Read Online Flaming Desire - Part 2 (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) by Helen Grey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Helen Grey
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over my shoulder, glancing at my watch as I quickly headed for my Jeep. I was doing okay in regard to time, but nevertheless I was anxious about missing the flight. If the fire got much worse, the authorities might even close more airports or divert flights and we would miss the link up that would take us as close to the base operations of the fire as possible without untold delays.
Thank goodness the Santa Fe Airport was small and I was familiar with the layout. I pulled up into an empty space near the front of the airport terminal and immediately recognized Matt’s truck. His tailgate was down and he was, at that very moment, lifting his duffel bag out of the back. His bicep muscles bulged under his T-shirt sleeve. I felt a surge of heat race through me, niggling at my nipples. I tried to pull my mind from the sex and concentrated on his actions.
Like me, he had slung a backpack over his shoulder. He wore a pair of camouflage style military trousers and a dark blue T-shirt with a gold Hotshot crew emblem emblazoned on the back. It was different than mine, but other than that, we pretty much wore the same type of clothing. Durable. Utilitarian.
I honked my horn and pulled into the parking space, then quickly turned off the engine and climbed out of my Jeep. Matt headed over to my vehicle, put his duffel bag down on the asphalt and reached for the back door as I clicked my remote.
“How are we doing on time?” I asked, slamming my car door and stepping to the back of my car. My heart was racing now, and I could tell I was near to shaking from the adrenaline of heading out. I quickly reached for the duffel bag that I kept folded up and tucked between some of my gear and the side of the Jeep.
“We're doing okay,” he said. “A couple of guys drove up from Albuquerque and they already went inside to check-in. I told them we'd be in shortly.”
I began to pack as much gear as I could cram into my duffel, keeping in mind that I had to carry it. I was forced to leave some of it behind. Matt didn't have any room left in his duffel, and I wasn't about to ask him to stow some of my gear in his anyway. What I didn't bring with me, I was sure would be supplied.
In a matter of minutes, I had stuffed everything I could into my duffel and then closed and locked my Jeep. I slipped the keys into a side pocket of my backpack. Matt bent down to grab his duffel and then reached for mine as well.
“I've got it Matt, thank you,” I said. While I appreciated the gesture, I had to carry my own gear. Nothing would raise eyebrows faster than me walking into the airport, or anywhere for that matter, as a Hotshot crew member having someone else carry my gear. I knew my duffel would be heavy, but bending my legs and taking a deep breath, I wrapped the straps around my forearm, tucked my arm upward, tightened my butt cheeks and then exhaling, stood upright. I situated my balance between the backpack slung over one shoulder and the duffel bag over the other. Between the two of them, I figured everything weighed just over fifty pounds.
It had been a while since I'd been called out on a wildfire, but at this moment, I was glad that I had kept up with my workouts, my running on the treadmill, and my strength training. If there was one thing that a Hotshot crew demanded of its firefighters, it was stamina, strength, and endurance. I had no intention of letting anyone down, especially Matt or other members of the crew.
We quickly entered the airport, identified ourselves, and were quickly guided through check-in after declaring the type of equipment in our bags. The airport had been alerted to our presence, and because stories of the wildfire had made national news, the TSA and staff at the airport were well aware of our presence. Matt and I still had to go through the personal x-ray machine thing, but I didn't mind. Everyone at the airport, including passengers, were courteous, allowed us to go ahead of them, and we were whisked through
Thank goodness the Santa Fe Airport was small and I was familiar with the layout. I pulled up into an empty space near the front of the airport terminal and immediately recognized Matt’s truck. His tailgate was down and he was, at that very moment, lifting his duffel bag out of the back. His bicep muscles bulged under his T-shirt sleeve. I felt a surge of heat race through me, niggling at my nipples. I tried to pull my mind from the sex and concentrated on his actions.
Like me, he had slung a backpack over his shoulder. He wore a pair of camouflage style military trousers and a dark blue T-shirt with a gold Hotshot crew emblem emblazoned on the back. It was different than mine, but other than that, we pretty much wore the same type of clothing. Durable. Utilitarian.
I honked my horn and pulled into the parking space, then quickly turned off the engine and climbed out of my Jeep. Matt headed over to my vehicle, put his duffel bag down on the asphalt and reached for the back door as I clicked my remote.
“How are we doing on time?” I asked, slamming my car door and stepping to the back of my car. My heart was racing now, and I could tell I was near to shaking from the adrenaline of heading out. I quickly reached for the duffel bag that I kept folded up and tucked between some of my gear and the side of the Jeep.
“We're doing okay,” he said. “A couple of guys drove up from Albuquerque and they already went inside to check-in. I told them we'd be in shortly.”
I began to pack as much gear as I could cram into my duffel, keeping in mind that I had to carry it. I was forced to leave some of it behind. Matt didn't have any room left in his duffel, and I wasn't about to ask him to stow some of my gear in his anyway. What I didn't bring with me, I was sure would be supplied.
In a matter of minutes, I had stuffed everything I could into my duffel and then closed and locked my Jeep. I slipped the keys into a side pocket of my backpack. Matt bent down to grab his duffel and then reached for mine as well.
“I've got it Matt, thank you,” I said. While I appreciated the gesture, I had to carry my own gear. Nothing would raise eyebrows faster than me walking into the airport, or anywhere for that matter, as a Hotshot crew member having someone else carry my gear. I knew my duffel would be heavy, but bending my legs and taking a deep breath, I wrapped the straps around my forearm, tucked my arm upward, tightened my butt cheeks and then exhaling, stood upright. I situated my balance between the backpack slung over one shoulder and the duffel bag over the other. Between the two of them, I figured everything weighed just over fifty pounds.
It had been a while since I'd been called out on a wildfire, but at this moment, I was glad that I had kept up with my workouts, my running on the treadmill, and my strength training. If there was one thing that a Hotshot crew demanded of its firefighters, it was stamina, strength, and endurance. I had no intention of letting anyone down, especially Matt or other members of the crew.
We quickly entered the airport, identified ourselves, and were quickly guided through check-in after declaring the type of equipment in our bags. The airport had been alerted to our presence, and because stories of the wildfire had made national news, the TSA and staff at the airport were well aware of our presence. Matt and I still had to go through the personal x-ray machine thing, but I didn't mind. Everyone at the airport, including passengers, were courteous, allowed us to go ahead of them, and we were whisked through
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