Rescued By Her Rival. Amalie BerlinЧитать онлайн книгу.
bouncing around in those strange green eyes he finalized his orders. “Handle the rest of the baselines. Classroom was going to be protocols, but since it looks like most of us will be in the field, Ellison’s going to do a Q&A about service, lessons learned his first couple years. Then you can all amuse yourselves for the rest of the day, but be on the field at daybreak tomorrow before the siren blasts.”
Autry still looked confused, but she nodded and had now shifted her attention to him, her expression saying things he didn’t want to hear—like she got just how little he wanted to do this. “What do you want me to do?”
All of it.
Eager to get rid of the clipboard, he passed the cursed thing over and gestured for her to follow. The sooner they got on with it, the sooner he could get it over with.
“Three crews have been called to a blaze, Treadwell wants us to continue,” he announced, straight to the point, then added, because it would help them to know the course when it became mandatory, “After that, lunch, and then a five-mile run around the woodland course.”
Autry cleared her throat, and for a second he thought it was because she was going to correct him about the run, but instead she said, “Don’t forget the classroom Q&A before the run.”
One tiny twitch of an eyebrow challenged him to argue, but she didn’t correct Treadwell’s orders—probably because she was obsessive about exercise. Couldn’t rightly fault her for it, except that she didn’t let him get away with sidestepping the exercise in public speaking.
“Q&A after lunch. Five questions. Then run.” He returned her look. In unison, her brows and shoulders popped up. She might as well have just said, Whatever.
Whatever. He got back to the task at hand, gesturing to the man Treadwell had been testing, still on the ground. “Who are you?”
“San Giovanni.”
“He only has sit-ups left,” Autry added.
He’d have been happy to let her continue on her own, but Treadwell’s opinion wasn’t going to be raised by his desire to maintain the ten-foot ring of emptiness around himself he preferred.
“How many are left after him?”
“Six.”
He nodded once for the man to continue and silently counted while the man got on with it.
* * *
Lunch came and went, and Lauren found herself back on the field with the other rookies, waiting for Ellison.
He’d said about twenty words before lunch, and most of those had been numbers, or Next. He’d been chattier two years ago.
If saying more than one word per breath could ever be considered chatty. He only barely communicated at a level higher than grunts and too-easy-to-read judgmental faces. But he had communicated more last time. His current level of terseness seemed the type usually reserved for people who’d caused offense. Which couldn’t be her.
Unless he thought she stank at everything and couldn’t believe she’d returned for a second try? Wouldn’t be the first time she’d encountered that. Or the thousandth.
Women weren’t unheard of in the service, but they weren’t abundant either. Even with her firefighting pedigree, the weight of the Autry name probably just meant people would expect her to be better. Not making it two years ago had contradicted that notion, even though she’d served her family’s station since fresh from high school and her father had known better than to turn her away lest she go to a station where he couldn’t control her. Then six years of hard-fought experience, and the arguments it had taken to get it.
She looked at her watch. Two more minutes and Ellison would be late. Probably because he didn’t want to do the Q&A.
She could imagine now how it’d go.
What was the rating on the largest fire you encountered this year?
Big.
Where do you see yourself in five years?
Here.
What’s your biggest weakness?
Talking.
When the hour struck one, and not a second before, Ellison jogged up from the food hall and onto the field. If someone’s posture could shout belligerence, his did. He held himself so erect she’d have expected his collarbone to snap with an accidental shoulder twitch. Everyone else seemed to pick up on it too. Absorbed it so well even that when he asked for questions, no one said a word for a long time, until Lauren shot her hand up. To help him out, of course. Not just to torture him. To get the ball rolling. And because she wasn’t scared of a grumpy off-season forest ranger.
“You’ve been at it two seasons. Have you had any close calls? Or, you know, back when you were a combat firefighter? That could be cool to hear about.”
He shouldn’t look so surprised, she’d only had forever to dwell on what had gone wrong last time. Marine combat firefighter? More impressive than the daughter of a local chief who only let her into the fires when she was able to outmaneuver him.
She wasn’t outmaneuvering Ellison. He held his tongue long enough that it seemed like he was translating words in his head, and then produced a miserly portion to answer only the first part, ignoring her question about his surly marine firefighting days. Another hand went up and the conversation moved on.
Where was the biggest blaze?
Did he enjoy the off-season? What did he do?
Forest ranger. Clearing brush. Controlled burns.
Nailed it!
Biggest mistake people made in the field?
Most useful advice to someone starting out?
That last one was the one that tripped him up. His mouth opened and closed no fewer than three times, and she could all but see him sorting through his options of advice to dole out. It meant nothing to her if he had so much advice to give he couldn’t decide on what was best, but when he spoke, he sounded like someone parroting words given to him at some point. Like he didn’t believe a word of what came out.
“Your team is your biggest asset. Be a team player. Watch out for your team. Follow orders.”
One look around confirmed that everyone thought this advice was basic, but he cut the questions off, having just scraped five, and sent everyone for their woodland run.
Everyone but her, the one who’d actually heard the chief’s orders. She went to fetch her things from the boot of her car, and on her way back through, stopped beside where he sat on the grass, hands behind him, propping himself up.
“Go Team, eh?”
He ignored her question again, his gaze fixed across the field to the wooden steps that led up to the rough, woodland running track where he’d sent them. “Not running?”
“You forget, I actually heard what the chief said.” She grinned down at him, not that he was looking, and put down her duffel. “I don’t see you running either.”
“I will. When the crowd thins.”
“So will I.”
“They need to do it.”
She hadn’t questioned that. Of course, they needed to do it. It was called Hell Week for a reason. Every one of them was supposed to come out in better shape than they’d gone in, and no one got better by sitting on their butt, enjoying the blistering afternoon sunshine, as he was doing. “No argument from me. I’m just getting my gear moved into a cabin first.”
“Cabin assignments haven’t been made yet.”
Contrary creature. Looking