Tara tore her gaze away from his and looked down at her lap. “He asked how many I’d saved on fires. I thought he somehow knew.”
“I don’t discuss things like that. Don’t pay attention to Rego. He’s always running his mouth off.” He gave her a wry smile. “Your secret is safe with me.”
She believed him. “Can I tell you something? Yesterday after class, I Skyped into the After-Action Review with the Forest Service in Missoula. I didn’t cast blame on anyone but myself for misjudging fire behavior and thinking I could outrun it.”
He nodded. “I’ve participated in AARs before. They aren’t fun, but it’s important to analyze the situation for lessons learned, to prevent it from happening again.”
She appreciated his understanding. It made her words come easier. “I told them yesterday, that when we fight fire where homes and wildlands meet, we trust others to get people out in mandatory evacuations. I’m not pointing fingers, but somehow the ball got dropped in making sure everyone was evacuated.” Her voice caught and she hesitated. Be careful. Don’t want your instructor thinking you can’t hold it together.
He shifted in his chair but stayed quiet and listened.
She leaned back and folded her arms. “In California, those hellacious Santa Ana winds cause fast-moving fires. On a bad fire last year in Santa Clarita, we were directed to go house-to-house to make sure everyone got out. Law enforcement was shorthanded.”
“Santa Ana wind fires are terrifyingly fast. I’ve worked several.”
Tara glanced at him. “Have you ever seen a fire devil? Weather people call them firenadoes.”
He nodded. “Once. In California.”
“On the Montana fire, it was like a dragon had breathed flame on that house and blew it up. I saw the guy with a walker and knew he couldn’t get out on his own. Jim warned I couldn’t get him in time. God, I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.” She shook her head. “I won track meets in high school and college. I thought I could pull it off.” The pressure was building behind her eyes.
Despite her pooling tears, she somehow trusted him with her raw underbelly. “I’m not a weak person.”
“That’s the last thing I’d think about you.” He pulled a red bandana from his pants pocket and slid it across the table. “Being able to talk about it is a sign of strength, not weakness.”
The gentle way he said it drew her gaze to his empathetic one. “I was so shocked when the fire…took him. I couldn’t move—couldn’t move anything.” A renegade tear fell. She grabbed the bandana and swiped it away. “Thanks for pulling me back. Sorry I was a jerk. I was mortified you had to help me.”
“Don’t be. Anyone would have reacted the same. You’d have gotten yourself out. All I did was speed things up.” He gave her a sympathetic smile. “Did Jim advise you to get counseling for the line of duty death?”
Tara swallowed. “Yes. But I didn’t want to go on admin leave, so he suggested I come up here for a change of scenery. I’ll do my time and return to Missoula to work on the Lolo Hotshot crew.”
“You make it sound like working in Alaska is a prison sentence. Seriously, reconsider counseling. Your agency will pay for it.”
Was it his sincere concern or his easy charm causing her breath to catch? “I’m working things out on my own.”
“It helps to work through what you’ve experienced with a professional.”
“I’ll think about it.” It came out snottier than she meant it to. “I mean, I’ll consider it. Thanks.”
An awkward silence fell between them. He stared at her a long moment. “Well, you know what’s best for you.”
She leaned back in her chair and stared at the bandana she rolled in her hands. “I want you to know something. I don’t normally need rescuing. I’m not helpless.” She looked up at him.
“Never thought of you that way. Quite the contrary. If you were a guy, I would have done the same. Sometimes people need help, that’s all. Even firefighters.” He gave her a close-mouthed smile and moved to the white board where he picked up an eraser and rubbed away his class notes.
Tara tried not to notice his biceps flex and unflex as he erased his wildfire scenarios from class. When she realized she was ogling, she jerked herself to action and found another eraser.
“One other thing,” she added as she helped him erase. “I can handle chauvinist douches, like today in the break room.”
He paused and gave her a sidelong glance. “As an instructor, I have the responsibility to stop offensive comments. Teasing or serious. Zero tolerance.”
She hated wiping away his beautiful handwriting. “You galloped in on your white steed to slay the dragons and thank you for that, by the way.” She turned to him, holding the eraser. “But I can slay my own dragons.”
He stopped to look at her. “I have absolutely no doubt that you can.”
“So, how much did you hear anyway?”
“You had me at Harvey Weinstein.” He slanted a grin at her.
She laughed and looked into his eyes. “You liked that?”
No one on the planet has eyes this blue. He must be wearing tinted contacts.
“Like I said…I don’t let people get away with offensive remarks.”
“Good to hear you say that.” She watched for any nuance that would belie his comment. His credibility as her training instructor depended on how well he supported women firefighters. “Guys with sexist attitudes do it to get a rise out of us, so long as they can get away with it.”
“True.” He finished cleaning the white board and turned to her. “I have to point something out. Rego and Hudson laid the fly on the water and you bit the hook.”
She shrugged. “They questioned my ability to do the job, so I called them on it.”
“I’m not condoning what they
