Page 8 of Hot for the Mountain Man

"Shit," he gasped, eyes wide behind his mask. "Thanks, man."

I nodded, my pulse steady despite the close call. This was the job—reading dangers before they became disasters, making split-second decisions to keep everyone safe. It was straightforward, unlike the way my mind had been drifting to green eyes and a soft laugh for days now.

When Captain Dawson called time, we retreated from the burn zone, completing the exercise with a near-perfect score. As we stripped off our outer gear, I felt the familiar satisfaction of doing exactly what I was trained for. This—not awkward conversations or unwanted attraction—was where I belonged.

"McAllister," Dawson approached, clipboard in hand. "Good call on that branch. Quick thinking like that is why you're giving the speech at the Fire & Ice Gala."

I grimaced, toweling sweat from my face. "About that, Cap—"

"Not negotiable," he cut me off with a knowing look. "The Ashwood Mountain Conservation Fund needs our department represented, and I'm not about to do it myself." He clapped me on the shoulder, a rare show of camaraderie. "Besides, you haven't worn your dress uniform since last year's review. It's gathering dust."

I scowled but kept further protests to myself. The fundraiser gala loomed just three days away, and I'd somehow become the face of forest fire prevention. Perfect.

After showering at the station, I checked my schedule for the rest of the day: equipment maintenance, paperwork, and a mandatory meeting about the weekend's event. I wasn't looking forward to any of it, but especially not the meeting. Public speaking ranked somewhere between root canal and extended family gatherings on my list of preferred activities.

The locker room had emptied out, most of the guys heading to lunch or back to their stations. I lingered, reluctant to face the day ahead. Leaning against the cool metal of my locker, I stared at the small photo taped inside—Travis and me after our first real jump as a team. His cocky grin, arms slung around my shoulders in easy camaraderie.

If the best friend I’d ever known were here, he'd be mercilessly mocking my anxiety about the fundraiser.It's just a bunch of rich people in fancy clothes, bro. Smile, tell ’em scary stuff about forest fires, and drink their free booze.

"You know they expect us to actually dance at these things?" Martinez's voice broke through my thoughts as he reappeared in the doorway. "Dawson just told me we're all expected to participate in at least one dance. Something aboutcommunity engagement."

"You're fucking kidding me," I muttered, slamming my locker shut.

"Yeah." He grinned.

I groaned in response, rolling my eyes. “Dude. Not funny.”

"Think I can convince that new bartender from The Outpost to be my date?” Martinez continued. “What about you? Taking anyone?"

I shot him a look that answered his question.

"Right," he chuckled. "Silly me. The mountain hermit flies solo."

"I'm not a hermit," I grumbled, grabbing my jacket. "I just prefer my own company."

Martinez fell into step beside me as we headed toward the parking lot. "So, you ready for your big speech at least? Heard Hank Masterson's turning this into Ashwood’s party of the century."

"Can't wait," I deadpanned, fishing my truck keys from my pocket.

"I know you hate this stuff, but look, it really is important for the department. Budget season's coming." Martinez shrugged. "Plus, I hear the food's gonna be worth putting on the penguin suit."

The mention of food reminded me I hadn't eaten since dawn. "Speaking of which, I'm grabbing lunch at the diner. Want anything?"

"Nah, meeting Alicia at Whiskey Creek." He grinned. "Unlike some people, I have a social life."

"Good for you," I muttered, climbing into my truck. Martinez waved as I pulled away, and I found myself envying his easy approach to life. Nothing seemed to faze him, not even a close call during training. Meanwhile, I was tying myself in knots over the upcoming fundraiser and a woman I'd met twice.

Sue’s Place was packed when I arrived, the lunch rush in full swing. I squeezed into the last stool at the counter, nodding at Susie when she glanced my way. She held up a finger, finished taking an order from a family of tourists, then made her way over.

"The usual, handsome?" she asked, already pouring coffee into a mug.

"Thanks, Susie."

The older woman leaned against the counter, studying me with narrowed eyes. "You look like you're carrying the weight of Fire Mountain on those shoulders. More than usual, I mean."

"Just tired." I took a grateful sip of coffee. "Dawson's making me give a speech at the event this weekend."

"Ah." She nodded sympathetically. "The Fire & Ice thing. Hank's been in here every morning this week, going over his lists. You'd think he was planning a royal wedding, not a fundraiser."

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