He snuck a quick peek, but long enough to notice the graceful lines of her neck. Should he introduce himself as the guy who’d prevented her from certain death? No, too cheesy and egotistical. No firefighter cared to admit having to be rescued. He’d think on it. First, he needed rest. He closed his manual, shoved it under the seat in front of him, and covered his face with his baseball cap. Dozing on a bumpy flight was not a problem; he could sleep on jagged rocks wrapped in razor wire in a hurricane.
The steady drone of the plane settled him into comfortable bliss. He burrowed deep into softness. Suddenly, Zombie, his jump boss, tapped him awake. He yelped in surprise, forcing his eyelids open. Zombie wasn’t the culprit tapping his thigh…his gorgeous, red-haired seat mate was. He removed the baseball cap and lifted his head from her shoulder.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to…” he mumbled, smoothing his hair back. Heat flooded his face.
She chuckled. “You must have needed a nap.”
He pressed his forearms on the armrests to sit up straight. “Sleep is a rare commodity this time of year.”
“Tell me about it.”
The plane crabbed left and jerked right, causing his knee to bump hers.
She flinched, then stiffened. “Flying isn’t my favorite.”
“Alaska Airlines pilots are the best. You’re safe. You’ll be okay.”
Her head swiveled to him. “What did you say?”
He stared at the intense, green jewels he remembered from the first time he’d looked into them. He waited for her to figure it out.
It took a moment before she lit up. “You’re the one. The smokejumper from Alaska. You said the same thing to me.” Her expression changed to quizzical.
Time to come clean. He grinned. “Yeah, I’m the one. What did I say exactly?” He hadn’t a clue. He was discombobulated by her lovely face. Stop staring at her, moron.
“Yes. That I’d be safe and okay.” She drew back, eyes wide with discovery. “You're Jim Dolan’s friend. Why didn’t you say something?”
“I didn’t want to put you on the spot.” He kept smiling and shrugging like an idiot.
“So, you’re the Alaskan smokejumper who helped me.”
“Ryan O’Connor. And you’re Tara Waters, right? Pleased to meet you again.” He extended a hand.
Her gaze dropped to his callused hand. She accepted it with a puzzled expression. “I told you my first name on the fire, but how do you know my last name?”
He groped his brain for a quick explanation. “Uh, your…your crew boss mentioned it.”
She cocked a brow. “What did Jim tell you about me?"
The jet touched down hard at Fairbanks International Airport and she pulled her hand away. Whew, saved by the landing. As the wheels pressed the runway, the engines amped and drag pulled him against his seat. He leaned forward to look out the window. Scrawny black spruce and a grazing moose whizzed by.
The long-bodied plane lurched to a halt and passengers heaved forward in unison, then thudded back against their seats. The pilots cut the engines, turned off the seatbelt sign, and people spilled into the aisle, collecting their booty from overhead bins.
“Sorry I didn’t recognize you earlier.” Tara leaned back, staring at Ryan, as if he had just parachuted into his seat. “And here we are, sitting right next to each other.”
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “What were the chances?” Who cares? He loved life’s little flukes.
Ryan unbuckled his seatbelt and continued smiling like a doofus. She was gorgeous. Don’t ask how I know your last name. Jim had warned him that she wasn’t to know he’d asked Ryan to watch out for her. He’d almost blown it.
“Uh, how are you doing after the…after the Montana fire?” he asked, aiming for casual.
“Not bad. Just the usual night terrors, curled up in a fetal position.” Her unblinking green gaze fixed on him.
“Yeah. That sucks.” He knew all too well how much it sucked and wished he didn’t.
She gave him a partial smile. “I’m kidding. I’m doing okay.”
“Sorry I intervened, but…” He stopped, letting his words dangle. He didn’t want to make her feel worse.
Her toe tapped the floor. “Don’t worry. You did what you had to. I would have done the same.” She looked away from him.
“If you want to talk about it sometime…” he trailed off. Dammit.
“Thanks, but I’m good.” She said it in a way that he knew to back off.
“The agency advises counseling after a line of duty death. I can hook you up with some names. But just so you know, I’m a good listener.” Shit. He’d waded in too deep, judging by the furrows in her forehead.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” What a beauty. She had green eyes like Alaskan birch leaves, and dark red hair the color of manzanita bark in California chaparral. Ryan couldn’t help comparing everything to trees.
“Sounds good.” A dull ache throbbed Ryan’s knees when he stood to deplane. He shook out each leg. Hiking steep terrain had done a number on him. He wasn’t twenty anymore. He'd piled on another decade. When he retrieved his pack from the overhead bin, he spotted a second, similar one. “This fire pack must be yours.”
She nodded.
“Here you go.” As he plucked her seasoned pack from the bin, he noticed its frayed corners and a faded U.S. Forest Service patch on the front. Dark smudges lined the weave of the fabric. He inhaled the familiar smell of smoke as he lowered it to her.
“Thanks.” She gave him a quick smile and took it.
He hoisted his daypack to his shoulder and his neck pinched. Couldn’t wait to lie down. A deep tissue massage sounded good right now. “Heading to AFS?”
“Alaska Fire Service. Yes, I am.”
“Follow me to the limo.”
Her mouth hung open and she gawked at him. “Seriously?”
“Poor man’s limo. The white box van variety.” His eyes drifted to her full lips and he glanced away.
“Oh, right. Thanks.” She lifted her muscular, long limbed frame from the seat.
She looked terrific in
