Free Wildfire on the Skagit (Firehawks Book 9) by M. L. Buchman Page B

front of the bunk house and, blinking at the late morning sunlight like an owl, started doing some stretches.
    “Hey, Rook!”
    “Hey, Master Sergeant!” Gods but she looked fantastic. “Damn but that smile of yours is a pleasure to wake up to.”
    Her smile got even bigger.
    “We first up?” The camp was quiet; silent enough for a family of deer to be browsing the other side of the air strip along the line of MHA’s jump planes and helicopters.
    “Been up for hours, Rook. You’re about the last one out of the sack. Everyone else is down at the Doghouse for lunch.”
    “Sounds great! Let’s go. I could eat a horse or one of those deer; got your bow and arrow handy?” He always lost ten or fifteen pounds each fire season because it was impossible to consume as many calories as he was burning. He felt at least five thousand shy at the moment. Evan started moving in on her wondering if he could get a treat before they ate.
    Krista pushed him aside, but not before he got in a nice kiss and a quick feel. “Go see if you can beg breakfast from Betsy.”
    Getting some calories and dragging Krista back into the woods on a beautiful summer’s day sounded like a great idea. He headed for the kitchen to see if Betsy had forgiven him for shattering her door.
    “And Rook?” she called when he was halfway there.
    “Yeah?”
    “Eat fast.”
    Didn’t have to tell him twice.
    # # #
    Ten minutes and only a bit of a groveling for forgiveness later, he was back out at one of the picnic tables with a pair of monster burgers, all the trimmings, and a mug of black coffee that had never been near an Army coffee urn. It must be in some manual somewhere that all Army coffee was required to be served well burnt or maybe the urns were simply all set to stun. Betsy used Honduran beans and a smooth Italian roast for MHA’s signature fare. Totally awesome. Another nice MHA bonus.
    As for bonuses, Krista sat down across from him as he ate. Not at the same table so that he could play footsie with her, but instead leaning back against the next table over with her feet propped on the other bench of his table. It let him truly admire the woman.
    Jeans, sneakers, a black t-shirt with a simple “Smokejumper” stretched wide across. Dark shades hid the blue eyes. Her smile was up to something and he couldn’t wait to find out what it was.
    “You make me wonder what I ever saw in other women.”
    “Are you like Ox? Want your women pixie sized?”
    “Nope,” he bit into his second burger and continued admiring her. “Always liked ‘em long, just never thought about one who could keep up with me.”
    “Oh, I’m way ahead of you, Rook.”
    “How’s that?”
    “Told you to eat fast. Too late now,” and Krista pointed toward the parking lot.
    Evan took another bite of his burger and turned to follow where she pointed. Nothing there. He was about to turn back when he picked up the sound of a big diesel engine changing gears, downshifting for the steep final climb up into the parking lot. Truck-sized. No, his Army training adjusted the assessment even as he made it. Bus-sized. Different timbre to the exhaust.
    In a dust cloud, a yellow school bus crested the dirt road and swung into the lot. On the side were the words “Hood River High School.” On the display over the windshield it just said “Special.”
    “What the—”
    “You wanted off the jump line, Rook. You got it.”
    The bus wheezed to a halt and the engine rattled to a stop.
    “Mount Hood Aviation Smokejumper Camp for girls. We do this every summer.”
    He’d known she and Akbar were up to something with how affable they were being about everything, but this was way the hell out of bounds. Ox’s “Hallelujah” was explained and Evan was so screwed.
    Girls began climbing off the bus. High school ones that even at this distance he could see were armed with smart phones and attitude.
    “What’s this got to do with getting a break?”
    Krista was on her feet. “Akbar