Slow Burn

1. Maisie

Chapter One

Maisie

“Let me see if I understand you. Your cat got stuck in a tree, so you used your excavator to get him out?” I asked.

“Yes, that’s what I said,” Carrie Dodge explained, her tone exasperated.

I only knew Carrie’s name because that was the second order of business whenever I answered a call at Willow Brook Fire & Rescue. Sadly, I still wasn’t clear on what the nature of Carrie’s emergency was.

“So, is your cat okay?”

Carrie’s sigh came through the line. “Herman is fine. It’s my excavator that’s the problem.”

When I answered a minute ago, Carrie had spoken so quickly, all I’d been able to piece together was something to do with a tree, a cat, and an excavator.

“Tell me what happened to your excavator.”

I waited to hear the excavator had a name. Because this was Alaska and people named their tools and things like that here. I’d only lived here about two years, but I’d quickly come to learn some things were more important than others. Shiny cars—not so much. Excavators or fishing gear—worth their weight in gold.

“Oh, well, it was all fine at first. I got it right up by the tree, and Herman hopped in the bucket no problem. I lowered him to the ground and when I was turning it around, I forgot how close the ditch was and it fell in. I’m stuck inside,” Carrie explained.

Rather calmly, I might add. This was the first mention a human was involved in this emergency beyond the role of an observer.

I tapped the alarm button on my desk. That would alert the crew on duty while I kept Carrie on the line until they arrived at her location. I’d already linked her GPS coordinates to our system. With rapid fire typing, I filled in a summary for the crew to see.

“Are you injured?” I asked Carrie, thinking to myself as long as she was okay, it was almost funny she’d neglected to mention her predicament this far into our call. I’d started out worried about the cat, then the excavator, when lo and behold, she was trapped in an excavator that had fallen in a ditch.

“I think so,” Carrie said with a sigh. “Herman’s looking at me through the window. My shoulder hurts a little.”

“Do you mind if I get some basic info from you while the rescue crew’s headed your way?”

“I suppose not,” Carrie replied with another sigh.

I heard the garage doors opening on the back of Willow Brook’s Fire & Rescue building and the sirens blare. Within seconds, an ambulance was racing past the front windows with a fire truck in its wake.

Carrie was remarkably calm and gave me her information with a few huffs here and there. I sensed she was more annoyed with her situation than with me.

I heard one of the crewmembers radioing to report they were within three minutes. I was the sole dispatcher for Willow Brook Fire & Rescue. Though Willow Brook was a small town in Alaska, nestled in a valley in the foothills of the Alaska Range, its proximity to Anchorage and central location in the state had resulted in its Fire & Rescue crews being one of the hubs in the state. Two interagency hotshot crews ran out of Willow Brook, along with a local crew. All three crews were fully trained for hotshot firefighting, which required intensive training and grueling work. Hotshot teams were sent to the most dangerous, remote fires in the country. Alaska’s sprawling geography lent itself to plenty of fires. The Willow Brook teams mostly served Alaska, however they went wherever they were called. When they weren’t deep in the wilderness fighting wildfires, they handled whatever came up here.

I chatted with Carrie until I heard the crew arrive. As soon as I ended my call with her, my other line beeped, indicating someone from the crew was calling in.

“Yes?”

“Hey Maze, what’s the emergency? The cat or the excavator?” Beck Steele asked.

The moment he spoke, I got annoyed. Beck invariably annoyed me. I could practically see him grinning. I gritted my teeth and told myself I’d stay calm and professional.

“Neither. Carrie, the woman calling, is stuck in the excavator. Aren’t you there?” I asked, proud of myself for keeping my voice perfectly level.

“Not yet. Crew says she’s fine by the way. Mind telling me what this has to do with a cat?”

“Her cat was in a tree. She used the excavator bucket to get him out, and then the excavator tipped into a ditch,” I explained.

“Of course. Because it makes perfect sense to use an excavator to get a cat out of a tree,” he said with a low chuckle, his tone dry.

No matter what, Beck managed to get under my skin. Next thing I knew, I was arguing the point.

“It’s not the worst idea. I mean, she got Herman out of the tree,” I countered.

“Herman?”

“The cat. His name is Herman,” I explained.

Another low chuckle from Beck sent my belly into a tailspin of flutters. I was hot and prickly all over and inanely arguing about the sensibility of using an excavator to get a cat out of a tree.

“Do you need anything else from me?” I snapped.

“Nah. Nice chatting, Maze,” he replied.

The line went dead in my ear. I swore he called me like this just to piss me off. I shook my thoughts off of him, adjusted my headset and quickly entered everything from the call in our data system. I was unusually curious to see how Carrie was. Carrie’s unflappable attitude got to me and made me want to know for certain she’d be okay.

I fielded a few more calls in the time the crew was out. They were still out when the top of the hour rolled around, and the call center in Anchorage took over duty for me to take a break. I still hadn’t heard back from the crew and hoped Carrie was okay. I’d learned it wasn’t the least bit helpful for crews to have me calling to check in, so I’d just have to wait. I powered down my computer and headed into the back area.

Two of our crews were out in the middle of freaking nowhere dealing with two different backcountry fires in Alaska. With the remaining crew out, the back of the station was deserted. I was feeling grubby after a morning changing the oil on the old truck Gram had left me. A side benefit to working at Fire & Rescue was access to the massive garage bays and tools galore. The crews handled all of their own maintenance. Amongst the three crews, there was a single female firefighter, Susannah Gilmore. She was also one of the few friends I had. Lately, she’d taught me how to change the oil in my truck, so I’d tried it this morning when no one was around. I kind of wished she wasn’t out in the field because I didn’t feel comfortable enough to ask any of the guys if I’d done it right.

Whether I’d changed the oil properly or not, I could use a shower. I’d been trying to figure out what to do about my broken hot water heater for over a week now. Cold showers sucked, so I’d been taking advantage of the showers here whenever I could. I preferred not to do so when anyone was around, so I planned to make it quick. The crew hadn’t radioed they were on their way back yet, so I figured I had a little time.

Inside of a few minutes, I was savoring the steaming hot water pouring over me. The industrial hot water pressure here was phenomenal. I wondered if I could find a way to get this kind of pressure at Gram’s house. My heart gave a little squeeze. It was technically my house because Gram had left it to me when she passed away, but I still couldn’t seem to think of it as mine. It felt too much like her. I gave my head a shake and grabbed the soap, quickly soaping myself all over. I was rinsing the shampoo from my hair when I heard a voice.

“What the…”

I opened my eyes to see Beck standing in the entryway to the showers. I might’ve forgotten to mention Beck was the sexiest, most handsome man I’d ever known in person. There he stood in all of his glory. He still had his gear half on, but he’d taken his shirt off. His black curls were a wild mess, and he had dirt streaked on his cheeks and arms. His chest was a work of art—all glistening muscle, every inch of it practically carved from stone. His heavy-duty coveralls were hanging at his waist, tempting my eyes to look further down.

I was so stupidly staring at him, I momentarily forgot I was completely n***d. Beck’s eyes were wide, and his mouth hung open. He snapped it shut, and his eyes—those gorgeous, sinfully green eyes raked over me. If I didn’t know better, I might’ve thought his gaze darkened with desire. But that was crazy, and I was n***d.