Firestorm Read Free Page B

looks. She allowed herself a brief surge of elation.
I’m going to get it!
she thought.
It’s going to work!
    But the project was not yet in the bag. As the developmental time line and financial requirements for her project became clear, and as she got into the more intricate details of the experiment, Reyne could see several of the men’s faces grow bored, distant, day-dreamy. This she had anticipated. She was in the process of wrapping up the presentation with another story that would bring them all back around when the conference-room door burst open.
    “This is where the party is?” the man’s voice boomed. His expression was relaxed, unconcerned about the intrusion, and he wore a huge grin plastered across his face. “Sorry I’m late! Car broke down again!” He shook each man’s hand enthusiastically, greeting each man by name as she had … although she noted that he seemed to beon a first-name basis with all of them. Each was clearly pleased to see this Logan McCabe and greeted him with smiles, laughs, shaking heads, and personal words that far exceeded those for her reception.
    “Chief!” McCabe boomed as if meeting an old, lost friend. His back was to her, but she could see the general’s face, warm and receptive. “When are we going to get together again and smoke some more Cubans?” Logan cracked.
    “Oh brother,” Reyne mumbled. The forest firefighters boys’ club was always difficult for a woman to enter—even in the new millennium—but this guy was making it impossible. The tall, handsome, wavy-haired man was steadily sealing her out.
    “And who’s this beautiful lady?” he said, finally reaching Reyne. She bristled.
That’s it! Bury me forever! Of all the sexist, egotistical, unthinking things to say in a meeting …
    General Alders appeared not to have noticed. He stood and introduced them. “Reyne, let me introduce you to one fine BLM smokejumper, Logan McCabe. Logan, this is Reyne Oldre, a fire-science researcher for the Forest Service.”
    “Rain? Never heard of a name like that before! Although it’s a welcome word in a firefighter’s ear.” He smiled around the room, clearly winning each man over. He left her no room to get a word in edgewise.
    “It’s Norwegian—,” she began her grudging reply, but he was already launching another joke.
    “Did I ever tell you guys the one about Forest Service groundpounders?”
    The Forest Service officials shook their heads warily while the Bureau of Land Management brass egged Logan on. He ignored her murderous look.
    “How many Service groundpounders does it take to screw in a mess-tent light bulb?”
    Logan raised one eyebrow as he spoke, working the crowd like a seasoned veteran. “Twenty-one. One to hold the light bulb and twenty to break down the tent and rotate it.”
    The Forest Service reps shook their heads while the BLM guys groaned, slapping him on the back as if they were welcoming back a long-lost friend. Logan shrugged it off, smiling, then looked over at Reyne appraisingly. “I’m sorry. I interrupted your meeting.”
    Reyne sent daggers with her look.
You’re ruining it, you big oaf. I’ve lost momentum
.
    “Groundpounder, eh?” Logan quipped. “No wonder you didn’t appreciate my joke—”
    “Reyne Oldre is hardly your average U.S. Forest Service groundpounder, Logan,” spoke up Henry Frasier, a Bureau of Land Management boss. “You’ve spent too much time in the Southwest with the BLM. Reyne’s seen fire action from Mexico to Alaska with the Service. She made it to crew boss with the Lolo Hotshots before moving on to fire science.”
    “I’m surprised you two haven’t crossed paths yet,” Deputy Chief Alders broke in. “Reyne’s one of the best researchers we have, and McCabe has made a name for himself in smokejumping. He’s working on some new equipment you should take a look at, Reyne.”
    Ordinarily, Reyne would have appreciated the introduction and been interested in Logan’s project,