improvement, to her mind, since he looked less like a hillbilly leprechaun.
“Somebody cleaned up and painted my room.”
“Yeah.” With another explosion of breath, he pushed the weights up, then clicked them in the safety. “Stovic and me, we had time on our hands.”
She brought herself back to standing. “You guys did all that?”
