Chapter 60
MAC
I missed the meeting because of a multi-car pileup out on the highway.
There had been several fatalities, a chemical spill and we’d called in a life flight helicopter out of Missoula.
We’d been at the scene all day. After returning to the station and completing the paperwork, it was late before I saw Georgia’s email.
The one with the final proof of the calendar.
I hadn’t seen my photos yet. I took in the cover and stared at it, confused. How was it done since I never stood beside any of the other eleven for the photo? I tried to figure it out, but gave up, then scrolled on to January.
To me.
Oh.
There was nothing to the picture. It was me sitting on the back running board of the engine.
Roscoe was on my thigh. I was pretty much glaring at the camera.
Somehow, Roscoe was, too. It was the whiskers on his chin that somehow mimicked the shape of my mustache.
It was oddly cool and amazing that Georgia had the eye to see it.
While I knew my glare was all I hate every second of this, to everyone else, I just looked… intense. Powerful. Like I knew what I was doing and that was why I was the chief.
There was nothing inappropriate about it. Not one hint of porniness like I first pictured. I flipped through the other images. Some were funny. Some were lighthearted. Some were… just good.
The calendar was fucking good.
And I was going to have to eat every one of my grumpy words like I would a huge bowl of chili dinner.
This had been Georgia’s idea. Her execution. Her delivery.
It looked and felt like her personality. Open. Bright. Upbeat–except for my January glare–and welcoming. It showed Hunter Valley Fire Department in the best possible light.
Everyone was going to love it.
I loved it.
And that made me an asshole, because deep down inside, I doubted her up until the very end. Until about five minutes earlier when I first opened the email.
I wanted to tell her how amazing she was. How the project was a hit and the community was going to love it. That it blew the chili dinner idea away. No one was going to even remember it was a possibility.
I wanted to tell her. To show her. To kiss her. To see her smile. To see her come one last time before she left. Because seeing the final product of the calendar meant that Georgia’s job was done.