“Sorry to have spooked you.”
“You don’t sound it.”
The shadow shrugged.
“No, I left on my own. He was sleeping.”
It earned her a Williams family trademark grunt.
“I thought you weren’t talking to me.”
Again the shrug. “You’ve got him pretty screwed up. Figured I’d ask why. You having fun doing that to my brother?”
“No!” It burst out of her without thought or pretense. “I am?” She hated how that felt.
There was an odd sound that Stacy couldn’t figure out at first. Like someone tapping their fingers together…if they were made of steel and rubber.
“I don’t intend to be. But I can’t marry him.”
“Marriage?” Now it was Jana’s turn for an outburst. “My idiot brother proposed to you?”
“Sort of… Not really. But maybe…”
“When?”
“The day of the fire in Prineville, after we did the swimming pool trick.”
“I reviewed the footage on that. That was some ace work. Really first-skill flight.”
“Thanks. I guess.”
“Do you mind?” Then without waiting for an answer, Jana lowered the tailgate and sat down on it.
Not wanting to talk to Jana’s back, Stacy scooted forward until they were sitting side by side, dangling their feet off the end as if neither of them was willing to jump into the swimming hole.
Jana was the first to break the silence. “Why did you want to know what it was like to lose my hand?”
“I didn’t. Don’t. It must have been awful.”
“My asshole brother says you did.”
“No, I…” Stacy had the nasty feeling that she was finished with this outfit. For a brief moment in time, she’d thought she’d found somewhere to be. Flying to fire, in a helicopter with her very own name on it, an amazing lover, but… “I wanted to know what it was like for him to almost lose his sister. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Why did you?”
Stacy tried to think about how to not answer that question, but wasn’t having much luck. Jana was in her scary-interviewer mode and it was definitely working.
“This truck belonged to my brother. He was all that saved me from my life. From my past.”
“But you have it now.”
“But I have it now. He flew for the Night Stalkers.”
That earned her a low whistle of respect. “Where is he now?”
“In an urn of ash buried beneath a cross at Arlington Cemetery. Better than Otis, I suppose.”
Jana’s silence let Stacy slowly tell the rest of the story about home, and flying, even her foolish dreams of flying with her brother in the Army someday.
“I couldn’t face the Army after he died. So, I flew to fire instead. Swore I’d never marry a pilot. Curt slipped past my guard. I wasn’t even aware of it until he made that joke about marriage. Then I knew that I had no choice. I love flying with the Firebirds and my brother taught me to fly an MD 500, so the 520 is like coming home. But I can’t marry a pilot.”
Jana was silent for so long that Stacy was starting to wonder if she’d ever speak to her again. There was enough time for most of Orion’s belt to move from one side of a treetop to another.
“Jana?”
“I’m just trying to decide which of the three of us is stupidest here.”
“Stupid?”
“Maybe thoughtless is a better word.”
“I’m not a big fan of either one.”
“Doesn’t surprise me, Stacy. That’s one of the things I liked about you in that first interview. Smart woman who was on her toes. The thing is, I think we’ve all screwed up in this case.”
“Might as well tell me, because I can’t feel any worse at the moment.”
“Me first.” Jana tapped her hooks on the tailgate loudly enough to startle Stacy. “Because I thought you were being typically ghoulish about my amputation, I dumped you into my not-worth-wasting-my-time-with pile. The fact that you started screwing my brother the next night just confirmed that you were a first-class bitch.”
“Usually I’m called a pain in the ass. And I started screwing him, because he’s the nicest and best man I’ve ever met.”
“Was that opinion before or after he took you to bed? No, don’t answer. If you were in the running, you’d never make more than second-class bitch in this outfit, because I’m gonna win that first prize any day of the week.”
Stacy found herself smiling at Jana’s dry tone. It felt more like that night they’d sung songs together on the way to the Cave Junction pizza joint.
“My brother—who I love dearly, don’t get me wrong—is about as deep as a mud puddle. He’s a good guy, but if you’re going to marry him, just accept that if you want him to know something, you’re gonna have to tell him. Directly, in simple words. He’ll never think to ask.”
“But I’m not—”
“Number Three of this screwed up trio is you. Why the hell wouldn’t you want to marry a heli-pilot? Nobody else is ever going to meet our standards. We’re heli-women of the Firebirds. There’s nothing better than us and we deserve the same.”
Stacy didn’t know what to say to that. Had she somehow had it backwards all this time? Her brother had been a helicopter pilot, and he was the best man she’d ever known.
And Curt? After such a short time together, Curt was already at a tie with Bill in her heart. What would he be with more time? Would he be even more than she thought he was? Even better than he already…
She ran out of steam. Sitting here on the back of her brother’s old truck—less than a hundred feet from the bed she’d left Curt in—and she missed him like he was a thousand miles away. Curt Williams wasn’t a part of her thoughts, he was a part of her very breath.
“Hey.”
Stacy startled. Curt was standing only a few steps in front of her. She turned, but Jana was gone and Stacy didn’t know for how long. Long enough for Orion to move fully clear of the treetop and for Canis Major, his loyal dog, to start the transition.
“Hey yourself.” Brilliant response, Stacy.
“I woke up and I missed you.”
“You found me.” She hoped that it was a good sign that he even wanted to.
“Let me guess. You’re sitting here in the middle of the night, thinking about how to tell me you’re going to finally upgrade this old thing for a nice new Chevy Camaro ZL1.”
Jana was right. Curt Williams was a very straight-ahead guy, but he was also such a good one. To offer a tease despite everything else that had happened between them these last days. She couldn’t imagine finding anyone better. Ever.
“If I ever do, I’m having it painted Oregon Duck green and yellow.”
“You wouldn’t!” he sounded aghast.
Then, in a very different tone. One full of the night and just the two of them, he asked softly.
“You okay?”
She reached out and found his hand, then tugged him toward her. Stacy pulled him in until she lay her ear on his heart and wrapped her arms around his waist.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he wrapped his arms around her in answer.
Yes, she was okay. With Curt to ground her and keep her sane, she could finally be okay.
But for him? Then she smiled and turned her nose into his sternum. He’d already made his choice. Next time he gave voice to it, she wouldn’t be stupid or thoughtless. Neither would she hesitate. Though there wasn’t a chance he was going to make her trade in her pickup on a muscle car.
Other than that, for as long as they were together, they’d most certainly be flying.
Fire Light, Fire Bright (excerpt)
If you liked this, you’ll love the Hotshot short stories!
Fire Light, Fire Bright
(excerpt)
“Hi, I’m Candace Cantrell. First Rule: anyone who calls me Candy, who isn’t my dad,” she hooked a thumb at Fire Chief Carl Cantrell standing at-ease beside her, “is
gonna get my boot up their ass. We clear on that?”
A rolling mumble of “Yes, ma’am.” “Clear.” and “Got it, Candace.” rippled back to her from the recruits. Some answered almost as softly as the breeze working its way up through the tall pines. Others trumpeting it out as if to get her notice. A few offered simple nods.
She surveyed the line of recruits slowly. Way too early to make any judgments, but it was tempting. Day One, Minute One, and she could already guess five of the forty applicants weren’t going to make it into the twenty slots she had open.
The one thing they all, including her dad, needed to see right up front was their team leader’s complete confidence. Candace had been fighting wildfires for the U.S. Forest Service hotshot teams for a decade. She’d worked her way up to foreman twice, and had been gunning for a shot at superintendent of a whole twenty-person crew when her dad had called.
“We’re got permission to form up an IHC in the heart of the Okanagan-Wenatchee National Forest,” he never was long on greetings over the phone.
Her mouth had watered. A brand new Interagency Hotshot Crew didn’t happen all that often.
“I talked to the other captains and we want you to form it up.”
Now her throat had gone dry and she had to fight to not let it squeak.
“Me?”
“You aren’t gonna let me down now, Candy Girl?”
“You shittin’ me?” Not a chance.
Then he’d hit her with that big belly laugh of his.
“Knew you’d like the idea.”
And simple as that, she’d been out of the San Juan IHC at the end of the Colorado fire season and back home in the Cascade Mountains of Washington State. She’d grown up in the resort town of Leavenworth—two thousand people and a ka-jillion tourists. The city fathers had transformed the failing timber town into a Bavarian wonderland back in the sixties. But that didn’t stop the millions of acres of the National Forest and the rugged sagebrush-steppe ecosystem further east in central Washington from torching off every summer.
The very first thing she’d done, before she’d even left the San Juan IHC, was to call in a pair of ringers as her two foremen. Jess was short, feisty, and could walk up forested mountains all day with heavy gear without slowing down a bit. Patsy was tall, quiet, and tough. Candace had them stand in with the candidates for the first days because she wanted their eyes out there as well.
“Second, see that road?” she asked the recruits and pointed to the foot of National Forest Road 6500. She’d had their first meet-up be here rather than at the fire hall in town. A gaggle of vehicles were pulled off the dirt of Little Wenatchee River Road. Beater pickups dominated, but there were a couple of hammered Civics, a pair of muscle cars, and a gorgeous Harley Davidson that she considered stealing it was so sweet.
The recruits all looked over their shoulders at the one lane of dirt.
“We’re going for a stroll up that road. We leave in sixty seconds.”
Like a herd of sheep, they all swung their heads to look at her.
“Fifty-five seconds, and this ain’t gonna be a Sunday-type of a stroll.”
You could tell the number of seasons they’d fought fire just by their reactions.
Five or more? They already wore their boots. Daypacks with water and energy bars were kept on their shoulders during her intro. And despite it being Day One of the ten-day shakedown, all had some tools: fold-up shovel and a heavy knife strapped to their leg at a minimum. Only she, Jess, and Patsy had Pulaski wildland fire axes tied to their gear, but all the veterans knew the drill.
Three to four seasons? Groans and eyerolls. Packs were on the ground beside them. No tools, but they knew what was coming now that she’d told them—ten kilometers, at least, and not one meter of it flat.
One to two seasons? Had the right boots on, but no packs. They were racing back to their vehicles to see what equipment they could assemble.
Rookies? Tennis shoes, ball caps, no gear, blank stares.
“Forty-five seconds, rooks. Boots and water. If you’re not on the trail in fifty seconds, you’re off the crew.” That got their asses moving.
There was one man on the whole crew she couldn’t pigeonhole, the big guy who’d climbed off the Harley. His pack and the fold-up shovel strapped to it were so new they sparkled. But his boots and the massive hunting knife on his thigh both showed very heavy use.
A glance at her Dad’s assessing gaze confirmed it. Something was odd about the Harley man and his easy grin. Not rugged handsome, but still very nice to look at. Powerful shoulders, slim waist. Not an athlete’s build, but rather someone who really used his body. His worn jeans revealed that he already had the powerful legs that every hotshot would develop from endless miles of chasing fire over these mountains and steppes for the next six months. It was like he was a Hollywood movie: some parts of him were so very right, but a lot of the details were dead wrong.
***
Luke Rawlings looked at the team superintendent. Couldn’t help himself, ‘cause damn she was a treat to look at. Her white-blond hair was short and sassy, her body was seriously fit, but curved like a sweet-Candy dream girl. Her no-nonsense attitude just cracked him up; he could hear that natural state of command that you only learned the hard way, by doing it. Not something he’d ever expected to find in a hot civilian babe.
When he’d mustered out, SEAL Lieutenant Commander Altman had suggested he try firefighting. Altman was a smart dude, so Luke had followed his suggestion. He’d kicked around with a big city fire department doing ride-alongs for a while. Chicago Fire were all super guys and they kept trying to sign him aboard, but tramping pavement and cement, doing fire inspections for date tags on commercial fire extinguishers…he’d rather be back in the African jungle. If his nerves would let him, which he so wasn’t going to think about now.
He still wasn’t sure how he’d heard about the hotshot crews, but walking into a wildfire—he just liked the way it sounded.
And looking at “Not Candy” Cantrell, he was damn glad he’d followed his whim and ridden his Harley west.
Available at fine retailers everywhere!
Fire Light, Fire Bright
About the Author
M.L. Buchman started the first of, what is now over 50 novels and as many short stories, while flying from South Korea to ride his bicycle across the Australian Outback. Part of a solo around the world trip that ultimately launched his writing career.
All three of his military romantic suspense series—The Night Stalkers, Firehawks, and Delta Force—have had a title named “Top 10 Romance of the Year” by the American Library Association’s Booklist. NPR and Barnes & Noble have named other titles “Top 5 Romance of the Year.” In 2016 he was a finalist for Romance Writers of America prestigious RITA award. He also writes: contemporary romance, thrillers, and fantasy.
Past lives include: years as a project manager, rebuilding and single-handing a fifty-foot sailboat, both flying and jumping out of airplanes, and he has designed and built two houses. He is now making his living as a full-time writer on the Oregon Coast with his beloved wife and is constantly amazed at what you can do with a degree in Geophysics. You may keep up with his writing and receive a free starter e-library by subscribing to his newsletter at: www.mlbuchman.com
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Also by M. L. Buchman
* also sweet version / + also audio
The Night Stalkers
Main Flight
The Night Is Mine
I Own the Dawn
Wait Until Dark
Take Over at Midnight
Light Up the Night
Bring On the Dusk
By Break of Day
White House Holiday
Daniel’s Christmas+
Frank’s Independence Day+
Peter’s Christmas+
Zachary’s Christmas
Roy’s Independence Day
Damien’s Christmas
>
and the Navy
Christmas at Steel Beach
Christmas at Peleliu Cove
5E
Target of the Heart
Target Lock on Love
Target of Mine
Firehawks
Main Flight
Pure Heat
Full Blaze
Hot Point+
Flash of Fire+
Wild Fire
Smokejumpers
Wildfire at Dawn
Wildfire at Larch Creek
Wildfire on the Skagit
Delta Force
Main Flight
Target Engaged+
Heart Strike+
Wild Justice+
Henderson’s Ranch
Nathan’s Big Sky*
Love Abroad B&B
Heart of the Cotswolds: England*
Where Dreams
Where Dreams are Born*
Where Dreams Reside*
Where Dreams Are of Christmas*
Where Dreams Unfold*
Where Dreams Are Written*
Eagle Cove
Return to Eagle Cove*
Recipe for Eagle Cove*
Longing for Eagle Cove*
Keepsake for Eagle Cove*
Deities Anonymous
Cookbook from Hell: Reheated
Saviors 101
Dead Chef
Swap Out!
One Chef!
Two Chef!
SF/F Titles
The Nara Reaction
Monk’s Maze
The Me and Elsie Chronicles
Strategies for Success
Managing Your Inner Artist / Writer
Estate Planning for Authors+
* * *
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Copyright 2018 Matthew Lieber Buchman
They'd Most Certainly Be Flying Page 4
