Chasing Fire

over drinks all the damn time. No reason he couldn’t do the same with her. “I don’t have any plans.”
    “Then we’re set? Thanks so much.” She shot out a hand, shook his briskly. “I’ll see you at seven.”
    He watched her walk away, so pretty, so breezy—and reminded himself it was just friendly business.

9
     
    A s she had done in her tent, Rowan lay with her eyes closed and took morning inventory. She decided she felt like a hundred-year-old woman who’d been on a starvation diet. But she’d come out of it—as fire boss—uninjured, her crew intact, and the fire down.
    Added to it, she thought as she opened her eyes, tracked her gaze around her quarters, during her two days out the pig-blood fairies had not only mopped and scrubbed but rolled a fresh coat of paint on her walls.
    She owed somebody, and if she could drag herself out of bed she’d find out who.
    When she did, her calves twinged, her quads protested. The bis and tris, she noted, shed bitter tears. The hot shower she’d all but slept through had helped, a little, but the eight hours in the rack after two arduous days required more.
    Fuel and movement, she ordered herself. And where was Gull with his breakfast sandwich when she needed one? She settled for a chocolate bar while she dressed, then hobbled off to the gym.
    She wasn’t the only one hobbling.
    She grunted at Gibbons, who grunted back, watched Trigger wince through some floor stretches. She studied Dobie—wiry little guy—as he bench-pressed what she judged to be his body weight.
    “I’m back on the jump list tomorrow,” he told her as he pumped up with an explosion of breath. “I’m ready. Hell of a lot readier than you guys, from the looks of it.”
    She shot him the finger, then moaned into a forward bend. She stayed down, just stayed down and breathed for as long as she could stand it, then with her palms on the floor, arched her back and looked up.
    The yellow bruising on Dobie’s red-with-effort face made him look like a jaundiced burn victim. And he’d shaved off his scraggly excuse for a beard—an improvement, to her mind, since he looked less like a hillbilly leprechaun.
    “Somebody cleaned up and painted my room.”
    “Yeah.” With another explosion of breath, he pushed the weights up, then clicked them in the safety. “Stovic and me, we had time on our hands.”
    She brought herself back to standing. “You guys did all that?”
    “Mostly. Marg and Lynn did what they could with your clothes. Salt’s what gets blood out; that’s what my ma uses.”
    “Is that so?”
    “Doesn’t work so well on walls, so we got them painted up. It kept us from going stir-crazy while the rest of you were having all the fun. Hell of a mess in there, and smelled like a hog butchering. Made me homesick,” he added with a grin. “Anyhow, that broad must be crazy as a run-over lizard.”
    She walked over, bent down, kissed him on the mouth. “Thanks.”
    He wiggled his eyebrows. “It was a big, stinkin’ hell of a mess.”
    This time she drilled her finger into his belly. After walking back to her mat, she stretched out her muscles, soothed her mind with yoga. She’d moved to floor work when Gull came in. Fresh, she thought. He looked fresh and clean, with his gait loose and easy as he crossed to her.
    “I heard you’d surfaced.” He crouched down. “You’re looking pretty limber for the morning after.”
    “Just need some fine-tuning.”
    “And a picnic.”
    She lifted her nose from her knee. “I need a picnic?”
    “With a big-ass hamper loaded with cuisine by Marg and a fine bottle of adult beverage enjoyed in the company of a charming companion.”
    “Janis is going with me on a picnic?”
    “I’ve got the big-ass hamper.”
    “There’s always a catch.” Danger zone, she warned herself. The man was a walking temptation. “It’s a nice thought, but—”
    “We’re not on the jump list, and L.B. cleared us for the day. Now that we’ve been through fire together, I think we can take a short break, have some food and conversation. Unless you’re afraid a little picnic will drive you into uncontrollable lust until you force yourself on me and take advantage of my friendly offer.”
    Temptation and challenge—both equally hard to resist. “I’m reasonably sure I can control myself.”
    “Okay then. We can leave whenever you’re ready.”
    What the hell, she decided. She lived and breathed danger zones. She could certainly handle one