I didn’t move. Instead, I kept staring at him, with my we-can-do-this-the-hard-way-or-we-can-do-it-my-way face.
“All right, you win!” He turned to the remaining revelers. “Come on, you bunch of drunks. We need a bucket brigade to make sure the fire’s out or Smokette the Bear here won’t leave.”
There were some biker types who obligingly went to the creek and brought back several buckets of water. Judging from the huge cloud of steam gushing from the ashes, the fire hadn’t been as close to out as we’d thought.
“Thanks, Rory.” I gave his hand a squeeze.
“Anything to keep my girl happy.”
His girl! Of all the things he could have said, this was the absolute best. My heart melted.
The long ride home was chilly, and I snuggled in close to Rory’s back. The air was fresh with pine scent and the stars, which shone like angels, were lighting the way for us. I could have ridden to the moon with him.
We entered Banff, and I was sad the night was over. The sleepy mountain town was eerily silent in the predawn stillness.
Without warning, the quiet was shattered, and my heart leaped into my throat!
This couldn’t be happening!
CHAPTER SIX
Downs and Ups
The wail of a Royal Canadian Mounted Police cruiser’s siren shocked me and I jerked upright. The flashing blue-and-red lights made my stomach twist. The RCMP were never a good thing. I heard Rory cursing as he pulled over to the side of the road.
This was bad. I was sixteen, drunk, with an eighteen-year-old guy, and I was a runaway, probably a fugitive by now if the tribal police had anything to say about it. I had no ID, and if they wanted to, the Mounties could arrest me, then all my secrets would come spilling out.
When the bike stopped, I climbed off, keeping my goggles on in a kind of semi-disguise. I tried to keep my distance. No sense sharing my beer breath with the officer. Rory swung his leg over the seat, and as he turned, he bumped into me. I was still a little woozy and could feel myself tilting off balance.
Rory reached out and pulled me to him, adding a little squeeze. “Don’t worry. Cops are always hassling me.”
The officer walked toward us and I tensed.
“Evening, folks. License and registration, please.” The constable shone his flashlight on us, stepping closer as he eyed me. I tried for nonchalant, which was about as far from how I felt as you could get.
Rory pulled his helmet off and handed over the documents. “What’s the problem, officer?”
I was amazed at how cool he sounded. The cop read the license, compared the picture to Rory’s face, scanned the registration, and then gave everything back. “Your taillight’s out.”
“What? It was working earlier.” Rory went to the back of the bike, frowning. “Son of a gun! I’ll get it fixed first thing in the morning. Thanks, officer.”
“Kind of late to be out.” The officer eyed me as he spoke.
Rory had the nerve to chuckle. “Actually, it’s kind of early. It was such a nice night for a ride, I guess time got away from us. We’re on our way home now.”
The constable gave us another once-over. “Be sure to get that taillight fixed, son.” He returned to the cruiser, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
Helmeted once more, Rory climbed back on the bike. I tucked in behind him, still shaken up.
As we pulled into the parking lot at the hostel, exhaustion flooded me. I climbed off the bike and removed my helmet and goggles as I waited for Rory. I was sure he’d want to kiss me and hoped my breath didn’t smell too rank.
He leaped off the bike. “Man, close call or what! You were perfect, baby girl.”
Rory moved closer, and I thought he was going to lean in for the big good-night finale. Instead, he reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a small brown bag.
“It could have been a little dicey if Joe Cop had found this.” He stuffed the package into his leather jacket.
A little dicey? Are you kidding?
I was about to protest when Rory put his arms around me. “I had a lot of fun tonight.”
This time he did kiss me, and I saw those sparks again. He was a very good kisser.
“See you tomorrow, or more like later today.” He laughed and climbed back on his bike.
I watched him drive away, not sure if I should be angry or happy. Rory must have slipped the bag into my pocket when he bumped into me at the police stop. I had a good idea what was in it and knew better than to find out. Don’t ask, can’t tell. The chances of the cop checking me were slimmer than for Rory, but if I’d been caught with the bag, I’d have been in deep trouble. Who would believe it wasn’t mine?
I guess Rory figured that since I was a fine upstanding citizen, there was no reason the officer would pat me down. Little did he know. It was so hard to be angry with him, especially when I remembered us howling at the moon as we’d watched those sparks light up the night.
I could see the dawn graying the eastern sky as I walked into the building. Ahead of me loomed my long, long morning shift.
I barely managed to make it through work, and my lack of tips reflected my low level of attention to customers. The schedule listed Monday as my assigned day off. Awesome! I was seriously overdrawn at the sleep bank.
Monday morning I awoke feeling more like my old self. Not that my old self was any screaming wonder, but at least my head didn’t threaten to fall off every time I bent over. I was having a cup of coffee at what I’d come to call the staff table in Cougar Jack’s when Anne came over.
“Feeling better?” she asked, surprising me. I thought I’d flown under the radar with my poor waitressing skills. “Yesterday, you seemed a little under the weather. I had a couple of complaints.”
I had the decency to look guilty. “I’m sorry. It was a touch of the flu. I’m better now.”
Yeah, the “alco-flu.” I hoped she wouldn’t guess that I’d been partying so hard I went straight from buzzed to hungover when I’d come to work, which was just two short hours after Rory and I got back. My new boss was cool and I didn’t want to disappoint her. Tensing, I waited for the inevitable lecture.
“Better is good. I’d hate for you to get one of those nasty summer colds.”
Not what I’d expected, and for some reason, it made me feel worse for lying to her.
We both looked up as Mike walked in wearing coveralls, boots, a hard hat, and a backpack. All he was missing was his shovel and ax and he could have been auditioning for Firefighter’s Monthly.
“I thought I’d find the prettiest girls in Banff sitting here.” He gave his wife a kiss.
“Don’t you have rapattack drills today?” Anne asked.
“We do. I’m here on official business.” He grinned mischievously. “We need coffee.”
“What kind of drills?” I asked, curious.
“The usual. Jumping out of helicopters, slashing brush, hauling axes and shovels, and of course, digging up all of Alberta with those shovels. Total excitement.”
Even though his tone was light, I knew the work was deadly serious. “Do you think I could come and, you know, watch? If it’s allowed, I mean.”
Mike raised an eyebrow at Anne, who shrugged. “It’s her day off. She can do whatever she wants.”
“Fine with me. You’re in charge of the coffee, Robin.”
I jumped up, thrilled to go along. “Sure. How much?”
“How many gallons can you carry?” Mike said with a wink.
We got the coffee and two dozen donuts from the bakery before driving to a deserted fire road east of Canmore, thirty minutes away. I wanted to show off my knowledge and told Mike about a fire being a living thing, needing something to start it going, air to breathe, and food to eat.
He gave me an approving nod. “Smart girl! And I like the analogy. We work on putting Mr. Fire on a diet by removing as much slash, snags, and deadfall as possible.” He turned off the road and into a wide meadow where a hel
icopter and the crew waited.
“We’re going to extend the firebreak at the end of this road to give Canmore protection in case a wildfire comes over that ridge.” Mike pointed to a mountain covered with dark-green pines.
I scanned the ridge. “It’s miles away. There’d be lots of time to put out any fire up there.”
“Robin, you can’t outrun a wildfire. Some move at fourteen miles per hour.”
This shocked me. “So what if I’m caught in one?”
“Rule number one: Get away from the fire as fast as you can. If you’re trapped on the ground, avoid any fuel sources. If possible, try to get into a lake, out from shore. If all else fails, be a gopher—dig a hole, climb in, and then cover yourself. Once the fire’s passed, stay in the black, the part that’s already burned, in case the wind shifts and it comes back.”
I had to laugh. “It would have to be a darn big gopher hole for you to fit into.”
He wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “Today should be fun. The guys are cutting the firebreak, doing rescue work, and practicing with their fire shelters. Plus handling the most important task of all—the coffee and donuts.”
He parked the crew cab and I got the provisions from the backseat.
“Who’s the new recruit, Mike?” One of the firefighters asked as I distributed the coffee.
“This is Robin Pearce. She’s here to see what rapattackers do for fun.”
“You came to the right place, Robin!” one man called.
“We’re number one when it comes to shovels!” another added.
I liked the instant acceptance. For the next two hours, I watched how it was done by professionals. In full gear, complete with fire-resistant coveralls, packs, and tools, they raced to make the new firebreak. They acted as though a real fire were bearing down on them. In the smoldering summer heat, it was tough enough sitting in the shade watching. The actual chopping, shoveling, and digging must have been brutal. Even when they were dripping with sweat, they didn’t complain. I guessed it would be hotter next to a real fire.
After lunch, they each practiced using a fire shelter. These tiny, fireproof tents reflect the radiant heat away from what’s inside and keep people from being burned alive. The idea was that if a fire overran one of the crew, they’d crawl inside, lie facedown, and breathe the cool air closest to the ground.
“Worst-case scenario, you’re trapped in a blaze,” Mike explained. “Your only chance is a fire shelter, which is why my guys practice until they can deploy them in their sleep.”
The crew would run for their lives, throw off all their gear, and grab their axes and fire shelters before sprinting to a cleared spot to open the tents. Mike made them do it until everyone was perfect.
Finally, it was time for the helicopter drills. This was what I’d been waiting for. I watched, enthralled, as the men climbed into the chopper and lifted off. It would hover as the crew dropped a line and then rappelled down one by one, their bright yellow jumpsuits glowing in the afternoon sun. They were something!
Mike walked over and sat beside me. “Seems easy. I don’t know why those guys get paid the big bucks,” he teased with his ever-ready grin.
“They’re awesome!” Even I could hear the starstruck tone in my voice.
“Want to go up?”
My head whipped around. “You mean in the helicopter?”
“Unless you know another way to fly. Come on, rookie. I’ll give you a crash course in helicopter etiquette, and you can go up with Vince. He’s our number-one pilot.”
I didn’t have to be asked twice. By the time the helicopter landed, I was in a hard hat and spare jumpsuit and ready to go.
The experience was one I’ll never forget. The rotor wash—the strong wind created and pushed downward by the copter’s rotor blades—lashed me as I stepped on the landing rail and climbed aboard. Inside, I sat in the seat behind the crew. This was not just a drill to them. Getting it right during practice was a matter of life or death, as much as it would be during a raging wildfire. I watched as they attached their harnesses to a kind of winch called a Sky Genie, which they used to rappel down from the chopper. I was shown how it all worked. Everyone made me feel, well, grown-up and not like a punk kid asking dumb questions.
Later, as we packed up, several of the team congratulated me on a great job. This was not something I was used to from adults and it made me feel good. This was the best day I could remember in forever.
Mike drove me back to the staff quarters, and when we pulled into the parking lot, I couldn’t believe what I saw.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A Different Kind of Hot
Rory sat on the wooden steps of the staff quarters. Beside his bike was my old Indian motorcycle, shining in the late afternoon sun. My excitement jumped into overdrive.
I was about to get out of the truck when Mike stopped me. “You did well today, Robin. You might think about going into this line of work. There are training classes available for bright young women like you.”
“Thanks, Mike.” It was something to think about in two long years, after I turned eighteen.
Rory stood as I climbed out of the truck and walked over.
“Hey, baby girl. I managed to get your bike back together and thought I’d surprise you.”
I walked around the battered machine, noting the new fender, mirrors, and signal lights. “You did way more than we talked about.”
“I wouldn’t want the cops all over you about a stupid signal light or no mirrors. Want to take a test drive?”
“Do I!” I hugged him and felt his arms go around me. “I’ll get my gear.”
My little bike performed perfectly. The new engine note told me Rory had done some tweaking there too. Instead of her usual strangled growl, the old girl purred like a kitten.
We took the Bow Valley Parkway, and the sweet spots in the corners were particularly gratifying. When Rory turned off onto a dirt trail, I was right behind him. Our bikes snorted and bumped, scratched and jumped along the track. We even had a few mud holes to navigate. My bike was no match for Rory’s monster machine, and he’d frequently have to wait while I caught up. This didn’t bother him in the least, and we had a blast.
We pulled over and sat by a stream to admire the sunset.
“What do you think? Am I an ace mechanic or what?” Rory asked teasingly.
“She runs great—factory smooth!” I gave him a sidelong glance. “The question is, how much is the bill?”
He quirked his lips. “We’ll figure something out. I did the work at my place, so there’s no shop time owed at the garage, and as for my effort, it’s negotiable.” He leaned in and kissed me on the neck.
An electric current ran down my spine. I was about to say something lame, like he should do it again, when Rory reached into his leather jacket, pulled out a joint, and lit up.
I’d been around stoners before and it wasn’t for me. They were so messed up, I didn’t want any part of them. But this was different; this was Rory. I didn’t move as he took in a lungful before offering it to me. I shook my head.
“No, thanks. I’m driving.” I joked, trying to make light of the refusal.
He laughed and took another hit. “You’re unbelievable. Smart and funny, all in one wickedly sexy package.”
Even though it was probably the marijuana talking, his words made me tingle anyway. “Yeah, smart, funny, and sexy. You’re one lucky guy.”
He held the end of the glowing cigarette to a clump of dry grass and it caught. “That’s the way you make me feel.” He contemplated the small blaze. “On fire.”
I rubbed the smoking grass with my boot, extinguishing it. “You’re pretty hot yourself.”
He leaned in and his lips were warm. I felt myself responding big time. He pushed me down onto the grass and I let him. The kisses became more passionate. Time drifted as my world collapsed to a small bubble in which only Rory and I existed.
A loud peal of thunder made both of us stop. Without our noticing,
the sky had grown heavy with ominous black clouds, and I could feel the wind starting to gust.
“We’d better head back. I haven’t got any rain gear.” I struggled to sit up, but Rory had other ideas.
“Come on, baby girl. It’s a summer squall. It’ll probably blow over in five minutes.”
I studied the sky. “No way. It’s a big one.” Ducking under his arm, I stood. “We’ll continue this another time. I promise.”
I hoped this made him feel better. I knew guys didn’t appreciate getting shut down. I also knew that riding at night, in a rainstorm, and with bald tires, was not fun. And Rory wasn’t exactly sober. If he were in a crash now, the cops would know he was on something. The price was too steep to trade for one make-out session.
Cursing, he got up and we drove back to Banff. At the staff quarters, he waited while I parked. “Thanks for fixing my bike.” I went over and kissed him, long and lingering.
“I’m impressed with how well you ride.” His tone was only a little pouty.
“And I’m impressed with how well you kiss,” I teased.
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” He ran his thumb along my bottom lip.
Reluctantly, I waved good-bye and walked into the lodge as the first fat raindrops hit.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Good Party
It poured all night and the wind did some serious damage. The next day the hot sun was back, drying everything out again. Work was hard, which made me doubly glad for Anne’s tutoring. Slowly, I caught on to the waitress biz and my tips increased.
As I cashed out Friday, Anne came over.
“Mike’s working late and I thought I’d take in the new photography exhibit at the Banff Centre. Want to come?”
The offer caught me off guard, and it must have shown on my face.
“If you aren’t busy,” she hastily added.
Fire Fight Page 3
