by Cassie Cole
His palm slid underneath my rump and cupped one cheek, while smiling lustily at me.
I giggled and slapped his arm away. “We’ll just have to play grab-ass tonight instead.”
“Oh, I intend to grab a lot more than just your ass,” he said in a low voice.
“I’ll be doing plenty of grabbing myself.” I reached across and felt the front of his jumpsuit. It wasn’t difficult to find his cock—it was rock hard and pressing against the front. “Damn dude. Touching my ass is enough to get you hard?”
“Babe,” he said with a lazy smile, “just setting eyes on your beautiful face is enough to get me to half-mast.”
Before I could respond, one of the other jumpers was climbing up into the bus. Foxy patted me on the thigh and then slid around and into the seat behind me. He began humming a wordless tune to himself.
Once the gear was loaded onto the bus, the other jumpers climbed onto the bus and grabbed seats. Trace was the last one on. He’d stripped the upper half of his jumpsuit down to the tank top underneath. His bulging muscles glistened with sweat and grime, making him look like something out of a fireman’s calendar.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I need a drink,” he declared.
We all voiced our agreement in shouts and cheers.
The ride home was slow and bumpy, since we had to traverse old fire roads and then dirt roads through the valley before we reached actual pavement. I twisted in my seat to look at Foxy, and found him grinning right back at me with a knowing look in his eyes.
I didn’t stop smiling all the way back to base.
It was dark when we finally pulled into Redding. The north team must have had a shorter walk to get to their bus, because they were already home and unloading their gear in the warehouse.
“Hey, thanks for the primo chainsaw,” I told Brinkley when we joined them. I hefted it in the air. “She’s a beauty.”
“The prom queen of chainsaws,” he agreed, carefully taking it from my hands. “I’m happy she was good to you. And I hear you did some great work with her.”
“Hell yeah we did,” Foxy announced loudly. “Glad word has spread of our feats.”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t get too cocky,” one of the others said. “You all are alright, but you’re not hot shit just yet.”
I smiled to myself. I’m happy with being alright.
Once we’d showered and changed into clean clothes, we lined up for dinner. When it was my turn, the guy who had kitchen duty gave me a healthy helping of alfredo noodles and sauce, and then three spoonfuls of chicken.
“Looks like we finally proved ourselves,” I said to Derek as we left the food line. He had received just as much food as I had.
“That’s how it always is,” he replied. “Have to prove it first.”
“Hinch! Sale! There’s room down here,” one of the jumpers waved for us to join them in the middle of the table.
I exchanged a look with Derek and then joined the other jumpers.
“Don’t mind Joey, he just wants some extra chicken,” Brinkley told me.
Joey was aiming a fork toward my plate, then stopped in mid-air. “Nuh uh. I was just being friendly.”
“Friendly to you means food,” Brinkley said dryly. “Let them eat their fill. They’ve earned it.”
I smiled in thanks and chowed down.
“Anyone know when the debriefing is?” someone asked.
“Hadn’t heard from the Commander yet,” Trace said as he joined us. His huge frame filled the seat across from me. “He’s still spotting for the other hotshots teams on the ground. I wouldn’t go to sleep until he’s back at base, though. Unless you want to crawl out of bed for a late debriefing.”
“I’ve got somethin’ that’ll keep us awake,” Brinkley said. A few of his buddies grinned and nudged him.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“You’ll see. There’s some with your name on it, Hinch.”
“Hinch was my dad,” I said around a mouthful of chicken. “Call me Haley. Or bitch, if I deserve it.” I pointed with my fork. “But only if I deserve it.”
“And if I call you a bitch when you don’t deserve it?” asked one of the guys with a Boston accent. Ramirez, I thought.
I smiled sweetly. “Then I’ll make you my bitch. And not in the good way!”
The table roared with laughter. Ramirez held up both hands as if to say, okay, okay, I don’t want to mess with you.
It turns out that Brinkley was talking about a handle of Jack Daniels whiskey. We gathered on the couches and chairs, turned on an old movie on TBS on the television, and started passing around the bottle of whiskey with tiny paper cups. When everyone had one, Trace stood up and raised his cup high.
“To a day of hard work, and another night alive,” he toasted.
We all murmured our agreement and took sips. The liquor ran down my throat, spreading delicious fire along the way.
“So,” Ramirez said. “I heard you guys had a hot air drop.”
“Tell me about it,” I said.
“Someone fucked up for sure,” Foxy agreed. “Pilot said the first group drifted too far with the wind, so they dropped us closer to the fire to account for it. Only the wind must’ve stopped, because we dropped right down into the thick of it.”
Brinkley frowned. “The pilot said that?”
“Yeah, why?” Derek asked.
Brinkley shook his head slightly. “Our drop went fine. Didn’t get pushed by the wind at all. No idea why he thought he needed to adjust the second drop group.”
I glanced at Derek. His face was blank, but I knew a poker face when I saw one. His mind was racing behind those crystal blue eyes.
Foxy glanced at me and then casually asked, “That happen often around here?”
Trace shrugged his massive shoulders. “Shit goes hairy sometimes, sure. But not often.”
“We’ve had a tough month,” someone else said. “This wildfire has everyone strained to the edge. That’s how mistakes happen.”
“Toughest I’ve seen in twenty years,” Brinkley declared. “Although it’s not as bad as that.”
We all looked at the TV. During the commercial, a newscaster was showing footage of the fires down in the Brazilian Amazon. A section of rainforest too large to imagine was on fire, belching black smoke into the sky.
“Two million acres, gone like that.” I snapped my fingers.
“Two million so far,” Derek said. “That shit hasn’t showed any signs of slowing down.”
“Nor will it, until the rainy season in December,” Trace rumbled.
I stared at the video playing on the screen. It was incomprehensible. Here in the Cascades, we had small valleys where we could create chokepoints to block the spread of fire. But down in the Amazon? They didn’t have terrain they could use to their advantage. The fire just spread and spread and spread, and there was little that anyone could do about it.
It would take millions of firefighters to contain that.
“What’s going on in here?”
I turned to see Commander Callaway standing in the doorway leading to the runway. He still wore his jumpsuit; he must have just landed.
“Good to see you, Commander,” Trace quickly said. “We’re relaxing after a successful mission, sir.”
Callaway approached and crossed his thin arms over his wiry chest. “And what is it you all are drinking?”
Across the room, Brinkley carefully used his heel to slide the bottle of whiskey out of sight.
“Kool-Aid, sir,” Foxy said. “I brought Kool-Aid for the rest of the team.”
Callaway’s gaze was stiff. “What flavor is that?”
Foxy’s face turned white. “Uh, it’s, um, brown-flavored, sir.”
“Excellent,” Callaway said dryly. “Brown’s my favorite flavor. I myself love a refreshing cup of Kool-Aid after a long day keeping mother nature at bay.” He held out his hand expectantly.
“We are, uh, all out, sir,” Brinkley said nervously.
“That’s absolutely fine, because Fox here learned that sharing is caring. Do you mind, Fox?”
“Not at all, sir.” Foxy quickly handed him his paper cup, which was filled to the brim with dark liquid.
I watched Callaway raise the cup. Foxy’s about to get busted, and it’s not even his contraband. Brinkley was shifting from one foot to the other, wondering if he should take the blame, but no words came from his mouth.
Callaway brought the cup to his lips and began drinking. One gulp, two gulps, three gulps and the cup was empty. Callaway smacked his lips and handed the cup back to Foxy.
“That’s the best Kool-Aid I’ve ever tasted,” he declared with the tone of a drill sergeant who was satisfied. “We’ll have the debriefing in the morning. Enjoy the rest of your evening, jumpers. You earned it.”
Foxy practically fainted back into his chair when Callaway left. “I thought I was getting busted!”
The other jumpers chuckled. Trace said, “Commander is usually relaxed on rules, so long as they’re not flagrantly broken.”
Brinkley jabbed a finger at us and added, “So make sure none of you are ever staggering drunk around base, or he’ll tighten the rules up real quick.”
“Don’t worry about us,” Derek said. “We can hold our booze. Especially Haley.”
We spent the next thirty minutes arguing about who had the strongest liver. Eventually I bid everyone goodnight and retired to my room.
I shared a glance with Foxy before I went.
I got back to my room, changed out of my Forest Service uniform, and put on some sexy underwear and pajamas. Before I could finish tying the draw string, there was a soft knock on the door. I opened it and allowed Foxy to slip inside.
He held out two paper cups filled with dark liquid. “I come bearing gifts.”
I took one from him and smiled. “Trying to get me drunk?”
“Babe, I don’t need to get you drunk.”
I giggled. “So you’ve come to grab that ass?”
Foxy sat in the chair next to the bed and stretched out his legs. “I told you on the bus. I intend to do a lot more to your ass than just grab it.”
I bit my lip. “Like what?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
I took a sip of whiskey. “Waiting’s no fun. I want it now.”
“My dad taught me that hunger is the best spice,” he replied.
I took a step toward him, intending to sit in his lap and convince him there was no better time than the present.
But then someone knocked on the door.
We both flinched, and I said, “Uh, come in?”
Derek stuck his head in and held up a backpack. “I brought a six-pack in case you wanted more than just—oh.” His eyes fell on Foxy.
“Sup man,” Foxy said smoothly. “You brought more booze?”
“Sure, we can all share,” Derek said. He stepped inside and closed the door, like a student who had stumbled into the wrong classroom and was too embarrassed to turn back now. He pulled a six-pack out of his backpack and held it up. “Coors Light is the only beer at the gas station.”
I made myself snap out of my own awkward stupor and take a beer. “Thanks, Derek.”
“My favorite brand is whatever’s free,” Foxy said, taking a bottle and twisting off the cap. “Appreciate it.”
Derek took the second chair, and I sat on the bed. For a few moments we all sort of awkwardly sipped on our beers.
“Good to see you in a better mood, dude,” Foxy said to Derek. “Got over the first week jitters?”
Derek’s cobalt eyes flitted toward me. “I realized my attitude was toxic. So I made a change.”
Foxy shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing wrong with being a pessimist. But you can’t be fatalistic about it all the time.”
Derek smiled genuinely and touched his glass to Foxy’s. “Cheers to burying it deep down along with my other feelings.”
They both laughed. I found myself joining them. After today, it felt good to laugh at ourselves.
“Speaking of pessimism,” Foxy said, “I’ll take the lead tonight. What in the cinnamon toast fuck happened with our airdrop?”
“Right?” I asked.
“I was inclined to think it was an accident, since the pilot and spotter had a good excuse. But when the other jumpers said the wind didn’t affect them…”
“Maybe it looked like it affected them?” I suggested. “The smoke swirling might have distorted their view. Like an optical illusion.”
“I doubt it,” Derek said. He held up a hand. “Not to be fatalistic about it. But I think it was intentional.”
I cocked my head. “You think the pilot or spotter had it out for us? Like, rookie hazing?”
Derek finished his beer in one long pull and twisted open a second. “I think someone has it out for us.”
I frowned at him. There was something there, just beneath the surface. Something he was holding back. And by the look on his face, he wasn’t going to tell us tonight.
“Forget all of that,” Derek said, suddenly changing subjects. “What’s up with you two?” He tipped the head of his beer bottle back and forth between us.
I swallowed the bile creeping up the back of my throat. “What do you mean?”
Derek squinted suspiciously. “Oh come on. I can tell.”
“You jealous?” Foxy asked.
“I’m just pointing out what I see.”
“Because you of all people ought to be jealous,” Foxy said casually.
Derek flinched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh come on,” Foxy said, mimicking Derek’s words and tone from a few seconds before. “Everyone at McCall knew you had a big fat crush on Haley.”
The fair skin on Derek’s cheeks turned three different shades of red while he examined his beer label. Feeling bad for him, I cut in and said, “We don’t need to talk about this…”
“No, he’s right,” Derek interrupted. He met my gaze and held it steadily, and he sounded like he was speaking from the heart. “I had a crush on you. It was tough not to. I mean… look at you. Even if you weren’t the only woman in our jump group, you’d still be the most beautiful woman around.”
“Right, because my jumpsuit is so flattering,” I said to disarm the situation.
“It doesn’t matter what you wear. You look amazing in everything, Haley. And it’s not about the clothes. You’re funny, and passionate about smokejumping, and more capable than all the other guys in our team. More capable than anyone I ever worked with in the Army.” He spread his hands. “You’re special, Haley. I just want to make sure you know that.”
Derek was smiling apologetically by the end, as if what he had said was an inconvenience. He wasn’t angry, or pessimistic, or awkward at all right now. He was back to being the sweet, charming, and totally cute guy I liked from smokejumper school. And totally sexy, too, wearing a tight-fitting t-shirt with a bump in the chest where his dog tags were.
A lump had formed in my throat, one I couldn’t push back down. I practically melted when Derek’s smile widened on his face. My attraction to him in that moment was intense, and I wanted him badly…
Then I remembered who else was in the room.
I glanced at Foxy. He was still leaning back in his chair, totally relaxed with the situation. And eyeing me closely. He winked, and I remembered what we had talked about the last time we were together. A shame it’s not real, he had said about the toy we had played with. And how he wouldn’t mind sharing me with another guy, if it was the right person.
A tingle of excitement ran up my legs at the thought. I doubt Derek would go for something like that. But there was only one way to find out, and we had all had enough drinks to loosen our inhibitions…
I gave Foxy one final look, and he nodded imperceptibly.
“I have to admit something too,” I said to Derek. “I had a crush on you too.”
He leaned back an inch. “Seriously?”
I bit my lip. “Mmm hmm.”
Derek shook his head in shock. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Same reason you didn’t,” I said, putting my beer down and rising from the bed. “I was nervous.”
Derek’s mouth closed as I walked toward him. “And now?”
I planted my feet on either side of him in the chair and sat in his lap. I draped my arms around his neck and said, “Now there’s nothing stopping us.”
His mouth rose up to meet me as I kissed him, tentative at first but then hungry like I was a meal he’d been waiting to bite into for too long. I melted under the sensation of his lips against mine, warm and wet and masculine, until he pulled back.
“What about, uh, him?”
I glanced at Foxy, who was sipping his beer and watching us with a smile on his face. “You asked what was up with Foxy and me. This is your answer.”
I kissed him again to drown out any protests he might have, because I didn’t want to hear them. I couldn’t stand the idea of him not being okay with this, because I needed him as deeply as I needed Foxy, and having them in the same room at the same time was driving me wild in a way I never expected. Fortunately, Derek sighed into my mouth while I straddled him, kissing me back twice as hard and pulling me toward him with a strong hand placed on my back. Another hand slid around and cupped my ass through my pajamas, and I responded by moaning and shoving my tongue into his mouth.
Suddenly there were new hands touching me from behind, pulling my pajama top over my torso to reveal my breasts. Derek stopped kissing me to allow the shirt to pass, and glanced over my shoulder with a look of confusion and wariness.
“Just helping y’all along,” Foxy said, kissing my neck once and returning to his chair. “I’m just a bystander from this point on.”
“Is this okay?” I asked Derek.
“Uh huh.”
“Are you sure? It’s not weird?”
“It’s a little weird,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. “But it’s kind of hot, too.”
“Right?” Foxy said, along with what sounded like a belt buckle being opened.
Derek’s tongue was back inside my mouth before I could agree with them. Foxy was a good kisser—more than good, to be honest—but Derek was something else. He was a professional. His lips and tongue moved against my own in an erotic way that made me imagine how it would feel against my pussy. I ground my ass into his crotch, and felt the bulge there as he responded by thrusting up into me.
