She was right, of course. It made no sense for her to leave her bike here.
“Don’t you have to run every day, anyway?” he asked, straight-faced. Smokejumpers—firefighters in general—were required to stay physically fit.
She picked up her helmet and settled it on her head, fastening the strap under her chin. Her response was equally serious, although her expressive eyes danced as she spoke. “I don’t normally run in leather. It chafes, especially on a hot day.”
He’d always had a weakness for women, but it had been a long time since he’d met one as interesting as this. She was cute and had a good sense of humor. She reminded him of…
Damn it.
He had a type—he knew it—and Jazz O’Reilly was ticking those boxes, too. With any luck, she’d have a boyfriend. A husband. A significant other. Maybe all three. Thank God, the Endeavour, Custer County, and the state of Montana that he didn’t have the free time to find out, because for the sake of his sanity, the next woman he pursued was going to be the homebody type.
He turned away. At least she wore a helmet, which wasn’t legally required in the state of Montana. She got points for that. “You’ll have to follow me. Stay back, though. It’s been dry and you’ll be eating dust, otherwise.”
He drove the whole way in second gear, monitoring his rearview mirror to keep her in sight. A few miles from the ranch, he turned down a dirt road. The sign on the left pronounced it Custer County Airport.
The signage was somewhat ambitious, however. The airfield had three runways, which would allow for general aviation services, but its facilities had been sadly neglected. Nothing but private airplanes owned by locals had been serviced here in more than a decade.
The dirt road extended another five miles. He hadn’t worried too much about its condition until now. He winced at the thought of how much improvements to it might cost. It was fine for Ryan to say the money was there for him to use, but Dan couldn’t quite wrap his head around an unlimited budget. If they wanted to preserve the intent of the Endeavour’s bequest—that it be used for public service—then they had to be practical. Paving a dirt road because the new base manager rode a Harley wasn’t enough to justify the expense. Besides, the road on the far side of the airfield that led into Grand—the one the local volunteer firefighters used—was already paved and maintained by the county.
The airfield sat on the edge of the flat, grassy plain before badlands began. One side had been completely fenced off to keep free-range cattle away. The other side had been seeded in alfalfa. A soft carpet of green already blanketed the wakening fields.
Dan pulled up next to a hangar that had been remodeled into a firefighter base station. Jazz parked beside him. He could find no fault with her driving, but then, how could he? He’d driven so slow even his grandfather would have gotten impatient and passed him.
She swung one long leg off the bike, her attention sweeping the tarmac that fronted the building. A government plane, complete with pilot, was due to arrive at the end of the month and aerial surveys would begin.
He got out of his SUV and leaned on the hood. “Let me show you around.”
The interior of the steel-fabricated hangar was cool compared to the outside warmth of the day. He showed her the office with its computer and desk, the ready room, then the para-cargo bay. Jazz quickly went through the bills of lading for the boxes of equipment that had already arrived and were stored against one wall of the bay.
“I’ll need to hire a materials handler,” she said, and returned the clipboard to its hook by the office door.
Dan already had a few candidates in mind. “I can take care of that.”
Obviously preoccupied with business, she didn’t so much as spare him a look. “Thanks, but I’d prefer to take care of it myself. I need to know I can trust the person I put in charge of our safety gear.” Her attention shifted to the loft and catwalk above them. “The sleeping quarters are up there?”
He could find no fault with her professionalism. She’d been focused one hundred percent on the base and the safety equipment the smokejumpers required since they’d walked into the hangar. Some of his disquiet eased. So she drove a Harley. So what?
They climbed the set of stairs at the far end of the bay. Six bunks had been crammed into a room at the top of the stairs. The two smokejumpers assigned to the base for the summer were men she likely already knew, given the size of the smokejumper pool. But then there was the pilot, who’d be on rotation, the new materials handler, and a local volunteer—also on rotation.
“You sure you’re okay with these sleeping arrangements?” Dan couldn’t keep from asking, even though he was beginning to sound like her mother.
“It’s usually the guys’ wives and girlfriends who have complaints. But at the end of the day, we all have to trust each other if we’re going to work as a team.” The sparkle returned to Jazz’s cheerleader smile. “Besides, I’m pretty particular about who I let pack my parachute.”
Had she just made a sexual reference?
Dan couldn’t be sure. He did, however, hear the echo of another woman’s voice in her words, and it gave him chills. Andy had been liberal when it came to sleeping arrangements, too.
Not that he could cast stones.
“Suit yourself,” he said.
He didn’t bring up the next problem, which was that she’d be all alone out here until the two seasonal smokejumpers arrived, because he’d simply assign a deputy to monitor the airfield at night until then. He wasn’t doing it because the tiny, misnamed town of Grand, Montana, was a hotbed of crime. It was just that one could never be sure who the crazies might be, or where they’d turn up. His stint as sheriff had opened his eyes.
The room next to the sleeping quarters had been converted into a small kitchenette with a refrigerator, two hotplates, a sink with a portable dishwasher, and partially-stocked cupboards. After that, the tour of the smokejumper base was pretty much over.
“Call the number on the fridge and the supermarket in Grand will deliver whatever groceries you need. They’ll bill it to our account,” he said. If she had any concerns about what she’d seen so far, he couldn’t tell.
“What’s in the other hangars?” she asked.