splashing with every step, and climbed on the float, gripping the swan's wings.
Okay, here we go, she thought as she waded out into deeper water, pushing the float ahead of her.
She wished that she could speak while in her jaguar shape. She would just have to hope that the kids remembered what they were supposed to do and held on tightly to the float.
Behind her, Bob, Kathy, and Susan began pumping up a giant unicorn float. If Maggie couldn't manage to transport all the kids across the lake before the fire reached the campsite, their last-ditch effort would be to load all of the remaining children onto the floats and push them out as far as they could towards the middle of the lake.
Halfway across the lake, Maggie realized that she had made the right decision to shift to her jaguar shape, even at the risk of exposing her secret to the world, because the water was really fricking icy.
She hoped to God that they didn't fall off. This far out, hypothermia could easily claim a young child.
Her four big paws acting as paddles, she swam rapidly across the lake. To her relief, both of her young passengers stayed put safely on the float. They reached the other side in less time than she had estimated.
Maybe I'll be able to save everyone after all, she thought, as her passengers dismounted in the shallows and she pushed the swan back into deeper water for her return trip.
Then she saw that the fire was now just a few hundred yards away from the rocky shoreline and closing in fast.
Shit. Shit. Shit. I need to take three kids on my next trip. Except I can't talk to anyone to tell them about the change in plans. Shit.
She began to swim faster.
Just as she emerged from the shallows and was shaking water from her dripping fur, movement caught her eye in a narrow corridor of forest between two rapidly converging wings of fire.
A moment later, a line of people wearing fire-resistant yellow shirts, helmets, and goggles emerged from the tree cover.
The five men and two women wore backpacks and carried a selection of axes, chainsaws, and mattocks.
Firefighters! Maggie was relieved beyond words to see them, even though she knew that these newcomers were in the same bad situation as the rest of them. All of them were screwed unless they could get to the far shore.
The newcomers jogged up to the group of campers huddled on the lakeshore, surrounded by an assortment of inflatable unicorns, swans, and even a pirate raft. Bob, Kathy, Susan greeted them with enthusiasm.
And now instead of eleven more people to take across the lake, I've got eighteen, Maggie realized, despair gut-punching her. Shit.
Bob said something to the group of firefighters and pointed straight at her.
All of them turned to look at her, and Maggie swore silently.
Because, hey, no one expects a jaguar in Colorado. Maybe they'll think I escaped from a zoo or something.
What she didn't expect was for one of the firefighters to come striding over to her, his face alight with curiosity.
He removed his hard hat and goggles, revealing that he was a tall, well-built Latino man with glossy black hair wound into a man-bun, and smooth, deeply tanned features under a layer of soot and grime. He had killer high cheekbones and gorgeous, soulful brown eyes surrounded by a fringe of thick black lashes.
Maggie's first reaction to him was, OMG, he's smoking hot!
Then he squatted in front of her, grinned, and spoke. "Hey, pretty kitty, where'd you come from?"
He extended his hand cautiously, as if she was some kind of stray cat he wanted to pet.
Yes, yes, stroke me, Mr. Hotness. She swayed towards him, then froze as she caught his scent.
He's a jaguar shifter like me!
All of her red flags shot up in reaction to her visceral attraction to him. She'd been screwed over—literally—once too often to trust her instincts when it came to hot men, especially hot shifter men.
Maggie lifted her upper lip, exposing just enough fang to warn him to keep his hands to himself. She added a low growl, just in case he didn't get the message.
His black brows shot up, and he stopped reaching for her. Then he withdrew his hand and slowly rose from his crouch.
He didn't look angry, though. Just intensely curious and satisfyingly wary.
Okay, so he's not the dumb-but-pretty type, she observed, and found herself glad that he was okay with taking "no" for an answer.