Page 71 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

26

JANNA

The room buzzed with low murmurs and the occasional scrape of chairs as everyone settled in. I sat near the back, my fingers drumming lightly on the edge of the table. The scent of bitter coffee filled the room. Everyone was either dressed in flight suits or the standard fire-resistant pants and shirts with the Reddington logo.

The energy felt different. The usual joking and nonsense conversations that often took place when we were all gathered around in the kitchen in the mornings was absent. Everyone was serious and focused. It wasn’t my usual go-to, but since I was the newbie, I decided I better be just as serious.

I had opted to go with water instead of coffee. The last thing I needed was caffeine. A few of the older, more seasoned crew were downing coffee like it was water. Dalton was sipping a Gatorade. It was hard not to look at him. He wasn’t sitting. I could see the tension in his shoulders. Gone was the playful man that had made me pancakes and then fucked me on his kitchen island.

His stance confirmed what I suspected—it was serious. My gaze went around the room. Pickle was the only one that looked moderately chill. He was leaning back in his chair, his coffee on the table in front of him. His arms were crossed over his chest.

Wild Bill was at another one of the small tables with Gilbert and Tyson. Cheryl was sitting beside me. Chief stood at the front. There were several maps pinned to the wall that was all corkboards. The maps covered areas in southwest Colorado. The San Juan Mountains, Mesa Verde and Canyons of the Ancients and a portion of Northwest Utah are all mapped out. In my research, I knew we would typically stay within about a hundred and fifty miles of base. If things get wild in California or Arizona, we might get called in for mutual aid.

“Alright, listen up,” Chief barked, tapping a spot on the map with one of his fingers. “We’ve got three new starts from last night’s lightning show. One’s up near Black Ridge, another in the canyon west of here, and the third’s just south of Pine Hollow. We’re gonna hit ‘em hard and fast before they get any ideas about spreading.”

I leaned forward, my eyes scanning the maps. Black Ridge was rugged terrain, tricky to navigate but manageable if you knew what you were doing. The canyon? That one made my stomach twist. Tight spaces, unpredictable winds, and if things went sideways, there wasn’t much room to maneuver. Pine Hollow was the easiest of the three, but “easy” was relative when you were dealing with fire.

It got my juices flowing. And I immediately felt guilty about it. I should not be excited about fire, but I was anxious to get in the air and actually do something.

Chief started assigning crews. I waited, my heart thumping in my chest like it was trying to escape. When he finally called my name, I straightened up so fast I nearly knocked over my water.

“Janna,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine. “You’re on Air Attack for Black Ridge. You’ll be spotting for Dalton and his crew.”

Dalton. Of course it had to be Dalton. I could feel his gaze on me from across the room, but I didn’t look over. Instead, I nodded at Chief, trying to keep my face neutral even though my insides were doing somersaults.

“Got it,” I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me.

Chief gave me a quick nod before moving on to the next assignment. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake that itchy feeling in my chest. Excitement? Fear? Anticipation? It was all of it rolled into one big ball of emotion that made it hard to sit still.

Fire season had officially started. I was ready—or at least I hoped I was.

Thirty minutes later, it felt like I had been plunged into a busy beehive. Everyone knew exactly what to do. I was sticking to Cheryl like we were attached with Velcro.

“Let’s do this,” she said. “Feeling good?”

I nodded. “Yep.”

“Alright, my life is in your hands, and I really like my life, so don’t kill me.”

I appreciated her levity in what felt like a very serious moment. We climbed into the plane that had been pushed out of the hangar. It was the first time I had been in the cockpit in almost a week. I had been suffering actual withdrawals. I was only a little disappointed I didn’t get to fly with Dalton sitting behind me. But he was going to be in his plane.

Cheryl talked to control and then directed me where to go, even though I could hear the directions. It was part of the process. I wasn’t going to pull any of the shit I had with Dalton. He made me want to rebel and fight back. But I understood these procedures were in place for a reason.

At the target area, smoke filled the air, thick and blinding. I found myself sitting up a little straighter, my hands gripping a little tighter.

Laser sat behind me in the spotter seat. Fear and excitement pulsed together inside me. I forced myself to slow my breathing. I knew the first fire would be a big deal. It would be one I never forgot.

“Hold us steady at this altitude,” Laser said, voice calm over the whine of the engine. “I need a clear view of the ridge below.”

I angled us into a gentle turn, trying to keep steady above the blaze but giving her the best vantage point I could. The air was thick with turbulence. The plane shuddered as if it were a leaf in an angry windstorm.

I knew it wasn’t possible, but I swore I could taste and smell the smoke. It was in my head. We weren’t close enough and the plane was sealed. Dalton had explained that low-altitude flyovers could lead to smoke infiltration. He warned me about staying calm and getting to clean air before the smoke could do any damage or make me dizzy.

I focused on the instruments. Altitude. Airspeed. Vertical speed. Ridge proximity. Wind. I listened to Cheryl reporting the details of the fire. My job was to give her the best view possible. She needed every detail. Details mattered. Details saved lives.

“Visibility’s dropping,” I reported. “I’m losing sight of the far ridge.”

“I’ve got movement. Looks like flames jumping the ridge to the east. Can you get me a closer angle?”