Page 20 of Steamy Dreamy Hearts

EIGHT

CALEB

The air was thick with smoke and the scent of burning, the shouts of our fellow firefighters amid the crackling flames and hiss of water drowning them out. Sweat trickled down my temples, slick on my neck and back. I glanced at Smack, catching his gaze, and we hauled out the hose line.

Fire season had now become a year-round event. Captain Smack and I had been fighting this one for days. The wind, unfortunately, was not our friend. Embers blew, and another two fires resulted. One of the newer fires was headed right toward some suburban sprawl.

Bone-tired, we worked the hose line for hours. In our downtime, we called family, ate a little, slept poorly in the tight confines of the trailer. The only positive was sleeping near Captain Smack, even if it was innocently, though I was hyperaware of the mint of his toothpaste, the steady warmth of his body in the bed we shared, my knees at his ass, our bodies curling awkwardly to avoid any touching. I had to admit I missed the connection, the warmth, of sleeping near another person,though. Despite the fire, a selfish part of me was happier here. I was busy, with less time to think.

Thinking wasn’t my friend. It was too easy to slip into darker ideas. Or self-pity. The wildfire put this into perspective. I hadn’t lost my place to live or, God forbid, my loved ones. And I was doing good here, even if the fires still weren’t fully contained. Captain Smack had been responsible for the 60 percent containment we accomplished. He was strategic. He followed the orders of others, but it was his quick thinking that used some helicopters to our advantage on the ground. Today, though, the winds had kicked up again, and we lost some much-needed ground. More air tankers were being flown in.

We scrambled down the brush. Smack matched my speed, untangling more line. The fire was a living thing, an insatiable beast. And I felt every callus on my fingers. My muscles strained. I hadn’t fully slept in days. The shockingly cold spray hit part of my face. The fire was loud, groaning. I peered at the sky, a mushroom cloud of black.

“Let’s go for a defense attack,” Smack said.

It made sense to me. Fighting the fire directly might not be feasible, especially if there was hazardous material around, which was the case with many wildfires.

“Will it be enough?” I asked Smack. Grime covered every inch of my body, but I’d press on if it meant some success.

Smack grimaced. I could see every etched worry line near his eyes, despite his mask. “It’s gotta be enough.”

We fought onward, closer to the flames. The helicopters above us dumped water, but the wind was stealing it, making it miss the mark. Meanwhile, it felt like a high-burning dryer all around us, the air hot and heavy. Seeing the helicopter, I had to fold my arms to my sides to fight the urge to flag it down. I wanted to be of use now, not later.

Panting a little, Smack signaled we should take a break. Part of me didn’t want to stop, but I knew he was being practical. We walked to a clearing and took small sips of water.

Smack closed his eyes. “It’s a rough one today.”

“Are you regretting volunteering?”

“No.” The look on his face was determined.

“Me either. Although I am fantasizing about gooey cheese pizza and some cold beer instead of this water.”

Smack’s gaze swung back to mine. “Beer would be paradise right now.” His eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled.

God, I liked him. He’d been my boss for years, and we’d gone along in those roles just fine, with nothing changing, and then—being on this road trip with Smack, it all felt like change had arrived. Like this was the time that all the rest was building towards.

“We could grab two cold ones back in Phoenix?” I suggested, trying to sound casual. “I know this great little sports bar…”

“Caleb, I—” He stopped abruptly, as if realizing where we were. “I need another sip of water. My throat is dry.”

I nodded, disappointed. But what did I expect from him? “Want to check the perimeter?” I asked. “Maybe we can help somebody?”

“Let’s do it.” Smack rested a hand on my shoulder.

Everything inside of me felt that casual touch. Sometimes the dynamic between us was boss and coworker, and his touch didn’t affect me. Other times—like this one—the slightest touch felt intentional.

“Ready?” Smack nodded toward the road.

The outside air was thick and hot, overcast with the gray of smoke. I nodded, adjusting my mask.

We trudged uphill in our heavy gear, searching for signs of distress. A different time, I’d have stopped and admired the view. It was beautiful country. Towering trees that had been herefor decades made me look in wonder. They were breathtaking and now in jeopardy of being destroyed.

A bend in the trail revealed several homes, some already deadened from previous burns. We kept on moving until we saw some farmland. It was better here, still with a promise of people and animals.

I walked near a green Adirondack chair, my feet crunching over a few twigs. There was a cute fire pit near it. Not that anybody needed a fire pit this season. It made me sad to consider the folks who must have enjoyed their property only to flee from it now.

Smack checked the closest farmhouse, finding nobody. Then we checked another. Only a burnt truck was left, the metal twisted. We walked a little further past some brown grass. Smack scowled, taking in the loss of vegetation.

---