I keep my eyes on the road, my grip on the steering wheel tightening. “It’s not just about cutting trees, city girl. It’s about creating firebreaks. Controlled burns protect the forest. Without them, this entire mountain would be a tinderbox waiting for a spark.”
“You mean you set it on fire to save it? That sounds like something straight out of a bad action movie.”
I bite back a growl, my patience wearing thin. “You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. These burns clear out dead vegetation and let the forest regenerate. It’s science, not Hollywood.”
“Oh, don’t give me that ‘science’ line,” she snaps, turning to face me. “I’ve done my research. There are better ways to manage forests than lighting them up like Fourth of July fireworks.”
Her confidence grates on me, but damn if I don’t admire her for it. Most people shrink under my gruffness, but Juniper? She meets me head-on, fiery and unyielding.
“You ever been on the front lines of a wildfire?” I shoot back, glancing at her. Her cheeks are flushed, her jaw set, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “You ever watched flames tear through everything in their path? I have. And this,” I nod toward the road ahead, “is how we stop that from happening.”
She doesn’t answer, but the tension in the cab thickens. Silence stretches between us, charged and crackling, until she lets out a frustrated sigh and mutters, “You’re impossible.”
I smirk, unable to help myself. “And you’re stubborn.”
“Only because you’re wrong,” she retorts, crossing her arms tighter.
We’re almost to the site when she turns the full force of her glare on me again. “You know, for someone who supposedly loves the forest, you sure don’t seem to mind tearing parts of it down.”
That does it. I slam the truck into park as soon as we pull up, the tires kicking up dust. “You don’t get it, do you?” I growl, shoving the door open. “You’re so damn caught up in your documentary and your idealistic nonsense that you don’t see the bigger picture.”
I don’t wait for her to respond. I’m out of the truck and stomping into the woods before I can say something I’ll regret.
The burn site is quiet except for the rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird. My boots crunch against the ground as I pace, trying to shake off the frustration coiled tight in my chest.
Juniper Hayes. The name alone is enough to set my teeth on edge now.
I hear her footsteps behind me—lighter than mine but purposeful. She’s not one to let things go, apparently.
“You know,” she calls out, her voice cutting through the air, “storming off doesn’t exactly scream ‘mature wilderness firefighter.’”
I turn to face her, hands on my hips. She’s standing a few feet away, her fiery hair catching the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. “And following me doesn’t exactly scream ‘professional documentarian.’”
She takes a step closer, her chin tilted defiantly. “You don’t get to shut down the conversation just because it makes you uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable?” I bark out a laugh, though there’s no humor in it. “I’ve faced wildfires bigger than you can imagine. You thinkthismakes me uncomfortable?”
She raises an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smirk that’s equal parts challenge and invitation. “You seem pretty rattled to me.”
I take a step closer, closing the distance between us. “You’ve got no idea what rattled looks like, sweetheart.”
Her breath hitches, just barely, but I catch it. She’s trying so hard to hold her ground, but I can see the way her resolve wavers under the weight of whatever’s sparking between us.
The air between us feels charged, like the moment before a lightning strike. She opens her mouth to say something, but I hold up a hand.
“Save it, Juniper. You can argue with me all you want, but out here? I know what I’m doing.”
She narrows her eyes, but instead of snapping back, she takes a deep breath. “Then show me.”
“If you can manage to keep your opinions to yourself, I will.”
Later that evening, I find myself at The Devil’s Brew, a cold beer in hand and the weight of the day still hanging heavy on my shoulders.
Hudson and the others are already at our usual table, their laughter carrying over the din of the bar. Zane spots me first, grinning like the cat who caught the canary.
“Well, look who finally decided to join us,” he says, clapping me on the back as I sit down. “How’s that pretty city girl?”
I glare at him, though there’s no real heat behind it. “She’s Barron’s cousin. Watch it.”
