Smolde: Military Reverse Harem Romance

by Cassie Cole

  The handline was complete.

  A smattering of cheers went up among the group, and we exchanged high-fives. The air horns went off moments later, a piercing sound which cut through everything else and echoed through the valley.

  “Hell yeah!” Foxy said as he jogged down the handline. He slapped me on the arm as I fell in beside him. “Fucking nailed it! Aced the damn test!”

  “We did alright, didn’t we?” I said.

  “Better than alright. We’re the fucking best.” He let out a maniacal laugh. “Pretty sure we’re all graduating now. I need a drink. Do you need a drink? Let’s go get some drinks.”

  “I’ll buy the first round,” I responded. A grin split my face against my will. Pure joy bubbled up in fits of exhausted laughter.

  *

  An old yellow school bus was waiting for us at the drop zone to take us back to base. Everyone wore smiles as we loaded up our gear and then hopped inside. I grabbed a seat by the front, and then Derek slid in beside me.

  “You did good out there,” he said quietly.

  “Thanks.”

  There was an intensity in his crystal-blue gaze. He smelled heavily of wood smoke and chainsaw fumes, but underneath it all I caught a hint of his musk. Deep and primal, the way a man should smell.

  Keep it in your pants, Haley, I told myself.

  “I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he said. “You saved my ass.”

  “Just doing my job,” I said awkwardly. “I’m sure you’ll return the favor someday.”

  “Depending on where we all get sent.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Lot of smokejumping bases out here.”

  He was right. There were two smokejumping bases here in Idaho, two more in Montana, and single bases in California, Oregon, and Washington. Now that smokejumping school was over, we’d probably get spread out all over the country.

  The thought made me sad. I was just getting to know some of these guys—especially Derek. I’d have to start all over at a new base.

  “Where do you think you’ll get sent?” I asked.

  Still with his eyes closed, Derek shrugged. “That huge Shasta Wildfire in California has Redding overloaded. I figure they’ll send reinforcements from the other bases there, and use us rookies to fill in the gaps left at the other bases.”

  “Makes sense,” I said. They wouldn’t send a bunch of newbies straight to the middle of the California inferno.

  Foxy climbed up into the bus with a huge grin on his face. His skin was so dark with soot that I couldn’t tell where his beard began and ended. His fire uniform was unbuttoned down the front, revealing part of a dark chest tattoo that ran across his pecks and collarbone.

  “For those of us keeping score: smokejumpers, one. Fire, zero! Yeah baby!” He high-fived everyone on the bus as he walked down the aisle, and cheers went up among the group.

  Everyone was in good spirits as we rode back to base. There was nothing sweeter than coming back from a jump. Both because we were successful, and because nothing had gone wrong. I couldn’t imagine how it felt after a real fire, rather than a controlled burn.

  McCall Smokejumper School was on the south end of McCall, Idaho. It was comprised of a few buildings attached to the runway where our C23 Sherpas were waiting. The bus pulled up to the storage building and then we unloaded all our gear. My muscles ached from sitting on the bus, but I didn’t complain. Nobody did. We were happy to be home, where the air was fresh and the colorful sunset spread wide above us.

  I jogged to catch up to Foxy as the entire team strode into base. “Hey, I’ve got a favor to ask. Don’t tell anyone what I said on the plane. About being afraid.”

  He frowned over at me as we walked, then raised his voice. “Y’all, I was scared shitless out there! How about the rest of you?”

  “Prayed to Jesus every hour on the hour,” replied another jumper.

  “I was shaking so bad the spotter said I was going to vibrate out of the plane!” someone else laughed.

  Foxy slapped me on the back and lowered his voice. “Hope that makes you feel better. But I’ll keep it to myself anyways.”

  His hand was warm and comforting on my back. “Appreciate it.”

  “Anytime. See you later for that drink, alright?” He flashed me a final smile and then we split off into our separate locker rooms.

  Being the only woman was a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, I was happy to have a separate locker room all to myself. On the other hand, it made me feel lonely. As I stripped my clothes and stepped into the shower, I could hear all the guys laughing and shouting in the locker room next door. They were having a great time, like a football team that was celebrating after winning the championship.

  It made me feel excluded.

  But I was one of the few women in the Air Force Academy five years ago, and again when I was stationed at Seymour Johnson Air Force Base. By now, I was used to feeling alone.

  I hung my head under the shower and let the water rinse me clean. The steam in the shower brought out and intensified the smell of smoke in the air as it ran out of my hair and off my skin. It brought back the memories of the day and night we’d spent in the forest. Already it felt like it had happened years ago, to a different person. Like I was someone different now that it was over.

  We passed, I thought while watching the water run black into the drain. We passed smokejumping school!

  I’d worked so hard to get to this point, training every day for three years until I was a good enough firefighter, a good enough jumper, and physically fit enough to pass all the requirements as the men. I allowed myself a moment of emotion, and my tears of joy were lost in the stream of scalding water.

  I dressed in civilian clothes rather than my Forest Service uniform, then left the smokejumper barracks. The local bar we all frequented was called the Broken Antler, and it was within walking distance of the base. The interior was rustic and every wall was covered with stuffed animal heads, and the smell of stale beer and grilled hamburgers filled my nose. The sound of billiard balls clacking together drifted from the bar side of the room.

  The bar was packed. Some of the other smokejumpers had pushed together two huge tables in the middle of the room, where the most boisterous guys were laughing and shouting loudly. Spread out around them at other tables were some of the quieter jumpers, hanging out in twos and threes.

  I lingered in the doorway of the bar, wondering what to do. Although I had a good working relationship with everyone at the jump school, I wouldn’t consider myself friends with many of them. Derek was the closest thing to a friend, but mostly we just exchanged harmless flirting. I didn’t see him, though. The big tables in the center were full, so I searched the outer tables for someone I felt comfortable enough to join. Every second that went by, awkwardness crept deeper and deeper into my throat. Like I was the outcast at the high school cafeteria who nobody wanted to sit with.

  Foxy’s cheerful voice cut through the bar noise. “Hinch!” He stood up and waved from the big table. “I saved ya a spot!”

  I sighed with relief and joined him. He shouldered the guy next to him to make room for me on the bench, then grabbed two pitchers of beer from the table.

  “Flashpoint,” he hefted one pitcher, “or Initial Attack?”

  Thanks to the bar’s proximity to the smokejumper base, all the beers had firefighting-themed names. “Flashpoint,” I said. “I need something strong after today.”

  “Good answer.” Foxy filled a glass, handed it to me, and then raised his own glass. “To Hinch,” he announced to the bar. “One of the most bad-ass smokejumpers in our class, despite not having any balls!”

  I grinned and raised my glass. “It’s because I don’t have any balls,” I loudly said to the group. “After seeing Carter rupture one of his in the landing last month, I wouldn’t trade tits for testes if you paid me!”

  Everyone at our table roared with laughter. I relaxed a little bit. Five years in the Air Force had taught me to
always be ready with a witty response. Sometimes it felt like walking a tightrope. If I didn’t respond, the guys would think I was easily offended and weak. If I teased them too much, they would call me a bitch.

  “Wasn’t sure if you’d come out,” Foxy said while sipping his beer. He licked foam from his dark beard and grinned. “Most of us are running on fumes.”

  I took a long pull of my beer. “I am too. But there’s always enough energy to celebrate.”

  “I’ll drink to that.”

  The jukebox music switched from Houses of the Holy to You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling. Three of the guys in the bar started cheering, but the majority of the bar’s patrons shouted and complained and threw their beer coasters like frisbees. I chuckled to myself while a small battle went on for the jukebox. The smokejumpers program attracted recruits from various fire departments and hotshots programs, but it also drew heavily from the armed forces. The song playing was a Navy favorite thanks to Top Gun, although all the Army, Air Force, and Marines couldn’t stand it.

  Foxy was one of the guys clapping with approval. I elbowed him in the ribs and said, “Don’t tell me you’re a squid.”

  “Watch your tongue, zoomie,” he said, casually using the slang for my branch of the armed forces. His smile took away the sting of what might otherwise be an insult. “I wanted to see real action, rather than just sit around in the Chair Force.”

  “Some kids played with their rubber duckies in the bathtub too long,” I shot back with ease. “Nothing wrong with that.”

  He looked both ways and then leaned in close. I could smell the beer on his breath, and the deeper scent of his cologne. “Keep a secret? I don’t like the open ocean. Never have. That’s why I prefer to be on boats, above the water.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll keep your secret since you’re keeping mine.”

  The handsome man grinned wolfishly. “It’s a deal.”

  Someone over by the bar shouted loud enough for the entire room to hear. “Hey Sale! Heard you got stuck in a tree out there!”

  I hadn’t noticed him before now, but Derek Sale had entered the bar and was accepting a glass of dark liquor from the bartender. He’d cleaned himself up nicely—he wore faded jeans and a tight polo shirt that made it clear he spent a lot of time in the gym. With his square jaw and wavy blond hair, he looked like a stereotypical all-American boy next door.

  Derek smiled politely at the jab. “Well, it wasn’t as if I could do anything about it. Our jump was blind, thanks to all the smoke. I landed where I landed by luck.”

  The man who had called him out scoffed loudly. By the looks of him and his friends, they were part of the ground crew back at base. Not smokejumper trainees. “I would’ve cut myself loose. If you’re afraid of falling down, then stay off the playground, kid.”

  The cheesy, rehearsed line drew a laugh from the cluster of guys at the table. Derek showed them his middle finger, but it didn’t dissuade them from continuing their ridicule. I heard the phrase, “pussy,” and “limp-dick wimp,” through the bar noise. Unlike most of our teasing, there was nothing good-natured about it.

  And while looking at Derek, I just couldn’t help myself.

  “He was too high,” I said loudly. A dozen sets of eyes swung in my direction, including the guys at the table who were insulting Derek. “Cutting yourself loose without knowing your distance to the ground is a good way to break your legs. Then you’d need a lot more rescuing than just getting cut out of a tree.”

  The taunter blinked at me. He was thin, with as many teeth as he had brain cells. “Wait. Hold on just one second. Sale got rescued by you?” He scoffed. “Sale got rescued by a…”

  “A what?” I demanded, knocking my chair back as I got to my feet. I stared the man down like a new dog at the dog park. “He needed to be rescued by a what?”

  The man hesitated. His eyes flicked around the room, which was drawing quiet except for the soft music of the jukebox. “You’ve lost that loooooving feeeeeeeeling…” My fellow smokejumpers stared at the man, waiting for what he would say.

  Foxy suddenly stood up next to me. He put an arm around my shoulder and laughed loudly. “Sure, she’s a Chair Force zoomie. But that don’t mean she’s not the most bad-ass smokejumper here. After all the work she did today, I know who I want rescuing me from a tree.”

  The men at the table grunted and turned back around. If they continued making fun of us, they did so under their breath so nobody else could hear. That was good enough for the tables of smokejumpers, who all resumed their conversations.

  “That’s twice you’ve complimented me publicly,” I told Foxy as we sat back down. “If you’re not careful, people are going to think you have the hots for me.”

  Foxy refilled both of our beers from a pitcher. “Shit Hinch, I don’t care if they think that.” He leaned in close and lowered his voice like he was going to tell me a secret. “You may not know this, but you’re hot as fuck.”

  I laughed and took a sip of beer to cover my blush. “Haley.”

  “Hmm?”

  “You can call me Haley,” I said. “It feels weird calling you Foxy while you’re using my last name.”

  He gave me a look. “Yeah, I can do that. You want a burger, Haley? All the jumpers eat free tonight.”

  “I’m hungry enough to eat three burgers,” I said truthfully, “but I’ll start with one, sure.”

  I smiled as I watched him get up and go to the bar to order. Foxy was already a tall glass of cuteness, but his personality drove it over the top. I wondered how much fun we would have tonight.

  As I turned my attention back to my beer glass, my gaze passed over Derek. He was still nursing his glass of liquor in the corner, and his blue eyes were locked onto me. As soon as I caught him, he quickly turned away and ran a hand through his wavy blond hair.

  Wonder what he’s thinking, I thought as Foxy returned with two plates of food.

  3

  Haley

  “Wait, the Wings of Green?” Foxy asked. “I thought the Ninety-Eighth Flying Squadron was nicknamed the Wings of Blue.”

  We were walking home from the bar together. I was four beers deep and he’d had at least six, but neither of us were sloppy drunk. Just tipsy. The same couldn’t be said for some of the other jumpers who were staggering home ahead of us.

  “Wings of Green is the cadet program that feeds into the Wings of Blue,” I explained. “I did a year of that after getting my standard jump wings, but didn’t go any further.”

  Foxy groaned. “Let me guess. They didn’t let you into the Ninety-Eighth Flying Squadron because you’re a woman.”

  I laughed. “Actually, it was my decision. I decided not to apply.”

  “You decided not to apply?” Foxy was incredulous. “To the most prestigious jump group in the entire Air Force?”

  “The Ninety-Eighth is a training squadron,” I complained. It was the same conversation I’d had with my father years ago, when I first made the decision. “I don’t want to go around the country training other people. Anyone can jump out of a plane. I wanted to do something with that skill, you know?”

  Foxy scratched the dark beard that covered his jaw. “I respect the hell out of that. Most guys I knew in the Navy just wanted to collect enough service time to retire. So, what then? You got yourself discharged and came here?”

  I shook my head. “I went home first. Back to North Carolina. Joined my local volunteer fire department, and found that work thrilling. Going into a burning building and saving someone’s life. Made me feel like I really mattered. Nothing I ever did in the Air Force gave me that feeling.”

  Foxy nodded. “Yeah, I get that. I was in a fire control team on the USS Carl Vinson. Putting out fires on the flight deck. Didn’t happen often, but when it did…” He let out a long sigh. “Pulled a pilot out of a burning F-35 cockpit one time. The way he clung to me when we got to safety… I’ll never forget that feeling.”

  “That’s amazing,” I said soft
ly.

  Suddenly the serious look on his face was replaced by a big smile. “Guy sends me a Christmas card every year. He’s got a family now. His son’s ugly as hell, but he’s here in part because of me.”

  “Hopefully we can do some good as smokejumpers,” I said. “Save some lives.”

  “Hopefully.”

  We reached the barracks and came to the split in the hallway where we would go our separate ways. We both stopped and looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

  Foxy’s smile was easy and disarming. His v-neck shirt gave me a glimpse of a chest covered with tattoos which crept up to his neckline and collarbone. Dark flowers, like there was a garden just out of sight on his chest. Four beers deep, I wanted to run my fingers along the ink, tracing every rose and petal.

  I wanted to do a lot more than that.

  Foxy’s arms folded around my body. He was strong—so strong, enough that I felt vulnerable and safe in his arms, like he would protect me from all the fires out in the real world. His hand settled into the small of my back and pulled me against him. A tingle went up my spine as our bodies touched.

  “Tonight’s our last night on base,” he said, voice a low rumble. “We may never see each other again.”

  I bit my lip. I wanted him so badly, and I was terrified that all he would do is hug me…

  But he did more than that. He leaned in and his lips caressed against mine. I parted my lips for his, and our tongues danced together with passion. It was the exhaustion of the final jump we’d made, the elation and excitement of passing jump school, and the alcohol mixed together. The world around us disappeared until it was just the beautiful smokejumper in my arms and his lips and tongue and the bulge of his cock pressing against me through his jeans, and all I could think about was how it would feel buried deep inside my pussy…