Chapter 8
Ryan entered the Jump Shack, the heartbeat of the Alaska Smokejumper Base. He wandered past the taller section where parachutes hung gracefully from the ceiling, then passed the Ready Room where jumpers stored gear and suited up to jump fires.
His stomach growled. Dad called just as he’d summoned the nerve to invite Tara to go flying. By the time he’d explained the IRS required minimum distribution to his dad for the hundredth time, the mess hall had closed. So much for getting to know Tara over dinner.
He stopped off in the small break room to scope out leftovers in the fridge. He rescued a smashed ham and cheese sandwich bunched up in a corner. Scowling at it, he heard whistling in The Loft, the long rectangular room where jumpers repaired chutes and other firefighting equipment. He entered and tossed his clipboard and exams on a wall counter.
“About time you dragged your sorry ass in here.” Gunnar bent over a long chute table, inspecting lines and harnesses under a bright hanging light. “You’re not getting out of rigging chutes just because you have tests to grade.”
“Okay, slacker, then help me.” Ryan bit into the mutilated ham and cheese.
“Ryno, you’re better at that stuff than me.”
“Yeah, right.” He flopped into a worn, out-of-place armchair.
During morning roll call his first year, three Ryans were on the Alaska jump list. Ryan O. soon became Ryno. After he’d commanded a few fires, jumpers christened him ‘The Charging Ryno’ for his fearless, unrelenting approach to fighting fire.
“Long day?” Gunnar eyeballed a chute seam.
“Aren’t they all?”
“Depends.” Gunnar grinned. “On the company one keeps.”
“Meaning?”
“Observed a certain redhead waiting to talk to you after class.”
Ryan waved away his comment. “She had questions.”
“Uh-huh, whatever you say. Tomorrow’s syllabus is on my laptop.” Gunnar motioned at the wall counter.
“What a stand-up guy. I take it back. You aren’t a slacker.” Ryan grabbed a parachute and unfolded it on a long, narrow table.
Gunnar smoothed out folds on the table. “Have you figured out crew assignments?”
Ryan straightened and yawned. “I’ve assigned everyone but Rego and Hudson. Still deciding which crew to stick them on.”
Gunnar smirked. “I know where I’d like to stick them.”
“Wish they’d wash out, but they won’t.”
“Waters sure won’t.”
Ryan cracked a smile at his jump partner’s finesse at scoping out female firefighters each season. “No, she’s quite…fit.” He eyed his friend. “Planning to hit on her?”
“Maybe.” Gunnar gave him an impish grin as he assembled more chutes.
“Don’t waste your time. She’s here on a temporary detail but plans to get on the Lolo Hotshots, in case you have a bead on her.” He’d be damned if Gunnar would ask her out first.
“She’s in the wrong state. Shouldn’t she be in Montana?”
Ryan hesitated. He wouldn’t out Tara. “She’s going back, so don’t get your hopes up. You know how hard it is to have meaningful relationships during fire season. A minute here, an evening there—and that’s if you’re lucky.”
“Since when have you been interested in a meaningful relationship? Your last firefighter girlfriend turned out to be a porn actress.”
Ryan thought of his ex, Amber, a firefighter on his Mendocino Hotshot crew. Last he heard she had indeed quit firefighting to make adult films. “She left firefighting to work naked. All I could figure was it paid more and wasn’t as physically demanding.”
Gunnar grinned. “That’s debatable. I’ve always thought firefighters made the best girlfriends. They’re strong, built well, and you don’t have to explain how dangerous your job is.”
“Sounds like dating a truck. I no longer date people I work with. Remember the woman I dated on our California crew?”
“She dumped you because she preferred women. She was only passing time with you.”
“Thanks for the ego boost, asshole.” Ryan made a face.
“So, date one you won’t be working with. You won’t be working with the three standouts in our training class after this week.”
“Standouts?”
Gunnar gave him his you’re-a-dumbass look. “Liz Skowran, Angela Divina and Miss Waters. I happen to know Liz dances at a strip club in the off season.”
Ryan narrowed his eyes. “How’d you come by that info?” Gunnar had an inside pipeline with fire people in every western state. Fire was a small world.
“My buddies on the Black Mountain Hotshots in Carson City. They go to Reno for her shows because one of them dates her. He says she’s a good dancer, knows her way around a pole.
“Well, up here she’s a firefighter, so it’s best to remember that,” said Ryan dryly.
“Then there’s the lovely Miss Divina. I go weak in the knees for Southern belles. And on that note, it’s time to hit the hay so I can fantasize.” Gunnar yawned, scratching his chest.
“Wait until after training.” Ryan recalled the first day when Angela had unbuttoned the first few buttons on her fire shirt. Until then, he’d never thought of yellow Nomex as sexy. Even so, Angela held no interest for him.
“I know you. You won’t be able to stick to your rule of not dating trainees.”
“I’m offended by your lack of faith.” Ryan helped Gunnar lay out the chutes to hang in the Loft the next morning.
“Not to change the subject, but what time are we flying to Denali tomorrow?” asked Gunnar.
“Be behind the barracks by half past three. Mel will drive us to the airport. I’m releasing class early so people can prepare for fitness tests Thursday.” Ryan pointed at him. “Bring a jacket and don’t forget your camera.”
“Yes, Grandpa. Anything else?”
“Thanks for getting us ready for tomorrow. You don’t suck so bad.”
“All right, but you’re still ugly.” Gunnar thumbed his nose and made his exit.
Ryan opened a drawer in the jump desk and lifted his tatum, the paper-sized metal container where he stored paperwork. He referred to it as his portable office. Unclipping the tablet from his well-worn clipboard, he inserted it in the tatum, and snapped it shut. Remembering the stack of exams, he grabbed them and headed out.
He approached the Ops office on the other end of the Ready Room, where his
