would make even the
basic act of walking almost impossible. You’d have to cut your way through
because nothing had burned here for decades.
Beside him, Gia nodded. “Okay.
Let’s go radio the guys. It’s a tall order, but we can knock this down.”
He took a second look at the fire. “I
don’t like it.”
“We’re not picking out paint
colors. Give me specifics.”
“The wind’s shifting,” he pointed
out. When they’d jumped, the smoke column had been more or less vertical, but
now the tip had hung a left.
“Anything
else wrong with this site?” she asked dryly.
He had a list as long as his arm.
Number one, however, was the wind. While they’d stood here arguing, the wind
had picked up. The drift streamers on the ground danced restlessly. If the wind
hit just right, feeding oxygen into the fire, the whole damned place would
explode into flames and they’d be looking at area ignition.
“It’s not safe.” He needed a second
opinion, an escape route… Hell. He didn’t know what was up with his sorry ass
but, clearly, he didn’t want her to do her job. No—he wanted her safe and
they were standing face-to-face with fifty acres of wildfire. He wouldn’t get
what he wanted today.
“That’s why we’re here. To make it safe,” she pointed out.
“You want me to make you recite the
ten standard firefighting orders?”
Those orders were the mantra, rule
book and Bible for any firefighter on the ground. Following them kept good men
safe and had done for fifty-plus years. Which was the point. The Forest Service
didn’t want to lose any more firefighters.
She eyed him. “As long as you
remember that the tenth order says we fight the fire aggressively , Donovan.”
“And safety comes first,” he
pointed out. “That’s in the rule book too.”
“Fuck off,” she said amiably. “This
is my job and I’m doing it. What’s wrong with you, Donovan?”
“You,” he snapped, giving her the
truth. “You don’t think, Gia. You rush into dangerous situations.”
“I’m doing my job. That means
taking a risk sometimes.”
“No,” he repeated. “Your job is
what I say it is.”
She stepped into him, her hand
shoving his chest. “Bullshit, Donovan. I’m a smoke jumper. I fight fire. Really
nasty, really hot fire. So that makes this fire line all part of a day’s work.
You know it. I know it.”
He stared at her, because keeping
his mouth shut right now was the only prudent course of action.
“You
know what your problem is?”
He
was certain she’d tell him.
“Surprise
me,” he drawled.
“Sex.” She rocked back on her
heels. “But here’s a newsflash for you. Having sex with you doesn’t make me
incompetent or the little woman—so you stick your alpha male bull crap up
your uptight, over-protective ass. Sex doesn’t make you the boss of me.”
###
“You liked taking orders just
fine,” Rio growled.
Gia considered planting her Pulaski
in his thick skull, but there were probably laws against assaulting her boss with
the razor-sharp hand-tool even if he was asking for it.
“We had a deal,” she snapped,
slamming the Pulaski into the ground instead. See? She’d get a start on cutting
line and get her frustrations out at the same time. That was practical.
Because what Rio didn’t get to do
was to change the terms of their deal. Sex wasn’t supposed to change anything
between them. It was supposed to be fun, not a game changer. From what she’d
heard, Rio Donovan should have understood that very well. Hell, he hadn’t had a
relationship that outlasted a fire season.
“Remember that conversation?” She
prompted him when he didn’t answer right away. He was staring at the low flames
chewing up the forest floor. She squinted, following his gaze. Sumac and scrub oak,
yucca and manzanita all hung on for dear life to the mountain slope in a thick,
almost impenetrable web of branches. Getting through the tangle would be
basic act of walking almost impossible. You’d have to cut your way through
because nothing had burned here for decades.
Beside him, Gia nodded. “Okay.
Let’s go radio the guys. It’s a tall order, but we can knock this down.”
He took a second look at the fire. “I
don’t like it.”
“We’re not picking out paint
colors. Give me specifics.”
“The wind’s shifting,” he pointed
out. When they’d jumped, the smoke column had been more or less vertical, but
now the tip had hung a left.
“Anything
else wrong with this site?” she asked dryly.
He had a list as long as his arm.
Number one, however, was the wind. While they’d stood here arguing, the wind
had picked up. The drift streamers on the ground danced restlessly. If the wind
hit just right, feeding oxygen into the fire, the whole damned place would
explode into flames and they’d be looking at area ignition.
“It’s not safe.” He needed a second
opinion, an escape route… Hell. He didn’t know what was up with his sorry ass
but, clearly, he didn’t want her to do her job. No—he wanted her safe and
they were standing face-to-face with fifty acres of wildfire. He wouldn’t get
what he wanted today.
“That’s why we’re here. To make it safe,” she pointed out.
“You want me to make you recite the
ten standard firefighting orders?”
Those orders were the mantra, rule
book and Bible for any firefighter on the ground. Following them kept good men
safe and had done for fifty-plus years. Which was the point. The Forest Service
didn’t want to lose any more firefighters.
She eyed him. “As long as you
remember that the tenth order says we fight the fire aggressively , Donovan.”
“And safety comes first,” he
pointed out. “That’s in the rule book too.”
“Fuck off,” she said amiably. “This
is my job and I’m doing it. What’s wrong with you, Donovan?”
“You,” he snapped, giving her the
truth. “You don’t think, Gia. You rush into dangerous situations.”
“I’m doing my job. That means
taking a risk sometimes.”
“No,” he repeated. “Your job is
what I say it is.”
She stepped into him, her hand
shoving his chest. “Bullshit, Donovan. I’m a smoke jumper. I fight fire. Really
nasty, really hot fire. So that makes this fire line all part of a day’s work.
You know it. I know it.”
He stared at her, because keeping
his mouth shut right now was the only prudent course of action.
“You
know what your problem is?”
He
was certain she’d tell him.
“Surprise
me,” he drawled.
“Sex.” She rocked back on her
heels. “But here’s a newsflash for you. Having sex with you doesn’t make me
incompetent or the little woman—so you stick your alpha male bull crap up
your uptight, over-protective ass. Sex doesn’t make you the boss of me.”
###
“You liked taking orders just
fine,” Rio growled.
Gia considered planting her Pulaski
in his thick skull, but there were probably laws against assaulting her boss with
the razor-sharp hand-tool even if he was asking for it.
“We had a deal,” she snapped,
slamming the Pulaski into the ground instead. See? She’d get a start on cutting
line and get her frustrations out at the same time. That was practical.
Because what Rio didn’t get to do
was to change the terms of their deal. Sex wasn’t supposed to change anything
between them. It was supposed to be fun, not a game changer. From what she’d
heard, Rio Donovan should have understood that very well. Hell, he hadn’t had a
relationship that outlasted a fire season.
“Remember that conversation?” She
prompted him when he didn’t answer right away. He was staring at the low flames
chewing up the forest floor. She squinted, following his gaze. Sumac and scrub oak,
yucca and manzanita all hung on for dear life to the mountain slope in a thick,
almost impenetrable web of branches. Getting through the tangle would be
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