Jules Cooper, you have got to be the dumbest female on the planet, Jules berated herself as she squatted behind Tyler’s strong back, kneading the kinks out of his shoulders. Her action had been done with good intentions, wanting to ease the pain she saw etched into his face. And maybe the tiniest little bit, she’d cherished the perfect opportunity to get her hands on him with a justifiable excuse.

But she hadn’t planned on the ungovernable reaction she’d have. Suddenly, the most important thing in the world seemed to be keeping her hands upon his person and figuring out a way to throw herself into his arms.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t do that right now. A beast of a fire loomed outside crackling, hissing and demanding attention, and the rest of the crew needed to wake to get after it. She really should stop massaging Tyler, before she gave in to the overwhelming urge of kissing him breathless.

Judging by his shallow bursts of breath and the rising bulge beneath his pants, he fought a similar battle. I have to stop touching him. Now! But her hands wouldn’t obey the order and continued pressing, kneading, sliding across skin sticky with dry sweat and grime.

Even though neither of them had washed in the last twenty-four hours and featured sooty smears on their exposed skin, he couldn’t be sexier. Thankfully a few minutes later, fate ripped the decision out of her hands, literally, as her alarm blared.

Finally, oh finally, she managed to tear her fingers away from Tyler’s skin, to switch of the alarm indicating it was time to wake the crew. “That’s going to have to do it, for now.”

She came around him and stopped when he reached up and grabbed hold of her hand. Looking down into his eyes was almost her undoing.

“Thanks, Jules.”

For a moment she thought he’d pull her down onto his lap and give her the kiss she needed more than her next breath. But he said, “Pull,” and with her help he jumped to his feet without having to use his hands for support.

“I need to wake everyone up. Again.”

“Okay. We’ll beat the beast today.”

“I hope so, rookie.” She walked away and soon noises of crew members getting dressed, disappearing behind the trees to relieve themselves, having their MRE and packing up filled the campsite.

In the meantime, Jules contacted the base of operations via radio, receiving updates on the weather, the wind forecast, and how the fire seemed to be moving.

Thirty minutes later with everyone assembled. Jules assigned the teams that would be working together, and outlined the strategy to defeat the fire.

“Above all else, keep your radios on and the volume up. The fire expanded during the night and the winds are expected to increase throughout the day.”

Everyone nodded and as a group, they headed for the fireline. The crew they were relieving was covered in soot, their faces streaked with sweat and ash. Their eyes showed just how tired they were.

Jules headed off with her partner for the day, Jeb, glad in a way for the strenuous day ahead because it would keep her from thinking about Tyler.

“Cooper?” she got the call over the radio and signaled for Jeb to continue throwing earth on spot fires.

“This is Cooper speaking. What’s up?”

“Hey, we got word that the fire is changing direction again. It’s headed away from your location, but we still need you guys to finish the fireline down the eastern ridgeline. I’m dispatching the truck to pick your team up at 6 p.m. at the third rendezvous point.”

“Roger that. Third rendezvous point just before dark. I’ll make sure we’re there.”

She radioed her squad leaders, relaying the plan for the end of the day and advised everyone to work efficiently and quickly. They had miles of fireline to clear before their day was done and then a three-mile hike to reach their pickup location. It would be another long, long day.

* * *

Eight hours of brutal work later Jules glanced at her watch.

“Team, we have half a mile left to clear and then we need to hump our butts over that ridge to our left to meet the truck for our ride to paradise.”

“Got it, boss.”

“We’re on it.”

Jules made sure everyone checked in, did a quick headcount as she walked down the line where her crew worked, and then got back swinging her chainsaw.

Working inside the fire zone, they sawed and chopped smoldering trees, cleared remaining brush and stomped out fire spots. She looked into nineteen sooty faces, each one more exhausted than the next. But everyone held up well, including the rookies. Out here in the wilderness nobody gave a crap how much weight one could bench, but cared a lot whether the person could swing a tool all day without bitching and whining.

Tyler hadn’t so much as winced, although his ruined hands must be killing him. Blondie disdainfully stared at the snags before cutting them off. And Jeb did his best to hide his limping. A stick propelled through the air had hit his ankle an hour or so ago. She’d have to send him to the doctor to be checked on once they were back on base.

The natural fire break provided by Mother Nature on this part of the mountain was much too close to the neighboring slope to leave things as they were. A strong wind could easily carry burning debris from the treetops over to the dry grasses on the other hillside, spreading the fire and doubling or tripling its size in mere hours. Not on my watch!

They finished the fireline and the crew began the trek out of the woods to the rendezvous point, where the ride back home already waited for them. Twenty filthy, sweaty, and exhausted hotshots exited the woods, their faces barely discernible, but smiles spreading for a job well done.

Everyone shed their packs, helmets, gear and dropped onto the nearest seat, dozing off the moment the engine revved up. Jules was the last to enter the truck, the fatigue claiming her, as she slipped into a half-sleep state where she was no longer surrounded by burning trees and fiery flames, but Tyler’s strong arms.