Page 4 of Arsonist’s Match (Blaze and Badge #1)

Fearing more towering pines might crash across the stream, Flash slowed her strides and called to Kevin, “Look! There’s an opening to the south now. If we dash through that wooded area, we could get far enough away from the main blaze.”

They ran a few more yards, while Kevin glanced from the soaring inferno to the unburnt fuel. Then he waved, leading the way. “Here! We can find the road down here, and there’s a lake not too far if we need it.”

Pivoting, the others trailed Kevin and Flash into the unaffected wooded area.

By the time they found the road taken by the larger half of the hand crew, the airtanker soared into view, descended to swoop over the wildfire’s southwestern edge, and released its load.

A tremendous billow of steam and the hiss of sizzling logs being doused followed.

They had dodged a bullet, and, as far as Flash knew, everyone made it out alive.

That night, showered and changed into smoke-free casual wear, Flash and her crew gathered at a roadhouse in the small historic town of Kernville, California, to celebrate containing the massive wildfire.

It wasn’t out yet, and that would probably take another week of strenuous work, but Cal Fire had declared the metropolis of Bakersfield and the surrounding smaller towns safe.

“The next round’s on me!” called the smoke jumper’s captain.

Kevin grinned and reached to nab a pint from a passing server’s tray. “Cheers to the Texans!” he shouted with appreciation.

“Hear, hear!” echoed the replies.

Flash smiled, proud she’d come and contributed to the cause of this celebration, thrilled to be alive.

Adrenaline still coursed through her veins when a petite blonde with styled curls and a confident smile claimed the stool beside her.

It was clear the young woman in cutoff jean shorts and a blue, pink, and white checkered shirt barely buttoned over her perky breasts had spent time and effort perfecting her look.

Blue eyes raked over Flash with appreciative appraisal.

“So, you’re a real-life firefighter, am I right?” the woman ventured flirtatiously. Country music boomed from a jukebox somewhere, yet not loud enough to drown out laughing and cheering.

“I am,” Flash answered. Memories of dozens of similar scenarios crossed her mind, tantalizing her with the anticipation of fun, games, and a night of pleasures.

Then fell the boom of reality—they had all been fleeting and meaningless, nothing more than a way to unwind after a tense day on the job.

Now Flash had a genuine relationship with a gorgeous, sultry, tough-as-her-acrylic-nails FBI agent, and she wasn’t about to blow it for a one-night stand, no matter what this nymph had in mind .

“Thank you for rounding up that fire and saving our little town,” she beamed with a bashful glow. Her lashes blinked, and her lips parted as she gazed at Flash invitingly.

“You are quite welcome, miss. It’s my job.”

“Amy,” she answered. “I’m Amy Silverton, and you are?

” She leaned closer, rubbing a finger along the rim of Flash’s half-finished glass.

Flash had encountered enough flirtation to recognize exactly what Amy was up to, but relishing in a little admiration wouldn’t hurt.

It had been a while since she’d been approached by a fan, and, after the horrendous events of the summer, her ego could use a bit of a boost.

“Flash Cash from Houston’s finest,” she replied, angling her head toward her admirer.

“I should’ve known a long drink of water like you hailed from Texas,” Amy quipped with a grin. Flicking her fingers off Flash’s glass, she waved to the bartender. “She’ll have another on me, and I’ll take a Tequila Sunrise.”

“Coming right up, Amy.” The bartender’s response, calling the patron by name, didn’t surprise Flash. Kernville was a small town, after all.

“Now, Flash, I want to know all about Houston,” Amy said. Resting an elbow on the bar and flinging a sandaled foot over her knee, the bright young woman waited, ogling Flash with expectation.

Flash chatted about her marvelous city, its sights and attractions, its progressive mayor and inclusive community, and even the oil barons.

Then she listened to Amy praise Southern California, its beauty, and laid-back lifestyle.

Flash had barely finished her refreshed beer by the time the propositions began.

“Where are you staying?” the young woman asked. “I’ve got the cutest little cabin on the edge of town. Do you have time to drop by and see it?”

Although pleased by Amy’s attention, Flash shook her head, amusement flitting along her smile. “Thank you, really, Amy, but I’m seeing someone.”

“Back in Houston, you mean?” Like today’s fire, this chick wasn’t giving up easily.

Plopping her chin into her palm, supported by an elbow on the bar, Amy batted her lashes at Flash.

“She doesn’t have to know. You look so amazing, so strong and protective, so lean and muscular.

I really like your tattoo, and want to see if you have another one, maybe somewhere more private.

” She bit her bottom lip and wiggled her brows as invitation flashed in her azure eyes.

Flash sighed, smiled, and answered with respect in her tone. “You’re a lovely woman, and your offer is most tempting. However, even if my girlfriend never finds out, I’ll know, and I’m not about to cheat on her.”

Disappointment dimmed the shine on Amy’s face.

She sat back and shrugged. “Your loss, and you can’t blame a gal for trying.

Anyway, I do admire what you do and am truly grateful for you guys saving our town.

If you’re going to be around a while longer and change your mind …

” She lifted a hopeful glance to Flash. “You know where to find me.”

Flash figured it would take several more days before the fire was completely out, but Amy didn’t need to know. The girl seemed nice enough, but she wasn’t Athena. Nobody in the world compared to Assistant Special Agent in Charge Athena Bouvier.