Chapter 1

Driving from Bend to the smokejumper base in Redmond, Oregon, was like traveling back in
time. It only took a half an hour, but the trip set Meg Buchanan back ten years.
As she pulled into the parking lot of Redmond Air Center, the tires of her Forerunner
crunching on the dirt and gravel drive, she repeated the pep talk she’d been giving herself the
entire ride.
She had the job. She was officially an assistant trainer and safety instructor for this year’s
Redmond smokejumper rookie training.
She wasn’t a firefighter, but she was a physician’s assistant with lots of practical medical
knowledge. She was qualified. More importantly, she was a seasoned triathlete. She was in tiptop
shape, and she definitely could run some rookies through their paces. Add her willingness to do
the job for barely any money and her uncle’s glowing recommendation, and she’d been
approved.
That was her mantra. She could do this. She had the skills. She’d been approved.
She refused to accept that she’d been given this job because of her last name.
Sure, Will, her oldest brother, was an active Redmond smokejumper, and Uncle Joe was the
base manager. Her middle brother, Hunter, would be in this year’s rookie class. Together, they
made a pretty impressive Buchanan family legacy at Redmond.
But, if she’d received preferential treatment, it was because her father’s name—Jason
Buchanan—rested on the memorial wall at the base, along with the other firefighters who’d
given their lives in sacrifice to this job.
After shifting the truck into park, Meg dropped her hands into her lap and abandoned that train
of thought. No use tempting the universe by spilling doubt and negative energy all over it. She
had the experience, and she was going to give this job everything she had.
This was her chance.
She’d never been able to become a firefighter like her brothers. After hours of counseling, she
couldn’t overcome her paralyzing fear of fire. But, this? She could do this. These rookies were in
for the training of their lives.
And she’d finally feel like she was honoring her birthright.
With a deep breath, she checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. She’d pulled her red hair
into a low ponytail and applied light makeup. Dressed in tan slacks and a pale pink blouse, she
looked more like she was seeing patients than reporting for a physical trainer position. She was
more comfortable, though, professionally dressed, put together.
If things were orderly on the outside, the inside would follow. She’d learned that lesson years
ago, after her father’s death. Her mother had cried, and their home fell to pieces. When people
showed up with food and condolences, the disaster in the house amplified how broken they were.
Dishes in the sink, overflowing laundry baskets. Sleep eluded Meg those first nights, so she

washed dishes, did laundry, and dusted until her body gave out. The next day, she’d cooked to
fill the silence. The days stretched on, and no one ate unless they were reminded.
Eventually, though, the movements of normalcy made her feel more normal.
Fake it ‘til you make it, her mom had joked. She’d never taken that advice, but it had worked
for Meg. Pretend until the lie matched reality.
She exhaled slowly, pursing her lips. With shaking fingers, she smoothed her perfectly tidy
hair once more, nodding at her reflection. She had this.
Snagging her wallet and phone off the passenger seat, she tossed them into her well-worn gym
bag and zipped it up. Slinging it over her shoulder, she gripped the straps to her chest like a
shield and opened the truck door.
Gravel bit into her ballet flats, but she ignored the discomfort. Around her, the parking lot was
full of pickup trucks and Jeeps, a few larger SUVs and late-model sedans, and even an Econovan
thrown in for good measure. The van had curtains. She wouldn’t be surprised if its owner lived
out of it.
There were a few guys unloading their cars, yanking duffel bags and equipment from trunks.
Most of them were in their twenties and thirties. All of them were in amazing shape. The
uniform seemed to be a mix of camo, Under Armor, and facial hair. A couple of the men paused
to watch her walk by.
Maybe she should have put on her running clothes, some track pants. She looked as out of
place in her business clothes as a peacock at a rhino tea party.
Her eyes straight forward, she hiked her bag higher on her shoulder and picked up her pace. As
she approached the door, her uncle stepped out.
“Meggy.” His smile, buried under a few days of beard growth, was as warm as always. Her
shoulders relaxed in response. “You’re early.”
She stepped into his open arms. Uncle Joe gave the best hugs. “They pulled back on my hours
last week in preparation for my time here. I finished earlier than expected today.”
He leaned out of their embrace, scowling at her. “You’re sure this won’t affect your position
with Dr. Colman, right? They’ll let you return when training is over?”
She grinned at him. “I told you. Dr. Colman is happy that I’m helping. She’s fine.” It had
taken a little sweet talking, playing up how good of a community outreach opportunity this was
and promising to pick up shifts on the weekends while she was at the air center. Patrice Colman
recognized a good deal when she saw it. She’d wanted to start opening on Saturdays for months,
so she hadn’t passed up this opportunity. But, Meg wasn’t about to tell Uncle Joe that.
He patted her shoulder. “That’s good, then. I’m not going to answer to your mom if this
impacts your career.”
Meg stiffened. “I’m twenty-five, Uncle Joe. I manage myself.” Besides, they both knew her
mother hadn’t managed much of anything in years.
Joe nodded. “Right. Well, your brothers should be here soon. Do you want me to show you
around?”
She laughed. “It’s been a while, but I think I know where I’m going.” She and her brothers had
visited her father here often. Years ago, her mother would bring the smokejumpers cookies,
muffins, whatever. She used to love to bake, and it gave her an excuse to see her husband. These
days, the only time her mother’s oven heated was for the Sunday dinners Meg cooked for them.
Meg scanned the exterior of the air center. “Place hasn’t changed.” Ten years later, but the air
center looked the same. Behind the hangar, the airfield stretched across the open field. The

Cascade Mountains filled the horizon. Here, without the multi-story buildings in Bend, the peaks
were in full, majestic view.
“Why ruin a good thing?” He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Come on.
Let’s get you settled.”
As he guided her to the door, the rumble of an engine made her pause.
Either the Jeep that turned into the parking lot needed a new muffler or its owner wanted
everyone to hear him coming. As it parked, everyone in the lot had stopped to look. Which
meant this truck wasn’t a regular fixture at the air center’s lot.
She sniffed. Apparently, the diva of this year’s class had arrived.
The Jeep’s engine died, and its doors swung open. Like the other men in the lot, the one who
jumped down from the passenger side was in excellent shape. He was probably six-two or so,
and his T-shirt did nothing to hide the cords of muscle on his wide shoulders. But, it wasn’t the
passenger that snagged her attention.
The driver slammed his door and strode to the back liftgate. She didn’t see his face, only the
back of him, but his gait was familiar, with more swagger than his passenger. He was as tall as
the other man, and just as broad-shouldered and slim-hipped. The tilt of his head as he tossed a
few bags onto the ground, the set of his shoulders as he closed the back of the Jeep, though…if
returning to the Redmond base was a blast from the past, this man was a punch to the gut.
“Lance.”
She didn’t realize she said his name out loud until Joe grunted. “Yes. Lance Roberts.”
Meg hadn’t needed his confirmation. She’d know Lance anywhere. After ten years, her body
hadn’t forgotten watching him, wishing he was hers, with the added misfortune of embodying
the “little sister in love with brother’s best friend” cliché.
Hard to forget embarrassment like that.
Lance the boy had been the stuff of her girlhood dreams, and more than a few other girls’
dreams, too. As she watched, he grabbed his bags off the ground and the muscles of his forearms
tightened. Heat stretched up her spine, warming her stomach.
Lance the man probably occupied more than a few women’s dreams now as well.
Meg spun sideways, not wanting to be caught staring at him. “What’s he doing here?” she
whispered. She smoothed the end of her ponytail, and then tugged at her blouse, straightening
imaginary wrinkles.
Catching herself, she squeezed her fingers together in front of her, forcing them still.
“Now, Meggy. I need you to be open-minded. And, I need your help with your brothers…”
Joe’s head dropped, and he rubbed the back of his head.
“Joe, what have you done?” There were only so many reasons that Lance would be here, at the
air center, right now…
“I offered Lance a job, if he makes it through training.” His half grin looked pained. “He’ll be
in this year’s rookie training class.”

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