Page 22 of Hot for the Mountain Man

As dusk approached, the fire's advance finally slowed, then stopped at our reinforced containment lines. Hotspots remained, and crews would monitor throughout the night, but the immediate danger to the residential areas had passed.

"Stand down, primary teams," Dawson ordered around midnight. "Secondary crews will take over monitoring. Debrief at the station, then home for rest."

At the station, we shed our filthy gear, exhaustion evident in every movement. The debrief was mercifully brief—assessment of damage (minimal to structures, significant to forest), injuries (minor only, thankfully), and rotation schedule for the coming days.

When Dawson finally dismissed us, I staggered to the showers, letting hot water sluice away layers of soot and sweat. My muscles screamed in protest at even this simple movement,but beneath the fatigue was a profound relief. We'd contained the fire. No lives lost. No homes destroyed. Not this time.

Clean but still bone-weary, I checked my phone for the first time since morning. Three messages from Peyton:

Heard the fire's been contained. So relieved.

I'm at the community center helping with the evacuees. They're saying everyone is safe.

Hope you're okay. Let me know when you can.

My fingers felt clumsy as I typed a response:

Everyone safe. Fire contained. Still at station. Will come to center after.

Her reply was immediate:

Thank god. I'll be here.

Something loosened in my chest at those simple words. She was safe. She was waiting. After all the uncertainty and danger of the day, those facts felt like solid ground beneath my feet.

I found Dawson in his office, completing paperwork despite the late hour. "Captain, I'm heading to the community center to check on the evacuation shelter."

He looked up, exhaustion evident in the lines around his eyes. "Official capacity?"

"No, sir."

A knowing smile flickered across his face. "Give my regards to Ms. Chambers."

I nodded, not bothering to question how he knew.

The community center parking lot was still half-full when I arrived, mostly emergency vehicles and volunteers' cars. Inside, the elegant gala decorations remained, creating a surreal backdrop for the makeshift evacuation shelter. Cots lined one wall, while tables of supplies and food occupied another. Despite the late hour, people milled about—some evacuees looking shell-shocked, others volunteers coordinating services.

I scanned the room, searching for Peyton. I found her near the refreshment table, distributing coffee to tired-looking residents. She wore jeans and a simple T-shirt now, her hair pulled back in a ponytail—a far cry from the elegant woman in green silk I'd left this morning. Yet something in my chest tightened at the sight of her, a feeling I was finally ready to name.

She looked up, as if sensing my presence, and our eyes locked across the room. For a moment, neither of us moved. Then she set down the coffee pot and walked toward me, picking up speed until she was almost running.

I opened my arms just as she reached me, catching her against my chest. She buried her face in my neck, her arms tight around my waist.

"You're okay," she whispered, voice thick with emotion. "You're really okay."

I held her closer, breathing in the scent of her hair. "I'm okay," I confirmed. "Everyone's okay."

She pulled back slightly to look at my face, her eyes shining with tears. "I was so worried. All day, all those peoplecoming in with stories about the fire, and I kept thinking about you out there..."

"I thought about you too," I admitted, surprising myself with the honesty. "Every minute. Knowing you were waiting... it mattered."

Her hand came up to touch my face, gentle against the stubble on my jaw. "You look exhausted."

"Been a long day."

"But you still came here instead of going home to sleep."

I shrugged, unable to explain that after everything I'd seen today, the thought of returning to my empty cabin held no appeal. "Wanted to see you."

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