Hot Point by M. L. Buchman

and the heater on high. Though he’d still be sure to put her at the wheel. Irene hated him.
    Of course, he totally despised Jasper now. The one time Vern mentioned him, Denise had looked so sad, as if some of the light had gone out in her. He’d done his best to steer the conversation anywhere but there throughout the evening. And it had been absolutely great. It killed him that she was involved with someone else.
    The stars were out above. A few lights were on in the compound. Actually, that should cheer him up. When the Firehawks went aloft in a few minutes, they’d wake the entire camp. He’d make sure to pass directly over his and Mickey’s room on his flight out. That way, if he wasn’t getting sleep, at least Mickey wouldn’t be either.
    They stood midfield, staying out of the way of the ground crews loading the choppers. The smokies had sent back requests for additional gear and Chutes, the paracargo loadmaster, was getting it aboard.
    The three of them were certified for night flight, so they were timing their departure for arrival at the fire just after sunrise. Vern wasn’t certified for night drops from the Firehawk yet, but that wouldn’t matter; it would be daylight by the time they arrived.
    Mark was giving them the rundown. “Emily, you’ve got Carly and Steve as usual. You’ll under-sling the drone’s launch trailer so that we can set it up in Montana. We’re not expecting anything unusual, but, Steve, you should grab the second bird anyway.”
    The MHA Unmanned Aerial Vehicle, the UAV that everyone except Steve called a drone, had proven to be a fantastic tool for tracking hotshot teams on the ground and seeing fire conditions in places they didn’t dare send a manned aircraft. They were pretty much the only outfit that the FAA allowed to fly drones.
    When Mark’s words registered, Vern looked up from staring at his coffee cup and begging the caffeine to kick in sooner rather than later. “Nothing ‘unusual’? What second bird?” The other two pilots had nodded curtly, once.
    Mark ignored him.
    Fine, whatever. A normal fire, though it was an odd way to say it. But it wasn’t. The second bird meant something to everyone except him. Like Honduras. Mark and Emily hadn’t reacted right if it were a vacation spot. But they weren’t browsing a folder. They were studying it. He was about to ask a question, but something in Mark’s look told him it wouldn’t be welcome.
    â€œJeannie,” Mark continued as if Vern didn’t exist, “Cal is with you.”
    Cal was the ex-hotshot MHA wildfire photographer, media specialist, Jeannie’s newfound husband, and an all-around decent guy. Too many of those here for Vern’s taste. It made Vern want to be foulmouthed and crappy.
    Damn Jasper! Vern had never considered trying to take a woman away from another guy. Even Mickey and Bruce’s antics last night were outside his normal operating procedures. He’d always waited for the ones who were obviously looking and made a really clear offer. The formula had worked wonderfully over the years.
    But Denise had slipped into his bloodstream through some doorway he knew nothing about. Even the memory of her reluctant but merry laugh made him feel better. Then worse because it couldn’t be for him. God, he was such a damned mess.
    What was it with MHA and couples anyway? It was like the Firehawk helicopters themselves went around making people marry each other right and left.
    Steve—in addition to being the drone guy—was a cocky-as-hell former smokejumper who’d snared model-gorgeous Carly. Mark and Emily had been happily married back in their military days. Now Jeannie and Cal.
    The morning air was thick with the reek of contented matrimonial harmony. He would be perfectly content with a cheerful cohabitation, but that was his outer limit.
    â€œChutes,” Mark continued to Jeannie as if