Page 26 of Until We Come Home

"State's already asking what I can give them for August," he says, flipping a page. "I told them one strike team, five wildland engines and a leader, and I’m the leader. Our rig’s one of the five. Rebecca’s the engine boss, James drives, you and Callum are her crew, and the other four come from 3, 4, and 9."

“Same crew as last year, then,” I say. “Works for me. Anything change while I was gone?”

“Shelters got reinspected in June, new Nomex came in last week, and the chief wants everybody’s line gear checked before Thursday.” He sits back. “Which brings me to the other thing. That benefit in September, the one for fire survivors. You heard about it?”

“A little,” I say. “Actually, Mia’s in town for the summer, and I think she’s working on it with Meridian. She’s mentioned it a couple times.”

Barnes raises an eyebrow, and the scowl actually leaves his face for a second. “Mia’s in town?”

I just nod, biting my tongue to keep from laughing at how fast he softened.

“Well, good,” he says, and the scowl is back. “Then you already know half of it. Meridian and a couple of the other arts outfits downtown are putting on a big thing, dance, music, the whole deal, with the money going to burn survivors, families who’ve lost their homes, and the animal rescues that take in pets after the wildfires.”

“Sounds great,” I say.

“I’m glad you think so,” Barnes says, leaning forward on his elbows. “Because they want first responders in the room, and they asked for a station to partner with, so the chief volunteered us. The engine out front for photos, the crew there on the night of, and they want a few firefighters to pose for the calendar they sell at the benefit. I gave them your name.”

“You did what?” I ask, sitting straight up in my chair.

“It’s for a good cause. You’ll attend the benefit, and pose for the calendar.” He smiles, which is never a good sign with Barnes. “Unless you don’t care to help victims of forest fires and lost pets. Do you not care?”

He leans back, knowing he has me.

I’ve walked into burning buildings with less dread than I feel about a calendar. “Uh... no, I do want to help, obviously.”

“That’s what I thought. Cheer up, you said Mia was likely working on it. Hell, invite her to the calendar shoot for all I care. Might even keep Callum and James from clowning around the whole time,” he adds.

“She’d love that,” I say, already picturing her face when she hears the word calendar. “But she'd never let me hear the end of it.”

“Good. Somebody besides me should give you a hard time.” He closes the folder and sets it back on the stack. “Alright. Thursday for the test, line gear before then, the benefit, and the kid. And try not to get yourself killed this season, would you?”

“I’ll give it my best shot,” I say.

“Good,” he says, picking his coffee back up. “Welcome back to Station 7, Mateo.”

CHAPTER 5

Mia

"Okay, but who is that?"

Tasha snatches my phone right out of my hand before I can lock it, and I nearly drop my iced latte on the sidewalk trying to grab it back.

We're walking out of a commercial class in North Hollywood, both of us still sweaty and red-faced, our dance bags slung over our shoulders and our hair plastered to our necks. It's barely ten in the morning and already pushing ninety degrees, the kind of dry LA heat that bounces up off the pavement and makes you feel like a rotisserie chicken.

After a few days of mist and gray skies and screaming foxes, I should be happy to have my sunshine back. But mostly I'm looking forward to a Seattle summer, warm but, apart from the occasional heat wave, not the kind of hot that makes you want to lie down on the floor.

"Give that phone back, you muppet," I say, holding out my hand.

"Absolutely not. You were smiling at your phone like a psychopath. I need to know why." Tasha holds it above her head, which is useless, since I'm five inches taller than her. She squints at the screen. "That man is gorgeous."

It's a picture Lark took at the bonfire. She just texted me a whole batch of party photos. This one is Mateo and me on the driftwood log, both of us laughing at something Jack said, my head tipped back and Mateo looking over at me with that crooked half smile he gets when he thinks I'm being ridiculous. The firelight is doing a lot for both of us, I'll give it that.

"That's Mateo," I say, finally plucking the phone out of her hand. "You've heard me talk about him. He's one of my closest friends."

"You've mentioned a Mateo. You did not mention that Mateo looks like that." She fans herself with her hand as we cut across the parking lot toward my car. "Those forearms alone. Is he a model?"

"He's a firefighter," I say, sliding my sunglasses on.