Chasing Fire

temper only built on the walk back, then took a bitter spike when she heard the siren blast. She broke into a run, covering the remaining distance to the base where she could already see jumpers on the scramble and the jump plane taxiing onto the runway.
    She hit the ready room, shoving aside the bitterness as she had the stress—as something to be taken out and examined later.
    She grabbed gear off the speed rack for Cards. “Payette?”
    “That’s the one.” He zipped his let-down rope into the proper pocket. “Zulies to the rescue!”
    She looked in his eyes. “Have a good one.”
    “It’s in the cards.” He let out a chortle before waddling toward the waiting plane.
    She went through the same procedure with Trigger while Gull helped Dobie.
    In minutes she stood watching the plane take off without her.
    “Secondary blaze blew up,” Gull told her. “Idaho’s already spread thin. One of their second load got hung up on the jump, broke his arm, and they’ve got two more injuries on the ground.”
    “Aren’t you well informed?”
    “I like to keep up with current events.” He re-angled his ball cap to gain more shade from the bill as he followed the plane into the sky. “Such as the dry lightning doing a smackdown up in Flathead. You didn’t spend much time at your dad’s.”
    “Are you keeping track of me?”
    “Just using my keen powers of observation. They also tell me you’re severely pissed.”
    “I don’t like being grounded when I’m fit to jump.”
    “You’re on the list,” he reminded her. “And?”
    “And, what?”
    “And what else has you severely pissed?”
    “You and your keen powers of observation are about to, so aim them elsewhere.” She started to stalk off, then, too riled to hold it in, stalked back. “I go up to see my father, spend some time with him, talk this crap over with him because that’s what we do. When I get there he’s doing an AFF with a student. A student who happens to be a woman. A redhead. One who, the minute they’re on the ground, jumps him like my old dog Butch used to jump a Frisbee. Then he’s swinging her around, and then he’s kissing her. Kissing her, right there, a serious lip-locking, body-twining kiss no doubt involving tongues.”
    “The best do. So . . . I’m working my way through that report, trying to pinpoint what pissed you off.”
    “Did I just tell you my father kissed that redhead?”
    “You did, but I’m having a tough time seeing why that flipped your switch. You’re acting like you’ve never seen your old man kiss a woman before.”
    When she said nothing, only stood with her eyes like smoldering blue ice, he let out a half laugh of genuine surprise. “Seriously? You’ve seriously never seen him kiss a woman? The man has to have superhuman discretion.”
    Gull stopped again, shook his head and gave her a light slap on the shoulder. “Come on, Ro. You’re not going to tell me you think he actually hasn’t bumped lips with a female in—how old are you, exactly?”
    “He doesn’t date.”
    “So you said when he had the date with the lady client for drinks . . . Aha. Now my intrepid deductive skills mesh with my keen powers of observation to conclude this would be the same woman.”
    “She says she’s a high-school principal. It’s pretty damn clear they’re sleeping together.”
    “I guess getting called into the principal’s office has taken on a whole new meaning for your dad.”
    “Fuck you.”
    “Whoa.” He caught her arm as she spun around. “You’re jealous? You’re actually jealous because your father’s interested in a woman—who’s not you?”
    Heat—temper, embarrassment—slapped into her cheeks. “That’s disgusting and untrue.”
    “You’re pissed and jealous, and genuinely hurt because your father may be in a romantic relationship with a woman. That’s not disgusting or untrue, Rowan, but it sure strikes me as petty and selfish.”
    Something very akin to the disappointment she’d just seen on her father’s face moved over Gull’s. “When’s the last time he threw a tantrum because you were involved with someone?”
    Now she felt petty, and that only fueled her temper. “My feelings and my relationship with my father are none of your business. You don’t know a damn thing about it, or me. And you know what, I’m pretty goddamn sick of being dumped on, from Dolly and vindictive bullshit, to tight-assed special agents, my father’s disappointment to your crappy