The fastest way to lieutenant was to take on training rookie smokejumpers in no-man’s land. Check. Take additional courses and ace the lieutenant’s exam. Check and check. Handle things in the captain’s absence and prove he was ready for a promotion.
Adam was on it.
He strolled toward the kitchen, stopping right outside the doorway. Two guys were standing at the counter making dinner, while the other three sat on the couch watching the Giants game on the plasma. Seth sat in the armchair in the corner of the room.
“It’s at least a double D–sized ding,” Will McGuire said as Adam entered the kitchen—a place he frequented more than his own. “Which means whoever distracted you was way out of your league, freshman.”
McGuire was all lean muscle, young ego, and, until Seth had come on a few months ago, the station’s resident FNG. Coincidentally, up until a few months ago Adam had been the station’s resident smart-ass—excelling in ribbing, pranks, and making a party out of twist ties, tinfoil, and downtime. But that was before Cap had told him he was up for review in a few months, before Adam learned that if he played his cards right, a promotion was a possibility.
Even with his colorful past.
“Then explain how I got her digits,” Seth said, waving a piece of binder paper like it was the Holy Grail.
“Dude, you humped bumpers with the Cal State cheerleading team’s car and you only got one girl’s digits?” McGuire asked, dumping enough spaghetti noodles into the colander to feed a small country. “What kind of victory lap is that?”
“It was the dance team,” Seth argued as if that made it all okay. “And it wasn’t a victory lap. Besides, you were the one who sent me out in the first place to get bananas.”
“Is that what she wrote her number on? Your banana?”
The other guys laughed, and Adam could tell that Seth was two verbal jabs away from a swift smack to Will’s head.
Adopting his best don’t mess with me face, Adam strolled all the way into the kitchen.
“McGuire,” Adam said, and all the men looked up. He looked back, cool and assessing. “Remember the call we took where you came across that eight-foot python?”
The smug look cleared from his face, McGuire nodded. “The one in that attic?”
“That’s the one.” Adam’s smile said it was also the one where McGuire had pissed himself, and instead of making a big deal out of it, Adam had kept his mouth shut, because he knew this job was hard. Scary as shit. And sometimes they were bound to act human and screw up. Seth had screwed up dinging the engine, severely enough that his job might be on the line, and McGuire shoving it in his face was bad form.
“Yeah, I remember it.”
“So do I,” Adam said in his best lieutenant voice. “We done here?”
That was all it took. The men straightened, McGuire zipped it and went back to making dinner, while Seth pretended to watch the game.
Adam patted FNG on the shoulder and beckoned him toward the garage. They walked to the truck in question. Not a word was said as Adam circled the engine. Not a breath was taken when he studied the bigger-than-double-Ds dent in the back fender.
“That ding is more than a damn bumper, so spill.” Adam locked gazes. “And I mean everything.”
“Everything?” Seth’s eyes went big and his ears went pink, telling Adam this was going to be a whole lot more complicated than a little fender bender with a pretty girl.
“If I wanted the crib notes I would’ve listened to them over a bowl of chili at Stan’s, not here with a bunch of giggling ladies.”
“Right.” Seth swallowed. “But I’d first like to express just how sorry I am for calling you in on your—”
“The dent, freshman.”
“McGuire sent me on a banana run. He said it was for some dessert he was making, but I know it was his way of reminding me I’m the fucking new guy. So I went, got the bananas, let it roll off my back, then I met this girl in line. A spinner with tits. Real tens too, not the purchased kind,” Seth said, as if retelling his account of coming face-to-face with the chupacabra of women. “She looked at my uniform, started chatting me up, paid for her things, then slipped me her number and left. I got in the truck and was pulling out, when she appeared in my side window and stood out the top of her friend’s sunroof.”
Adam looked at the ceiling because he knew, knew, where this was going.
“Then she lifted her top—no bra and definitely all real—and I don’t know what happened. My foot slipped off the brake. I was in reverse and boom.”
Adam ran a hand down his face. “Please tell me you didn’t hit another car.”