Because he had neglected to draw his blackout curtains the previous evening, Cody Bradford woke with the sun at the ungodly hour of three-thirty in the morning. Good morning, Alaska, he thought as he rubbed his eyes and looked at the rough-hewn ceiling beam above his head. The windows of his cabin were open to allow a cool breeze, and he lay diagonally on top of his sheets wearing boxer shorts and nothing else. He wondered if he should try to get more sleep before his firefighting shift started at seven.

He decided against it. Living on a ten-acre homestead on the edge of the Nanook Valley just outside the small town of Golden Falls, Alaska, there was always work to be done. Wood to be chopped. Outbuildings to be repaired. Engines to be maintained. His current project entailed hauling rocks as he slowly built a winding path from his driveway to his front door, spreading gravel to cut the mud that plagued every home in Alaska.

He sat up and stretched. As his feet hit the floor, his two dogs came awake, too. In summer they slept on the floor, but when it started to get cold in September, they piled onto the bed with Cody. His buddies at the fire station always joked it was a good thing he was single, because there wouldn’t be room for a woman in his bed.

“Morning, Timber.” Cody scratched the ears of his Malamute-German Shepherd mix. “And yes, you too, Diamond,” he greeted his good-natured Bernese Mountain Dog, who always managed to nose her way in whenever he gave attention to Timber. “You wanna go out?”

They did, of course—when did they not? Cody watched his eager dogs take their first romp around the property, doing their morning patrol of the woods around the cabin. Bradford Homestead was his own little piece of forest paradise, paid for in cash from the ample savings he’d accrued while working some years back as an ice trucker, a dangerous job which had nearly cost him his life on more than one occasion.

Bradford Homestead bordered the wilderness without a neighbor in sight, which was just how the twenty-eight-year-old firefighter liked it. He walked outside into the cool July air to the short row of native shrubs he’d planted and picked a handful of blueberries from one of the hardy bushes. He popped them into his mouth and relished the explosion of flavor. Living off the land, he thought. That was just right by him.

Back inside, he lit the propane stove, cranked the hand pump beneath the sink, and started water boiling for his coffee. He worked inside for a bit, preparing the two-room cabin for his forty-eight hour absence while he was on shift: made the bed, closed the windows, tidied up.

From the refrigerator he pulled out a large slab of moose meat, which had been thawing over the last few days, and packed it in a cooler with ice. It was his turn to cook that day at the station, and this was the last of the moose from the previous year’s hunt. If Cody was famous for anything at the station, it was his moose stew. That, and his reclusive, nearly off-grid ways. He enjoyed being alone, out of cell phone, TV, and internet range. When it got too quiet for him, he turned to his ham radio.

Next, Cody went out to the quarter-acre fenced dog run in the back of the cabin. It contained an insulated shelter for the dogs, along with food and water for the duration of his time at work. He made sure their five-gallon water bottle was full and their self-feeding food bowl was working. Cody had a knack for woodworking and had devised a lock mechanism where the dogs could push with their snouts to dispense food, but it was otherwise sealed and bear-proof. He hated the thought of his dogs getting into a scuffle with a bear.

When it was time, he put them in the run, locked up the cabin, and let the diesel engine of his Dodge Ram warm up for a few minutes. Once he started driving, it took ten minutes before his phone could pick up the 4G signal from Golden Falls. When it started beeping with notifications from his four days of solitude, Cody sighed. Back to civilization.

Golden Falls Fire and Rescue Department had several stations throughout the city. Cody was a firefighter on the engine out of Station One in the heart of downtown. With a bustling tourist season in the summer and ten thousand students at Alaska State University the rest of the year, Station One was one of the busiest in the state, running at least a dozen calls every day.

He was the first on his shift to arrive, as usual. He parked the Ram next to another of its kind—almost every firefighter he knew drove a diesel pickup truck. With the cooler of moose meat in one hand and his small personal duffel bag in the other, he nodded a greeting to a couple of the guys from the previous shift who were signing off equipment in the big bay that held both the engine and the ladder trucks.

“Hey, man,” one of the guys said. “Here for your weekly shower?”

“I guess so.” Cody pretended to smell himself. “Gotta maintain professional standards.”

Since he didn’t have indoor plumbing at the cabin, Cody showered and shaved at the station before his shifts began. On his days off during the summer, he relied on his outdoor camp-style shower, but used the hot showers at the station whenever he was there.

By the time he finished with his shower and shave, the rest of the Engine One and Ladder One crews had arrived, and the eight men gathered in the kitchen for family time. Some sat at the large table, while others stood or leaned against the counter. As Cody got a cup of coffee and exchanged greetings with the guys, he re-discovered, always to his slight surprise, how happy he was to be there amongst the others, men he liked and respected. He’d grown up in a town with a population of just nine people, which included his family of three, so Cody was used to spending the majority of his time alone. Ice trucking had been a solitary lifestyle as well, but as a firefighter he’d come to cherish his coworkers’ conversation and camaraderie—although after four days alone, talking only to the dogs, it typically took some time for his reserved demeanor to thaw.

Cody’s best friend at the station was engineer Sean Kelly, who drove the big Engine One fire truck. When Cody walked up to him, Sean clapped him on the back.

“How was your four-day?” Sean asked. “Get any action?”

As if. Cody laughed. Sean knew all about Cody’s massive dry spell where women were concerned. It had been more than a year since his last relationship with a sweet dental hygienist, a long-term casual affair that ended when she took a job in Juneau to be closer to family.

“Would you believe me if I said I did?”

“Dude, you should come down with me to Anchorage next time I visit my folks. We could hit the bars and mingle with the ladies.”

“Is that what you did?” Cody asked.

Sean nodded. “I got five phone numbers and they sought me out. Just tell ’em you’re a firefighter.”

“The ladies love firefighters,” Cody agreed. That, and Sean was naturally a sociable guy.

“Perks of the job,” Sean said, and they clinked coffee mugs. “Anyway, I’m going down again in a couple weeks. You should come.”

“We’ll see,” Cody said, knowing he’d have to think up an excuse for when Sean brought it up again. The truth was, picking up women in bars wasn’t his thing. The music and noise and constant pressure of making small talk always wore him out. Plus, despite his age of twenty-eight, and despite being told by the few former girlfriends he’d had that women most assuredly found his rugged looks and true-blue eyes attractive, he felt shy around women. Their very femininity was foreign to him, and he never quite grasped when a woman was flirting with him. Growing up in Bettles, there had only been one girl around his age. Last he’d heard, she’d moved to San Francisco and come out as a lesbian—which made a lot of sense in retrospect.

Josh Barnes of the Ladder One crew and another of Cody’s good friends, came up between them and put an arm around each of their shoulders, interjecting himself into their conversation as he so often did.

“You’re cooking today, right?” he said to Cody, who nodded. “Please tell me you’re making moose stew.”

“I’m making moose stew.” Cody grinned as the guys cheered their approval. “Just need to hit the store this morning for the veggies.”

“Bring it in, guys. We’ve got a busy day today.”

It was Jack Barnes talking. He was the Engine One captain and Josh’s older brother by six years.

“Not too busy for moose stew,” Josh said, his tone slightly challenging. There was some never-talked-about bad blood between the two brothers, right alongside obvious mutual affection. Everyone agreed it was a good thing that although at the same station and on the same shift, the Barnes brothers were on separate crews.

“The moose stew will happen,” Jack assured them. “Moose stew is priority number one.”

“Damn straight,” Sean said, a sentiment echoed by the others.

“What’s so busy about today?” Cody asked.

“We have a city-arranged ride-along,” Jack said.

“Shit,” Cody groaned. Now they’d have to be on their best behavior. No foul language. No roughhousing. “Who?”

“A reporter.”

“Double shit.” Cody rolled his eyes. Ride-alongs were fine if it was someone’s wife or girlfriend or buddy who wanted to test for the fire department, but a city PR effort was not Cody’s idea of a fun time. Naturally reticent, he especially wasn’t keen on being asked a million questions about his job. Or life outside the job. Or anything.

“A female reporter,” Jack clarified, looking at Cody with a gleam in his eye.

“Triple shit,” Cody said.

The guys laughed, and after a moment Cody laughed with them.

“Ready for quadruple shit?” Jack said. “You’re going to be her escort for the day, Cody. You’re going to cater to her every need.”

“Oh, hell no.” Cody pointed to the cooler of moose meat on the kitchen counter. “Remember, I’m on stew duty.”

“I’m confident you can manage both a woman and your stew,” Jack said.

“Highly doubtful,” Josh joked. “How about this—assign the reporter to me and leave Cody to work his magic with the stew.”

“That’s not going to happen,” said Tom Steele from the table—he was the Ladder One captain and Josh’s direct boss. The comment was good-natured, but Tom’s eyes were tight.

“Fine.” Josh backed off right away. At the moment, he was dating Tom’s younger sister, Shannon, and Tom was none too happy about it. Josh was known to be a heartbreaker, and Tom was protective of his sister, even though it was clear to all who knew her that Shannon Steele could take care of herself. “Who’s the reporter, anyway?”

“Cassie Holt,” Jack said. “She’s the new anchor at KFLS Channel Eight, and her cameraman will be joining her for part of the day. I expect you all to make her feel welcome.” He looked at each member of his crew, but it was a perfunctory glance. His men were professionals and acted as such, although only when absolutely necessary. “Moving on …”

Sean elbowed Cody and then leaned toward him. “Cassie Holt’s a looker, my friend. The captain just did you a solid.”

But Cody didn’t see it that way. In fact, the very idea of having to entertain an inquisitive, chatty female reporter—hot or not—made him yearn for the solitude of Bradford Homestead and two good dogs.