Font Size:

Fuck.

I don’t even need to look at it to know what it is. Still, I check.

MOOSE CREEK FIRE OPS.

I sit up fast, the shift displacing her off my chest.

She frowns. “Trouble?”

“Fire call. Gotta take it.” I swipe to answer. “Pearson.”

“Jake, it’s Wallace. We’ve got a hot one out east—Suncrest Ridge, about two miles from the river. It jumped containment and it’s closing in on residential properties. We need the little bird. You up?”

I’m already grabbing my pants. “I’m on my way. ETA twenty. I’ll pick her up and meet your crew in the air.”

“Copy. Appreciate you.”

I hang up and turn toward the bed. Ruby is watching me, the sheet pulled up over her chest, her eyes clouded with concern.

“Another fire?”

I nod, tugging my shirt on over my head. “They need my chopper. It’s getting close to homes.”

She sits up, all flushed and mussed and so goddamn beautiful it guts me to walk out the door.

“I’m sorry I have to leave,” I tell her.

“I get it,” she says with a sweet smile. “It’s your job. Go be the hero.”

I lean in, catching her jaw in my hand and kissing her, hard and short. “We’re not done,” I murmur against her lips. “Not even close. When I get back, you’re not leaving my bed.”

She smiles like a secret. “I was thinking I should head back to camp anyway. I’ve got an early shift.”

“Take my truck,” I say. “Your car’s still at the wash. I’ll get a ride out and grab it later.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Your legs are wrecked. You’re not walking.”

Her laugh is soft, sexy, and it follows me all the way to the airstrip.

***

The second I lift off, I’m locked in.

The fire’s worse than I expected. Smoke rising in thick columns, blotting out the horizon. Wind’s slicing through the trees, feeding the flames like it wants to see the whole damn ridge burn.

Suncrest isn’t far from town, new buildings tucked into the forest, all of them dry as tinderboxes. I spot a cluster of homes at the top of a slope and head there first. The fire’s pushing up fast, licking the edges of the tree line, just a few hundred feet from one big white farmhouse with a red barn.

“There’s a pond,” I mutter, spotting the shimmer of water behind the property. “Thank fuck.”

I radio in. “Pearson on site. I’ve got visuals on residentials near Suncrest. Engaging from the northeast. Using a local pond for drops.”

“Copy, Pearson. Smoke jumpers en route. Tankers are ten out.”

I dip low, line up the bucket, and haul water.

Drop.