Jump Point - Ophelia Sexton Page 0,4

dark-blue eyes and a warm smile. He'd grown a beard since Kara had seen him at his wedding, which had taken place a few weeks before this fire season began.

Originally from Alaska, Carl had worked with the Rocky Mountain Smokejumpers for six fire seasons. Then, last autumn, he'd gotten mated. He and his new mate Michelle had decided to relocate from Colorado to his wolf pack's territory in Palmer, located near Anchorage on the southern Alaskan coast.

"First of all," Carl said, in a voice that carried all the way to the back of the ready room, "I'd like to welcome our guests from the Missoula, North Cascades, Redding, and Rocky Mountain Smokejumpers. I'm sure you've all heard by now that the McKinley Fire is a gnarly one, and we're real glad to see all of you guys."

Kara saw heads nodding all around her. The fire had made the national news, and while it was currently burning within the boundaries of Denali National Park, it would only take a shift of the wind to send a firestorm raging towards the homes and communities built along the highway that skirted the park's eastern border.

Carl continued, "All right. Before I call roll, a couple of announcements. First off, a field biologist from State Fish and Game is giving a class later this morning on grizzly and black bears. This might be of interest to those of you who've never seen a grizzly in the wild. Basically, he's going to inform you that bears are highly unpredictable, have big teeth and claws, and can outrun you. If you're interested in the class, let me know after roll call. Also, there will be a weapons certification class for those of you planning to carry guns. Just remember, the unofficial policy is: 'Don't shoot them unless they've actually started eating you.'"

A ripple of nervous laughter moved through the assembled smokejumpers at that.

"But any Alaskan will tell you," Carl said, "bear spray works better than a gun. And also, given the size of this fire and the number of jumpers working the line, you're gonna be in bigger danger from the Alaska state bird—" Carl paused, and the Alaska Smokejumpers in the crowd chuckled knowingly "—or as the folks from the Lower 48 call them: mosquitoes. Don't forget to pack mosquito nets and plenty of bug dope, or you're gonna be really sorry."

As Carl continued with the daily forecast weather and wind conditions briefing, Kara struggled to push down the hurt and disbelief fogging her brain, and concentrate on this important information.

Then a big hand settled on her shoulder, its warmth soaking through her t-shirt.

"Hey, Joker, you okay?" Mike Nakano murmured.

He was a tall Japanese-American man from California. Like Kara, he was in his early thirties. He had high cheekbones, warm brown eyes, crew-cut black hair, and shoulders a mile wide in the typical linebacker bear shifter build.

Mike and Kara had joined the Rocky Mountain Smokejumpers at the same time. She had nicknamed him "Grumpy Bear" on their first day of rookie training, and that nickname had stuck throughout the subsequent fire seasons, even after she realized that he was anything but grumpy.

Sure, Mike tended to be the quiet, serious type. But time after time, she'd seen how even-tempered and calm he remained in situations when she was cussing up a storm and ready to pull her hair out.

After working with him through seven fire seasons, she had also come to realize that he might not be the one cracking loud jokes and barking orders, but he was always there whenever one of his teammates needed an assist—or just a listening ear.

No bullshit. No ego. Patient. Kind. And able to give you his full attention when you talked to him.

Kara hadn't met many people—men or women—with the ability to focus like that. Most people—and she included herself in this assessment—tended to multitask with a phone in one hand and an ear kept perked for interesting conversations happening nearby.

"I—" she began, ready to spill her bleeding heart to him.

Then she got a grip on herself. This wasn't the time or the place. "I'm fine," she lied. "It's nothing."

But she couldn't lie to a fellow shifter, not with scent and other factors to betray how upset she was feeling right now.

To her relief, though, Mike didn't push.

"Okay." He just gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Let me know if you want to talk."

She nodded, and instantly began missing the comfort of his touch when he withdrew his hand.

Chapter 3

Pack-Out

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