Wildfire Griffin (Fire & Rescue Shifters: Wildfire Crew #1)(18)

An unpleasant jolt went through Edith’s stomach at the sight of the flickering orange glow. After the terror of the blaze earlier, even this tame, homely fire seemed suddenly unsafe. She froze in the shadows.

“It’s okay, Edith,” Rory murmured, stopping as well. “No rush. Take your time.”

She was grateful he seemed to understand the reason for her hesitation. She made herself look at the dancing flames, battling down the irrational sense of fear.

The other firefighters didn’t seem to have noticed her hovering on the edge of their circle. They were all fully occupied ripping open self-heating packets of military rations. Judging from the grumbling, Rory hadn’t been kidding about it not being gourmet cuisine.

“I’m not sure whether I should eat this or give it a decent funeral.” The white-haired paramedic—Wystan, she remembered—held up an unidentifiable brown patty. “What is this thing?”

The female firefighter prodded at her own. “I think it’s a lightly seasoned hockey puck.”

“Apparently it’s meant to be brisket,” said a huge black man, squinting at a discarded wrapper. “If this ever came out of a cow, it was from the back end. How can you eat this, Cal?”

The final firefighter—a lean, red-headed man with the brooding good looks of a movie star—didn’t pause. Alone amongst the group, he was forking up his meal in steady, regular bites. “It’s food.”

“That’s debatable.” Wystan sighed, eying his plate without enthusiasm. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing else.”

It was as good a cue as she could ask for. Edith swallowed, steeling herself.

“I have beans,” she volunteered, stepping into the light.

The large black man promptly tossed his prepackaged meal over his shoulder. He slid to his knees in front of her, arms upraised as if in supplication.

“Lo, a goddess has descended from on high to join us,” he declared. He had an melodic, lilting accent, as if his native language was something tonal like Mandarin or Cantonese. “Deliver us from this terrible, terrible food, o merciful one. Bestow upon us your blessed beans.”

Edith blinked at him.

“Yes.” Rory sighed from behind her. “That’s the expression people usually get when they meet Joe.”

“I’m afraid he’s always like this,” Wystan added. “We apologize in advance.”

“There is nothing wrong,” Joe said with dignity, getting to his feet and brushing dirt off his knees, “with injecting life with a little pizzazz.”

The female firefighter snorted. “There’s nothing little about you, Joe.”

Joe’s cocky grin widened. “That’s what all the ladies say.”

“Yes,” Edith said, staring up at the towering firefighter. The top of her head barely came to the middle of his chest. “I can see why.”

Across the fire, Wystan choked on a bite of food. Too late, Edith realized the innuendo. At least she’d been looking up rather than down.

Joe laughed, loose and easy. “I like you. And not just for your beans. Speaking of which, if you hand them over, I shall concoct for you a creation that will make you feel like angels are dancing on your tongue. May I?”

Edith found herself grinning back at him. Underneath all those flowery words was a simple directness: I like you. Her life would be a lot more straightforward if everyone just came out and spoke their feelings like that.

“Here you go,” she said, passing the firefighter the pot. “But I’m afraid they really are just plain beans.”

“Not for long.” Joe reached into his pocket, pulling out a small bundle with a flourish. “Let’s see…Tabasco, smoked paprika, a little garlic salt…”

Wystan raised his eyebrows. “You brought culinary spices to a wildfire?”

“Always be prepared,” Joe replied cheerfully, busy opening cans.

The female firefighter shook her head. “You are prepared for some weirdly specific situations.” She turned to Edith, giving her a casual wave. “I’m Blaise, by the way. And tall, red-headed, and glowering over there is Callum.”

The final firefighter made a small nod of acknowledgement, not pausing in his steady, mechanical consumption of his ration.

“Don’t take it personally,” Blaise said to Edith. “Cal’s not really one for small talk.”

In that case, they were going to get along just fine. Edith was already feeling uncomfortable, trying to keep track of so many faces and voices. She smiled nervously round at all of them, her tongue thick and awkward in her mouth.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“It’s all right, Edith. They won’t bite.” Rory sat down on a spare log, patting the space next to him. “Come take a seat.”

The log was big enough for two, but she’d be hip-to-hip with him. There was no way she could make polite conversation with the warmth of his thigh against hers.

She went to the other side of the fire instead, where Callum was sitting. The firefighter shot her a quick, sharp glance as she hesitantly approached.

“Um. Do you mind if I join you?” she asked, gesturing at the spare space beside him.

Callum considered her coolly. Most people wriggled their faces all the time in a bewildering kaleidoscope of motion, but his was as still as a mountain pond. Edith found his lack of expression rather soothing.