“Mmmhmm.” Chet put down his coffee.
“I’d like to be an incident commander.” Pete turned and sat on the sill, his arms akimbo. “Do you think Sam would hire me?”
Chet considered him a moment, then reached over and picked up the newspaper folded on his desk. “You’re certainly on your way to proving yourself.”
Pete took the paper, unfolded it.
And there he was, just below the fold, a picture of him in all his bear-tousled glory, ripped shirt, the scrub on his chin, his long hair down and scraggly. He was looking away from the camera as if contemplating his next big save.
If he remembered the moment correctly, he’d glanced at Jess right about then, seen her edging toward the door and wanted to catch her for that late-night pizza run.
“Nice write-up. Makes us look good—and good timing too,” Chet said.
Pete handed the paper back to Chet without reading it. “Hopefully Tallie didn’t embellish too much.”
“Well, I think she’s taken a shine to you—there is a smidgen of a heroic slant to the piece. But pretty much all true.”
“Yeah, well, what can I say?” He wasn’t sure why those words emerged—habit, maybe.
Chet rolled his eyes.
Pete turned away, and through the window he spied Ben coming out of the barn, a football in his grip. A moment later, Audrey came running out, Jubal barking at her heels.
Even from here, he could make out the words from Ben. Go long, with the wave of his hands. I’ll catch it, from the way Audrey raised her arm.
A beautiful spiral, and Pete laughed when Jubal left the ground, arching for it.
Great defensive play by the chocolate lab.
“Everybody deserves a shot at a second chance,” Chet said quietly, and when Pete glanced at him, Chet too was watching the scene.
Then his gaze fell on Pete. “I know it feels good to be liked. But the question is, are you interested in the IC position for the limelight? To be the hero?”
Pete frowned. “Of course not.” He didn’t know why Chet’s words irked him.
“Good. Could you bring this out to Kacey?” Chet handed him a clipboard. “I need a list of all the improvements and supplies she needs to procure this year.”
Pete leaned up, took the clipboard. Headed outside.
He didn’t have to be the hero.
In the yard, he nearly intercepted another pass from Ben to Audrey, who bumped him out of the way for the catch. “Good nab.”
She giggled, and he winked at her.
He found Kacey in the barn and handed off the clipboard.
Gage had supplies from their packs spread out on the counter in the back room and was methodically repacking the overnight packs.
Binoculars, a folding saw, fire starter, webbing, cookstove, one-man tent, chemical light sticks, trail tape, along with maps, first aid kit, signal mirror, space blanket, MREs.
“Need help?”
Gage pointed to a pack. Pete began to fill it.
“By the way, nice write-up, Pete,” Gage said, looking over at him. “You get all the love. It’s just not fair.”
“The reporter has a mad crush on me, so what can you do?”
He wondered why those words chose to come out of his mouth.
“I think you need to call her, tell her ‘thank you’ for making you look like a SAR god. You’ll have women lining up outside the barn. Maybe we should set up a kissing booth, make some money.”
Pete laughed, but Gage’s words burned a little in his chest.
A little shorter than Pete, Gage had honed his body and reputation on the slopes as an all-terrain snowboarder and champion freerider. Pete couldn’t imagine the steel nerves and concentration it took to ride down a powdery, jagged-edged mountain face, do a flip or two off a fifty-foot cliff, land in a pillow of white fluff, and make it look good. Not only that, but Gage could also work the half-pipe—had landed a McTwist on national television. Gage Watson had lived in the world of sponsors, posters and interviews, winning two world freeriding championships before heading home for a different life.
Pete knew a few of the details; an accident that cost Gage his life savings and his reputation. But he hadn’t put all the pieces together and more, appreciated Gage’s need for privacy. They all deserved to keep a few secrets, nurse their wounds in private.
Pete looked at the checklist, the order of packing, and put the heavier items in first. “So, what if—hypothetically—you had a friend who you liked, but you weren’t sure she liked you back. What would you do? Go for it?”
Gage tightened the top cord on the pack. “Well, how good of a friend? And has she already put you in the friend zone? Because if you’re there, pal, you’re stuck. If you try to move out of that zone and she gives you the stiff arm, there’s no going back.”