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football games, tailgating, watching sports,
and occasionally, trying his hand in the kitchen. He wasn’t great, but he could
make a passing-grade meal.
    Kate was the first woman in a long time who interested him — maybe at first
just because of who she was. The more he got to know her, though, the more he
thought she was attractive, funny — even when she wasn’t trying — and a
challenge when she was digging her heels in.
    Her fingers interlocked over his belly, the gloves on her hands a size too
big. He liked looking down and seeing her arms around him.
    Turning the corner, she fought it and he had to touch her arm and talk loud
enough for her to hear him.
    “When I turn, you’ve got to pretend like you’re a part of my body. Don’t
stiffen up. I can feel you, the bike feels you. It’s awkward.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    He squeezed her wrist. “No, don’t be. Just relax.”
    “I am,” she shouted in the wind and over the bike’s rumbling tail pipes.
    Rocky laughed. “If you’re like this relaxed, I’d hate to see you tense.”
    He switched gears on the bike, followed the road past Warm Springs and onto
the stretch of highway that lead to Lucky Peak. The day was cold, but not
biting. He’d guess the temperature to be about fifty or so. Maybe a little
warmer when the sun was bearing down on them.
    He lived for moments like this — the wide-open road, the heavy feel of his
bike between his thighs. While his job was something he loved, the stress
levels, at times, short-circuited him. He saw some gruesome things, people in
the worst possible situations. They took a lot of medical calls, not nearly as
many fire. When people called the fire department they were having a crisis, so
he’d learned how to deal with highly charged emotions. It wasn’t always easy,
especially if the call involved children, but he loved what he did. He couldn’t
imagine doing anything else.
    “You okay back there?” he asked, taking her arm again, giving her a squeeze.
    “Just fine.”
    “Good. We’re almost there.”
    He rounded the bend and the Rib Shack came into view. The building was
weathered and without paint, but it was stable and resilient. He figured the
place had been here for a good twenty-some odd years. He’d been coming for
longer than he could remember.
    Pulling into the parking lot, he recognized his buddies’ bikes, many with the
International Association of Fire Fighters logo on the fender stickers. He cut
the engine, let Kate stagger off first, then he swung his leg over and took his
helmet off. He helped her with hers. Even with her hairstyle in disarray, she
looked cute. Her eyes were wide, her expression one of “let’s get this over
with.”
    “Everyone’s already here,” he said.
    “I didn’t really think anyone else would show up. I thought that whole group
invitation was just something for the newspaper.”
    “Not even. The guys from Station 6, and a few of the other stations who
aren’t on shift today all wanted to come and be here.”
    “Like how many?” she mumbled.
    “Twenty or so.”
    “I have to eat ribs with twenty firefighters and then tell them I still don’t
like this restaurant?”
    Taking her by the elbow and steering her toward the door, he said, “No, this
time around you can say that you like the restaurant.”

     
Chapter Sixteen
    Kate entered the Rib Shack and immediately noticed the group of firefighters.
Most of them wore their blue, IAFF long-sleeved T-shirts. Jeans and boots made
up the rest of their wardrobe. Seeing her and Rocky, they smiled and waved them
over.
    She’d describe the smiles as friendly. Too friendly.
    “Miss Larsen,” Captain Evans greeted. “Or should I say Miss Largo?”
    She responded with, “Kate is fine.”
    Rocky steered her toward the table, and once there, all the firefighters got
up, took their beers and went outside.
    The last time she was here, she stayed indoors in the heat.
    “Can’t we