Page 5 of Stuck With the Smokejumper

Dani glances at Ivy. “She got you?”

“At five in the morning.”

“I'm sorry.”

“No, you're not.”

Dani takes another drink of coffee. “I'm a little sorry.”

Mabel rolls onto her back.

Ivy points at her. “Look at that. No remorse.”

“She's a cat,” Dani says. “Remorse isn't part of the package.”

Ivy pours herself more coffee. She's been doing a good job pretending nothing unusual happened this morning. Considering she woke me by landing on top of me, got flipped onto her back, and then had an audience show up before either of us had figured out what was happening, I can't blame her. I'm willing to pretend it didn't happen too. Mostly.

I've known Ivy for a few years, but only in pieces. A couple days around the crew house. An afternoon in town when Reid and I had a few days between assignments. Long enough to know I like her. Long enough to know I’m attracted to her. Never long enough for either fact to matter much.

Tessa slides eggs onto a platter. “Food's ready.”

That gets everybody moving. Nolan abandons his cereal. Dani gets plates from the cabinet. Ivy grabs the toast as it pops up. Within a minute, every open section of counter is covered with food.

There's no real dining room and not enough chairs at the kitchen table. Tessa sits on the counter. Ivy leans against the sink. I end up standing beside Reid. I load my plate with eggs, toast, and bacon. Reid reaches over and takes a piece of bacon off my plate.

I slap his hand away. “You already stole some.”

“That's why I know it's good.”

“Get your own.”

“The plate is all the way over there.”

It's four feet away. I move my plate to my other hand. He grins and goes to get his own.

A guitar riff comes through the speaker on top of the refrigerator.

Nolan looks up from his plate. “Who is this?”

“Tom Petty,” I say.

Nolan squints, like he's deciding whether to be impressed. Reid doesn't even look up. He already knows I'm right about these things.

Nolan reaches for the cereal box again, then stops. “Wait. You're the Beck?”

“Depends what everyone's been saying.”

“That you free-fell into a bog once and didn't get out for two hours.”

“It was a marsh,” I say. “And I got out in twenty minutes.”

Nolan looks between us like he's contemplating something. “Okay, but you jumped. Actually jumped. Out of a plane. On purpose.”

“That's generally how it works.”

“Was it terrifying?”

“First time or every time?”