Page 24 of Into the Fire

“The worst kind.” He turned to look at me. “Regional has the packet as of this afternoon. Medical’s entered, Nash’s benchmarks are entered, your jumps are logged, and the gear card’s current. There’s an administrative sign-off that has to come back from Helena, and Marty’s keeping at them about it. Barring a problem, you’re operational.”

“When.”

“Tomorrow. Monday if Helena is Helena.”

I’d given it six weeks. It had taken four.

I drank the coffee. It was exactly as bad as it had been for ten years. I was oddly moved by that.

Boone put his pen down. Then he said, “You waited every time.”

“You noticed.”

“I notice everything.”

“Yeah. I remember.”

He turned his head to look at the board. “There are men I put on that board because their packets say they passed. I wouldn’t put you back on the board if I didn’t trust you up there. It won’t be just the packet talking.”

I nodded.

“Dante,” he said, and stopped. He put the marker down and looked at me.

I reached for his shirt collar and gave it a light tug.

He looked at my hand, then at me.

I waited.

Boone didn’t pull away.

I leaned in slowly. He met me halfway, and our lips collided. They were off center, and then we broke apart maybe two inches, breathing hard at each other.

We kissed again, better aim this time.

He stood, and I kept my hand on his collar. He wrapped an arm around my waist and walked me back until my shoulders hit the wall.

Boone’s lips touched the corner of my jaw, and he kissed below my ear, the exact place he’d kissed me five years ago.

“Is this a requalification requirement?” I asked.

“Shut up.”

“Just checking.”

“This is an addendum,” he said against my throat.

He pressed his lips against mine. I pushed my thigh between his legs. He slid his fingers under the back of my shirt, finding bare skin at the small of my back. I calculated the possibility of Shep showing up and turning this into an extraordinarily bad professional decision.

A gust of air came through the open door. It carried a hint of smoke.

It was likely ordinary. Somebody down the valley was burning slash, or a permitted pile was in flame on some ranch. It was wood smoke floating on the evening wind.

The room disappeared. Heat crawled up one side of my face. Vertigo hit as the ground below me tilted wrong. Dutch was on the ground and to the left. Then I saw past Dutch. Something—

Nothing.

The floor was flat. That was the first thing I got back. I still had hold of Boone’s collar, but he wasn’t touching me.