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PROLOGUE
MESA
Hot shot crews had come in to handle the worst of the blaze when it jumped the service road and ripped up Placer Canyon.
It took two months for Forestry to declare the incident one hundred percent contained. The specialty crews were sent home, and me and my local crew were left to handle the clean-up and any small patches that might reignite due to winds and the smoldering remains of what had been dense pine forest just weeks before the lightning strike.
It's probably the smell of forest fire lingering in the mountain air, even though it's been almost a year now. Or maybe it's catching a glimpse of the closed forestry service gates across the Benson Peak turn off-- the road we where we were clearing burned brush and cutting the downed trees that could be taken care of.
My hand tightens on Robin's and I clench my jaw, fighting the memories. The ones I have, at least.
She was a rookie assigned to my crew for the summer season; she came up from Slow River to get some experience in the mountain terrain around Moonshine Ridge after doing a few years on a volunteer crew in the valley.
The moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she was mine.
Fuck the work dynamic. She was on loan from another station and she'd be out from under my command by September-- but not out from under me, if I had my way about it.
We'd spent the summer dancing around each other, grateful for the fire that kept us too busy and then too exhausted to act on the attraction. Otherwise, I'm sure things would have gotten out of hand long before she was due to leave my crew.
It was our last night; a new crew would be up to take over where we left off first thing in the morning.
Most of us were starting to relax, chugging bottled water, and cutting up while they made plans to invade the Brick and Porter in town to clean Ginger and Current out of pizza and beer as soon as we finishing slicing up one more of the trees that had come down over the back country access road.
I'd been busy staring at her ass when the wind kicked up: it was finally over, we were off the job and we'd waited long enough. I remember I was thinking that in twenty-four hours, she'd be mine.
In my mind, I hear the creak of the scorched trees moving in the wind all around us. My heart rate kicks up as if it were happening again right now. I remember the calm concern I felt then as I looked up for signs of danger. Years of experience assisting the forestry on these wildland blazes keeping my nerves in check.
Then the panic. That sick feeling when the sound of heavy wood giving way somewhere overhead split the air and everyone went silent.
I still see it in my nightmares; the heavy limb hanging suspended from the blackened trunk for a moment, as if it was giving everyone time to clear the area.
But Robin didn't have the experience the rest of us did, she didn't realize the branch that was about to come down was directly overhead.
The rest is just a blur for me. I remember pushing her out of the way, I remember her screaming, I remember the sounds of my crew members shouting orders around me, but mostly, I remember the intense sense of relief when I realized she was all right.
Everything else is blank.
"You okay?" She asks and I realize I'm probably in danger of crushing her fingers.
"Yeah," I mutter, leaning across the back seat of my parent's car to drop a chaste kiss on the pretty lips I haven't seen smiling nearly often enough this last year. "Fine. I'm fine."
My angel smiles at me, just a weary little quirk of those full lips of hers, letting me know she knows better. But she squeezes my hand back and lets me disappear into my thoughts again.
We both knew coming home was going to be an adjustment.
1
ROBIN
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
We were supposed to spend our first weekend off the Placer Fire in his cabin, drinking too much whiskey, eating too much red meat, and chasing each other naked.
I'd had a lot of expectations pinned on those plans.
From the moment I saw the captain of the fire crew I was assigned to for the summer wildland season last year, I'd been nothing but a horny school girl crushing on her boss. But who could blame me?
Mesa Diaz is six foot, four inches of bronze skin; corded muscle; wild, black curls cropped close to his head; and intense, dark eyes under a furrowed brow that had a way of making me feel like I was the one they needed to turn the hose on every time I caught him looking at me.
