From Air (Wildfire)

Chapter Three

JAYMES

“Estrogen!”

My head snaps to attention at the piercing squeal when I enter the house with two bags of groceries and catch an immediate whiff of buttery popcorn.

A long-haired blonde, several inches taller than me, surges in my direction with gregarious energy, a glint in her blue eyes, and her arms spread like an eagle approaching its prey. “I’m Maren.” She hugs me. “Do you love my old room? I already miss it.” Holding me at arm’s length, she gives me a slow assessment. “You’re cute as a button. And so tan. Damn, I need to get to the beach more often.”

“Down, girl,” Will calls from the floor behind the sofa with a foam roller at his back.

“Jamie.” I return a nervous smile. “I’m delighted to meet you.”

She carries my bags to the kitchen while I remove my coat and boots.

“Oh, that bag is—”

Too late.

Maren has my box of tampons on the counter next to my toothpaste and deodorant.

“That goes to my room.” I clear my throat and conceal my embarrassment with an overkill smile.

“I’ll put them in our bathroom. There’s no need to haul your toiletries in and out of the house. If you don’t like my shed, just let me know. We can swap rooms. Traditionally, the shed is for the newbie—the house rookie. But I remodeled it when I moved here, and honestly, it’s the best room in the house because it’s not in the house with these disgusting men.” Maren disappears upstairs with my toiletries.

“Told you she’s a lot.” Will lumbers to standing in his gray low-hanging sweatpants and black T-shirt and joins me in the kitchen to unpack my non-tampon bag of groceries.

I have two bonus roommates and more help than I need.

“This one’s yours.” He organizes my nonperishable items in the empty, faded oak cabinet below the beige-and-green granite counter. And I use the word “organize” lightly.

I’ll redo it later.

“Your shelf in the fridge is the empty one, and we share condiments. If you use the last of something shared, you have eight hours to replace it.”

I laugh.

“I’m not joking.” Will tips his chin toward the stairs. “Fitz will lose his shit if we run out of Dijon. He’s such a mustard snob—puts it on everything.”

“You only have to put up with us for a few months,” Maren notes, popping around the corner while tucking the front of her red-and-white flannel shirt into her black skinny jeans. “When fire season starts, Fitz and I will be nonexistent. And Will spends his days off trying to impregnate half of Montana.”

“Lies. All lies.” Will looks askance at Maren.

I giggle, folding my paper bags. “It’s fine. It sounds like I’d better not get attached to any of you, since you’re leaving me in a few months.”

Will and Maren share somber expressions.

“I said something wrong.” My gaze ping-pongs between them.

They continue to inspect each other for a few more seconds. Then Maren musters a sad smile. “We might as well give you full disclosure.” She swallows hard.

Will starts to stroll past her but stops and kisses the crown of her head before finding his spot on the sofa.

The temperature of the room drops ten degrees in five seconds.

Maren pulls in a shaky breath. “We have a room available for you because my brother, Brandon, died last summer. A firefighter—a hotshot.”

“I’m sorry.” I squeeze her hand, hoping my presence won’t be a reminder that he’s no longer here, the way that box in the shed is a reminder that my mom is gone.

She nods, blinking back the tears. “Thank you. It took me a while to feel okay about sleeping in his room. But it’s oddly comforting now. And go ahead and get attached to us.” Her sadness turns into something resembling hope. “Isn’t that the point of life?”

“Except Fitz. Don’t waste your time on him,” Will adds.

Maren smirks and releases my hand to blot the corners of her eyes. “Definitely don’t waste your time on Fitz. It’s not that he’s a pariah, but he’s not far off.”

“Poor Fitz.” I snicker, retrieving the bag of trail mix from my cabinet. “Maren, what do you do when it’s not fire season?”

She fiddles with the edges of my grocery bags. “I—”

“She transports Professor Gray Balls to his conferences.” Will cackles.

“William, should I be concerned that you seem to know his balls are gray?” Maren asks.

Will ignores her.

With an exaggerated eye roll, Maren returns her attention to me. “Ted is my dad’s best friend and a professor of environmental physics. He travels all over the world to conferences. He’s brilliant. Sought after. And ...” Her nose wrinkles.

“Old?” I question before filling a glass with water from the filtered jug in the fridge.

“Eighty-two,” Maren confesses.

“Maren’s waiting for him to die,” Will says. “Fitz and I firmly believe he’s leaving her all his assets when he dies.”

“Why is that?” I take a sip of cold water.

Maren slides the folded bags under the sink next to the garbage. “Ted never married. No kids. No family other than a sister in Portugal who’s not doing well. And he’s not leaving his money to me.”

“Maren, you massage his anal glands.” Will tosses the game remote aside and grabs a handful of popcorn from the stainless steel bowl on the tree-trunk coffee table.

“Stop.” She snorts. “You’re such a dumbass, Will. It was his dog. And it was only once.”

I bite back my smile when she looks at me. “I’m, uh ...” I jab my thumb over my shoulder toward the back door. “I’m going to go call my friend before it gets any later.” My jaw stretches in a long yawn. “She’s on eastern time, and so is my body. Are you showering? I need to wash off the day’s drive before I pass out.”

“Nope. It’s all yours.”

“Maren never showers.” Will’s relentless.

She flips him the bird without taking her eyes off me. “I don’t wash my hair more than twice a week, hence the shower cap, William .”

This is more than I ever expected. I have a great place to stay and three new friends. Well, two new friends and Calvin Fitzgerald.

Back in my shed, I FaceTime Melissa.

She answers right away, wrapped in a fuzzy pink robe, hair piled in a bun on top of her head, and face covered in a gray clay mask. “Tell me it was a huge mistake, and you’re coming home immediately.”

An irresistible smile creeps along my face while I retrieve sweatpants from my dresser drawer for after my shower. There won’t be any scurrying off to my bedroom in nothing but a towel. “Don’t be mad, but I think I love it here.”

“What? No! You just got there. What can you possibly love already?”

“The snow. The mountains. My room. It’s a shed—a she shed. But look!” I turn my phone in a slow circle.

“That’s super cute.”

“It is.” I plop onto the bed. “The downside is I must trek through the yard and snow to use the bathroom.”

“That seems like an important piece of information to withhold when advertising a room for rent.” Melissa wrinkles her nose, causing the face mask to crack.

“Agreed. But I think I’m going to love my private space. And I have the nicest roommates.”

She clears her throat, giving me the stink eye.

“I’d like to retract that last statement.”

“You’d better.”

I blow her a kiss. “You know I love you the most.”

“You said ‘roommates.’ Is there more than just the guy?”

“Will owns the house. But he has two friends living with him. Another guy and a girl. They’re all firefighters and older. I’m definitely the youngest in the house. Will is an engine chief with the Missoula Fire Department. Maren is a tanker pilot. How badass is that? And Calvin, who they call Fitz, is a smoke jumper. Mel, he jumps out of planes to fight wildfires!”

Her eyes bug out. “That’s ...”

“Mind blowing.”

“Is he single? Is Will? What’s the situation there? I hate cold weather, but if a guy’s hot enough, I think I could relocate.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t asked. I don’t want to sound interested.”

“Well, I’m interested. So, say you’re asking for a friend.”

“That’s code for ‘I’m asking for myself.’”

“Sometimes. But sometimes you’re actually asking for a friend.”

“I need to get showered. I’m exhausted.”

“Don’t leave me hanging, Jaymes!”

With a giggle, I shake my head. “I miss you already.”

“Aw ... I miss you too. But seriously, if those guys are single, I’ll be there by this weekend.”

“Muah! Night, hon.”

“Night.”

I’m sure this will get old, but tonight, I don’t mind throwing on my puffy white jacket and black boots to make my way to the house in the snow.

Maren’s at the kitchen island with her head bowed over her phone, and Will’s stretched out on the sofa watching football. I give Maren a quick smile before jogging up the stairs, feeling ecstatic because my wings have spread wide, and I’m on a new adventure.

“Oof!” I grunt, body slamming into shirtless Calvin and his woodsy scent of bodywash, aftershave, or maybe just rugged Montana masculinity.

He grips my arms and guides me to his side. “In a hurry?”

God took a little extra time sculpting Calvin Fitzgerald—high cheekbones, strong jaw, thick brown hair, and just enough natural body to land him a shampoo commercial if the smoke jumper thing doesn’t work out. It’s unfair to every other man. Don’t even get me started on his intense blue eyes.

There’s a burn scar above his right pec and another peeking out just above the waistband of his sweatpants. He’s fit, to put it mildly. Melissa will never be allowed to visit me.

“I officially feel violated,” Fitz says.

Peeling my gaze from his bare chest, I swallow and smile. My lips tremble, so I press them together. “I have a friend. An herbalist. She makes oils and salves that help scars fade. Good ingredients like, uh ...” I hug my clothes tighter as Fitz lifts an eyebrow. “Calendula, lavender, salvia ... I think some sort of nut oil.”

“A nut oil?”

My cheeks burn. “I think it’s a European filbert or hazelnut.” I stare at my feet, briefly closing my eyes.

Shut up, Jaymes!

“For my scars, not my nuts. Correct?”

Will and Maren were right—Calvin Fitzgerald is an asshole. He’s feasting on my embarrassment.

“I can ask my friend if there’s anything in the salve that might help you grow a pair, but no guarantees.” I lift my chin and smirk, enjoying this triumphant feeling.

“Sucks being homeschooled.”

“Why?” I ask.

He cinches the tie on his sweatpants. “Because you’re given a copious amount of information— Jeopardy! -level miscellaneous information. And while it might make you the most interesting person in the room, it’s not usually in a good way. What starts as an herbal salve recommendation becomes an awkward conversation about testicles.”

“I’m a nurse, Fitz . I can talk testicles all day. What do you want to know? Need me to see if yours have dropped yet?” I mentally air punch—the right words at the right time. I can tell Montana is a perfect fit for me.

Fitz confirms this by rubbing his fingers over his lips to hide his grin. “Welcome to Missoula, Jaymes Andrews.”

Shoulders back. Chin up. This feels amazing.

I wink at Fitz before continuing to the bathroom.