Rescued By Her Rival. Amalie Berlin
way back.
“Had to put Kolinski in charge for this one,” Treadwell muttered, shaking his head. “Never seen one so bad so early.”
The answer was both oblique and telling. “I can take these guys this morning if you need to catch some sleep.”
The old man smiled at him, the first time in a long time, and for the moment he felt like he was doing things right. “I can make the morning PT, son. Might take you up on it for the afternoon. I’m passing you lot to the other trainers for classroom time after. We’re hitting the tower.”
“So soon?” The tower usually came in the second week.
“I want to make sure everyone’s ready for the season as early as possible.”
Translation: he thought they might need to pull in some rookies early. The fire must be really bad.
He looked north, and with the brightening sky, even a forty-minute flight south of the wildfire, he could see haze against the pinks and blues of dawn.
Treadwell started forward again to begin PT.
When Beck looked at Autry, he could see the concern still there. He hesitated only a moment, then moved back to her side to continue their quiet conversation. “It’s a bad one.”
“Did we lose anyone?”
We. She’d already invested, even not knowing anyone. He could hear it in her voice, and although the same worry creaked down his stiff spine, he knew how to divorce himself from it. To keep making good decisions. It was anyone’s guess whether or not she could.
“He would’ve said. He didn’t. But we’re hitting the tower for classroom today.”
“What?”
Her voice, far more shrill than its usual pleasant timbre, drew his gaze.
“You don’t want to do the tower?”
“We haven’t done the pack run yet.” He could see her trying to moderate her reaction, waving a hand as if to dismiss the alarm still there in her features, even though her voice had dropped down off the treetops.
Afraid of jumping? That would really get in the way of the job.
Couldn’t be that.
“You’re getting worked up because the schedule is different than you expected.”
She cleared her throat, waved her hand again and finished off her coffee. “I’m fine with it.”
Bull.
“Wouldn’t be surprised if the pack run was this morning’s PT.” He let her off the hook, but then they quieted to listen as Treadwell announced they’d be doing a body carry around the track this morning.
“Or not.”
The chief asked if there were preferences for partners, and he glanced over just in time to see her hand shoot up and point to him once and then at herself.
“Ellison and Autry.” The chief marked their names on the list.
“You want me to carry you?”
“No. I’m going to carry your grumpy butt,” she answered without pause. “Your neck and your night in a trunk would make it hard for you to carry anyone.”
“I don’t need to be carried.”
“Shut up, Beck.”
She used his first name, and rather than annoying him he found himself smiling.
“You’re pushy, Lauren.”
“Damned right I am. I grew up in a fire family who still don’t want me to serve. Dad’s chief in our house, and my three big brothers are also all in the same station. I’m surprised you don’t know that.”
“You’re the one who’s been obsessed with me the past two years.”
She paled then and in response shoved him with one hand, just hard enough for him to sway a little. “Shut up. I wasn’t obsessed. I just remembered. And then your name was everywhere, like the universe was gloating at me.”
“I see. I don’t know what you mean about my name being everywhere, but whatever you say.” He didn’t usually tease people. Or play. Or flirt. Crap, he was flirting. What was even being talked about before he started down this alien path?
Her family at the fire station...
“Why would I know about your family?” he asked, but Treadwell blew his whistle, calling everyone to the track.
“Autry’s kind of a legendary name in the fire service. Maybe in the forest service, it’s not.”
He didn’t pay attention to that kind of thing, which he almost regretted now. It sounded like they’d paid no small part in turning her into a tight little ball of competitive energy.
Which he hoped didn’t mean she’d over-extended herself by volunteering to carry him.
“I’m heavier than I look, you know.”
“You look like you’re made of lead.” She finished her coffee and held out her hand for the empty cup he was also holding. “See if you can make it to the track, iron man. I’ll meet you there.”
“You know if you drop me or crap out, we’re both in the muck.”
She turned around, shoulders popping up. “Trust me.”
Easier said than done. But the truth was, she’d be the one getting a strike if she couldn’t do it, he was already in. If anything, Treadwell would look upon him allowing her to carry him as a mark of his team spirit, especially as it was the most undignified position. Especially when she was almost a foot shorter than he was, and at least sixty pounds lighter.
Regardless, they were soon both at the track, Treadwell saying, “Once around, Ellison. Don’t drop her.”
“I’m carrying,” Autry corrected, making the chief pause and look her up and down once, then shift the same measuring but obviously tired look to him.
“I told her I was heavy.”
“And I told him to trust me,” she countered, and then slowly turned to look across the track, three lanes in, where two of the guys were snickering, and he remembered the name of neither of them. It took her turning for him to pick up that they were laughing at her. At the idea of her carrying him.
This was it. This was what she’d been talking about last night.
They weren’t snickering out of concern, it was a joke to them. They didn’t think she could do it.
He felt a whiff of shame as the next thought crystallized: he’d questioned whether she could do it too, even after she’d said it. Still questioned it, had only made a decision to trust her, which was something he’d never do with the bozos, now doing the far more obnoxious version of what he and Treadwell had just done.
After his offer, he couldn’t let it stand, regardless of the state of his neck.
Beck surged forward, ignoring the stiff, pinching pain in his neck, and didn’t stop until he was chest to chest with the one who had laughed the loudest. “Problem?”
The man stood up straighter, meeting his gaze and holding it, a challenge there. Briefly, then he took a step back, not saying anything in response.
It was always a gamble in a crowd of tough guys, going straight for the most aggressive maneuver, but whether it was Beck’s seniority or the amount of disgust dripping off him, the man backed down.
“She’s really small,” he said. “If she can carry you around the track, I’ll buy her a case of beer.”
“Yeah, she’s shorter than you, and she’s probably tougher,” Beck replied, not backing off yet but not escalating