poking through before a landscape full of Blue Spruce and Aspen trees.
“That fire station up the road … is that the hotshot station?”
“And the city’s second station. But some of the guys who work there are seasonal hotshots—like Tyler and Zeke. During fire season they live out at the Alpine barracks.”
“What is a seasonal hotshot?”
“During fire season, they eat, sleep, and travel around the country fighting fires. Three to six months of the year.”
“Oh,” I said, wondering if Tyler was already gone.
Wick sparked the white paper and tobacco and took a puff, then handed me the lighter so I could do the same with one of my father’s stale leftovers. The pack had three somewhat mashed cigarettes left, and I had just thirty-four dollars of the money Finley had left for me. Prices weren’t something I had paid attention to, but I was sure I couldn’t afford cigarettes before my first paycheck.
“Does nine hundred a week mean you pay me every week, or were you just talking wages?” I asked, rubbing my head. I could feel a headache coming on.
“Every week. Just like my bar staff.”
“So … on Friday?”
“Friday.”
Seconds after Wick answered, I heard boots crunching against snow. Zeke and Tyler rounded the corner, already smoking and carrying on conversation. They both looked happy but unsurprised to see me, and then both took a turn shaking Wick’s hand.
“Taylor!” Wick said. He noticed his street clothes the same time I did. “You must be off today.”
I frowned, wondering if Wick was trying to be funny or he’d just gotten Tyler’s name wrong.
“I heard you finally found someone to put up with your shit, Wick,” Tyler said.
Wick had told Zeke and Tyler the day before I was hired. Now he acted as if he’d found out from someone else.
Zeke took a drag of his cigarette, and then playfully pulled at the sleeve of my puffy navy-blue coat. “Confused?”
I arched an eyebrow, unsure if it was a trick question.
Their laughter was cut off by the sound of Zeke’s pager. He pulled the clip from his belt and held it up, squinting. “That’s me.”
He patted Tyler on the shoulder as he nodded to Wick. “Maybe I’ll see you guys this afternoon. It’s just a meeting.”
I waved to him, and then crossed my arms as the air between the three of us who remained quickly turned awkward. Tyler and Wick traded smug grins, clearly sharing a silent joke at my expense. I glared at them, relieved when Jojo poked her head out through the back door.
“Annie is on the phone for you.”
“I’m on a break,” Wick growled.
“You should probably take it. It’s the refrigerator again.”
“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” Wick said, tossing his cigarette and missing the canister.
The back door slammed behind him, and I picked up his still-lit butt and buried the end in the sand.
“Good thing you picked that up,” Tyler said.
“I’ve heard that one already,” I said, taking a drag.
Tyler pulled his cap low over his eyes, and then shoved his hands deep in his coat pockets. Before I could ask him how he managed to get the day off, he grinned.
“How is it? Working for Wick?” he asked.
“Not as bad as I thought it would be.”
“That’s unexpected.”
I took another drag, watching him put out a cigarette and light another. “Do you come here every day?”
“During fire season, yes. In off season, if I’m here.”
“When are you not here?”
“When I’m traveling.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?” he asked. I could see that familiar desire in his eyes, even behind the shadow cast by his ball cap. The dimple in his left cheek deepened, and he leaned a millimeter in my direction.
Even that nominal response made the old me wish for a bottle of bourbon and a dark room. I swallowed. The old me was just two days away, and she wasn’t buried deep enough to withstand the way Tyler was looking at me. I wanted to hide underneath his body and replace the pain with his fingers digging into my hips and to watch him tense while he thrust himself deep inside me, forgetting everything else but Tyler’s rough hands on my bare skin, letting the sweet escape of intoxication carry me through.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I snapped.
“Like what?”
“Like you’ve seen me naked.”
“Have I?”
I rolled my eyes, bending down to put out my cigarette.
“Hey,” he said, reaching out. He scanned my face, almost as if he was trying to remember. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”