Page 3 of Redwood Blaze
As soon as I round the corner, I smell them before I see them.
Damn.
Her lemon bars. They’re like sunshine in the midst of hell.
The tangy, tart smell.
The crispy cookie-like crust.
The creaminess of the filling.
I moan like a man being tortured and two of the guys having their pre-dinner snack raise a brow at me.
“Everything okay over there, Phoenix?” Drake, a newbie firefighter, asks from the corner behind me. I didn’t see him or the protein bar in his hand when I walked in. He’ll learn soon enough what these bars mean to all of us.
“Lemon bars,” is all I can squeak out.
The ones who have been here for two years both raise one in salute. They know. Sometimes you need the protein and sometimes you need the sugar.
And right now, I crave her sweet sugar like a child yearning for the first taste of a summer popsicle.
Decadence.
Sentimental.
Pure enjoyment.
Millie, why do you torture me in so many ways?
TWO
MILLIE
I hearhim from down the hallway in my BTP Hotshots office and I chuckle with a shake of my head.
I’ll never admit that I make them to see his goofy-boyish smile and green eyes widen. He could be a model on the cover of an Irish GQ, but that’s not his calling.
It’s like all of us. There’s something rooted deep in us. Maybe it’s the mountain— the majesty and grandeur. Maybe it’s the trees— sacred and towering like green flags of nature. And maybe it’s the people— knowing that we’re protecting one of earth’s most precious resources. We’re not sappy about it. Hell, to some it’s just a job, like many others here on this blue and green marble, but to most of us, this job is about more than just stopping a fire.
And I know it’s that way for me and I know it’s that way for Callum. I mean, Rusty. I think the moniker has to do with his ginger hair, but I’ve never asked him.
His head peeks around the corner of my office and he slowly bites into a bar. I cut them extra big. The guys can deal with the sugar rush.
“Boss, damn, this might be your best batch.”
The way he savors the bite fills a little place in me. I’m not a baker and those bars are really the only sweet-treat that I can make, but thankfully, they’re his favorite and I know it. I know it and I pander to it because I like seeing him happy.
Maybe because I’m not always happy.
“How are the reports?” he asks.
“Got some smoke over on peak six, but the fire watcher thinks it’s someone renting a cabin and starting up the fireplace. He’s keeping an eye on it. And then on?—”
“Peak three,” we say together and I nod.
It’s always peak three. There’s always one peak that has more issues than others. And this one is mainly because of hikers and campers. It’s the most accessible of the peaks for those activities, so it’s more active when it comes to smoke reports and fires in general.
“Seems some campers got a little bonfire happy last night. Thankfully the rangers caught it in time and put it out, but they said the campers moved on and they wouldn’t put it past them to do another stupid move tonight.” I cringe. “I don’t mean stupid.”
