Page 3 of The Smokejumper’s Lady (Praise Me Like Fire #1)

Clea

I’ve always thought of myself as someone who keeps her cool under pressure. I know how to separate business from pleasure and I never let my emotions cloud my judgment while on duty.

But this time…

I’m struggling to hang on to the control I always have so tightly wound around me. And it has nothing to do with the fire burning around me and everything to do with the handsome smoke jumper who came to the rescue.

He rattles me more than I’m willing to admit.

Ryan Lewis.

Even his name sounds like a punch of pine smoke and testosterone.

He moves like a soldier, purposeful and precise.

Axe in one hand, shovel strapped to his back, gear molded to his frame like he was carved straight out of the Rockies.

He’s tall—at least six-three—with that lean, muscular build that says he doesn’t just lift weights for aesthetics.

Everything about him screams rough and ready.

Calloused hands. Scruffy jaw. That ridiculous jawline that could probably slice open a fire shelter.

And the eyes. God, those eyes…

Blue, but not like a sky on a clear day. More like glacial melt…sharp, cold, and piercing. Those eyes found mine the moment he stepped into the cave, and something low in my stomach flipped. I might’ve actually swayed. That’s how stupid hot he is.

But I’m a professional. And we’re literally in a wildfire evacuation. Still, it’s hard to focus when every time I glance his way, my brain short-circuits like a busted radio.

It’s strange that he has such an effect on me when I literally met him seconds ago. I barely know him, yet my head is filled with thoughts of him, my eyes glued to his big, strong back.

He clears a path ahead of us like it’s nothing. One strong swing of his axe, and a smoldering branch crashes out of our way. He doesn’t even flinch. Just keeps moving, cutting through the smoky underbrush, making sure we’re following close behind.

I glance back at Maddie. She’s griping her dad’s hand tightly, but she’s stopped crying. Probably because the human mountain in front of us radiates so much I’ve-got-you energy it’s contagious.

“Stay tight,” he says without looking back, his voice gravelly and calm. “Wind’s picking up. We’ve got about a quarter mile to the evac point.”

“Copy that,” I mutter before I can stop myself.

He glances back. And yep—there’s that look again. Like he’s taking me in from head to toe, his staggering blue eyes drinking me in, in a way that makes my stomach tighten into knots.

I square my shoulders and keep walking. This is not the time to fantasize about the strong line of a man’s forearms. Or what he might look like without the gear. Or what it would feel like to run my palms over his sculpted muscles and—

Focus, Clea.

I clear my throat, resisting the urge to press my palm over my burning cheeks. I can’t believe I’m thinking such things at a time like this. My brain must be malfunctioning due to the excess heat.

Yup! That’s it!

We push forward, the fire crackling ominously behind us, smoke getting thicker.

I try to stay focused on the terrain, but it’s hard when every few seconds, Ryan Lewis is doing something absurdly competent.

Like digging a quick trench to slow the fire’s edge.

Or redirecting us with just a jerk of his chin when a gust of flame shifts direction.

By the time we reach the clearing, I’m dripping sweat, breathing hard, and somehow even more rattled.

The helicopter is waiting for us, blades chopping the air, dust flying everywhere, but the angry fire is catching up fast. Ryan helps the Reynolds’s load in first. Maddie clings to her mom as they’re ushered into the cabin by another jumper.

Mrs. Reynolds is practically weeping from relief while Mr. Reynolds looks like he regrets the whole adventure.

Suddenly, a crack like a gunshot rings out behind us.

“MOVE!” Ryan yells at me.

A massive pine splinters and drops like a titan falling. We duck instinctively, but it lands just feet from the chopper, flames licking the edges.

The pilot shouts over the comms. “We’ve got thirty seconds max! This is getting too hot!”

Ryan turns toward me. “Get on.”

“Not without you!” I shout.

The ground is shifting, and the flames are rearing toward us like angry beasts. For a moment, I think Ryan wants to stay and fight the flames, but that’s crazy—surely it’s way too dangerous here now.

The crew chief yells something at Ryan I can’t make out, but I get the gist when Ryan boosts me up into the helicopter as if I weigh nothing at all, and then climbs in beside me, slamming the door shut.

Then we lift.

For one breathless second, I think we’re in the clear. But then there’s a clang, a jolt, and the chopper dips hard to the left.

“Hang on!” the pilot calls out.

Ryan braces me instinctively, one arm banded around my waist. It’s an automatic move but it feels…personal. His grip is solid. Unyielding. Safe.

“Mechanical issue,” the copilot yells. “Secondary latch caught. We’ll have to bring it down manually a few clicks out—there’s a flat spot east, near the ridge.”

“Can we make it?” I ask.

The pilot hesitates. “With a little luck and some good teamwork.”

Which translates to “not guaranteed.”

The cabin rocks again. I look at Ryan. “Okay, mountain man. Got any genius ideas?”

He stares at me strangely for a second, then his mouth twitches at the corner. “Try not to pass out. Or throw up.”

“Wow. So helpful.” I roll my eyes at him.

“We’re gonna have to get that latch free. From outside.”

My blood runs cold. “Outside? As in, hanging off a helicopter mid-flight?!”

Ryan smirks. “Just the skids. I’ll climb out, you hold the base. I’ve done it before.”

“Of course you have,” I mutter, my eyes growing wide. “Do you also wrestle bears for fun?”

“Only in the off-season,” he says seriously.

A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. It’s nervous, borderline hysterical, but it breaks the tension.

He grins. A full-blown smile. And damn it, it’s not fair how attractive he looks even while the world is metaphorically—and literally—burning around us.

We lock eyes, and for a moment, the roar of the rotors and the threat of death fade into a strange little bubble. My heart is beating fast. Too fast.

“I’ll need you to spot me,” he says, his expression turning serious.

Still sexy. Damn sexy.

I nod. “Let’s do it.”

We work in tandem. He’s out on the skid in seconds, muscled and sure-footed even with the chopper jolting. I keep one hand on his harness and guide him. It’s dicey, the wind’s rough, but we manage to get the latch free just as the pilot yells, “We’re clear!”

The chopper levels out.

Ryan climbs back in, sweat-soaked and breathing hard. “Not bad, trail guide.”

“You’re welcome, axe guy.”

He laughs—really laughs this time—and I can feel most of the tension leave my body.

“We’re gonna land safe,” Ryan calls to the Reynolds family. “Flat ridge just ahead.”

Mrs. Reynolds lets out a laughing sob. Mr. Reynolds sags against his seat, suddenly looking ten years older. Maddie drops her head on her mom’s shoulder, looking about done with the whole thing.

Me?

I lean back, my heart still pounding hard from adrenaline or nerves…or maybe both.

I try not to stare at Ryan as he settles into the seat across from me, but I’m failing miserably.

I’ve faced bears, storms, and entitled tourists…but nothing has prepared me for Ryan Lewis.