His vibe rippled her insides and her breathing shallowed. To distance herself, she wandered to the wall map while her heart vaulted an imaginary pommel horse. She slid her forefinger to Kwigillingok, on the Bering Sea coast in southwest Alaska.
She spoke to the map. “I don’t care what motivates people to make ignorant comments. I won’t let them get away with it.” She turned to see him leaning against the white board scrutinizing her. Heat crawled up her neck.
“This agency doesn’t tolerate gender bias and harassment. But they can’t do anything unless it’s reported. Want to file a complaint against Rego and Hudson?” He set down the eraser and swiped his hands.
“Why? Because they have old-fashioned beliefs that women should be protected and aren’t built to fight fire? I told them to stop their comments. Most people do when you call them on it. That’s been my experience anyway.”
She suddenly felt self-conscious and turned to the map, sliding her finger along the boundary of Denali National Park. She aimed for a casual tone. “So where did you go after I saw you on the Copper Peak Fire?”
“Met up with my jump squad while air attack did their thing. Tanker pilots were the real heroes. Their mud drops bought us time to get a saw-line around the head and contain it. We had a good incident commander.”
“Travis McGuire.” She was amazed how easy her ex’s name rolled off her tongue.
“Right, McGuire. One of the Zulie jumpers. You know him?”
“Uh-huh. I know him.” No way would she say how. How bizarre that he mentioned her former fiancé. Could any of these coincidences get any weirder?
A thought struck her. “How do you know my crew boss, Jim Dolan?”
She swore he gave her a deer-in-the-headlights expression.
“I met him several years ago on a fire in Alaska’s Interior.”
“What did he say about me that day on the Copper Peak Fire?”
“He thanked me for helping you. That’s all.” He flicked his eyes at the wall clock.
She glanced at her watch. “Oh, sorry to keep you. I have to go anyway, to catch dinner before mess hall closes."
“Wait, I’ll go with you.” He gathered the exams and set them on his clipboard.
“If I walk with you to dinner, people will say I’m hitting on the training instructor,” she teased. Being new here, she wanted to establish she wasn’t about that.
“You care what people say?”
“I like to keep things professional.” Saying it matter-of-factly aided her resolve.
“So do I.” He locked his gaze on her. “In Alaska, people are pretty chill.”
She scrambled for an even keel.“I’m sure they are.”
Ryan stood and tucked the exams under his arm. “Okay, let’s go.”
The way he said it sounded casual and intimate, as if he’d known her all her life. She felt easier with him than she’d expected. They left the training room and exited the building.
As they strolled toward the mess hall, Tara found herself dragging their pace. A group of guys sauntered past, dipping their heads at Ryan, eyes fixed on Tara.
“How long have you been jumping in Alaska? What did you do before?”
“This is my fifth season. Worked on the Mendocino Hotshot crew in California and did some heli-rappelling. Thought I’d jump out of planes instead of dangling below helos, so I applied to Redding Smokejumper Base. Got my degree at Humboldt and transferred up here.”
“Impressive resumé.”
He angled toward her. “It’s a living, right?”
She admired his controlled calm for someone with such a perilous job. “Let me guess—you’re addicted to the insane adrenaline rush of jumping out of a perfectly good airplane to tame a raging inferno. You travel to beautiful, exotic lands and have seen indescribable rainbows and sunsets. You experience what the average person doesn’t, and millions will never see.” She gave him a triumphant smile.
“Something tells me you’re familiar with smokejumping.” He smiled back, displaying dimpled cheeks and nice teeth. What the heck kind of dental plan does he have?
“I worked at the Missoula Smokejumper Base a few years back—plus I know people who work there.” No way would she say how she’d almost married into it.
“Love the job, especially up here. You’re right. I’ve seen beauty I can’t describe. I’m no writer or poet, that’s for sure.”
“You graduated, so you must have done some writing. What’s your degree?”
“Fire science and natural resources. You?”
“Master’s in fire science from University of Montana.” She reached the entrance of the mess hall.
“Ha! We’re two of a kind. You know, Alaska is even more spectacular from the air. I could show you sometime—” Ryan’s phone interrupted with Ring of Fire. “Hey, hang on a sec.” He covered the phone to talk to Tara. “Go on in and I’ll count to ten, so you won’t be walking in with your training instructor.” He moved away, smiling into his phone.
Was it a girlfriend? She pulled the door open, inhaling grilled food. The door slammed behind her and she hurried to the food line. She loaded her tray with a pork chop, rice, and steamed broccoli before setting it on a table and sliding onto the bench seat.
She sawed at her pork chop, keeping one eye on the door. A pony-tailed woman wiped off her table and another swished a mop on the linoleum, causing her to shovel in the rest of her dinner. When she left the mess hall, Ryan was nowhere in sight. Who’d caused him to miss dinner? Smokejumpers never missed a meal.
Had she heard him correctly? He’d show her Alaska from the air. Oh crap, not more flying. Of all the fires in all the forests in all the states, Ryan had jumped into hers. And he’d earned her quiet stamp of approval for instructor credibility.
But don’t get attracted.
She would not allow herself to get sucked in again. While Ryan made her insides a little gooey, she would firmly plant him in her WFBNM—Work Friend but Nothing More category. No more smokejumper entanglements. Dad had warned her before the first one.
And of course, she didn’t
