He tried to think of what he might have done to offend her. There’d been a few off-hand remarks about thinking she’d be a man. Had that been what did it?
Whatever it was, damage control now posed a challenge.
And Dan had never met a challenge he could refuse.
*
Jazz spotted Danthe moment she walked through the door. Lou’s Pub was mostly empty and he and his handsome companions were hard for a woman to miss.
She’d chosen Lou’s partly because the clerk at the grocery store swore it had the best food in town for its price range. The other determining factor had been her assumption its price range would be beneath that of a billionaire. She hoped the clerk had been right about the food, at least.
Dan waved for her to join him and she could hardly refuse, despite the sting of embarrassment flushing her skin. She should have said she wanted to get settled in at the base when he invited her to dinner, not that she had other plans, but she’d never expected to be called on a tiny white lie by the man who currently served as her boss.
The three men stood as she arrived at their table.
“Guys, this is Jazz O’Reilly, our new base manager,” Dan said. He held out a chair for her, then once they were all seated, introduced his companions to her.
Jazz, a people-watcher by nature, sat quietly while the men talked. She’d been curious about the Endeavour’s new owners, thanks to her deep-rooted suspicions of anyone with money—particularly those who tried to hide it—but Montana news reports had supplied very little information about them. An internet search had led back to a private holding company. A few discreet questions at the grocery store had led her to the conclusion that the locals were going to be tight-lipped about them. What little she’d picked up had come from Will—and that was Dan’s name. If their choice of hangouts was any indication, they preferred anonymity.
She studied them now.
Fortune certainly favored the bold and black-haired, hazel-eyed Dallas Tucker was as bold as they came. He’d been put on this earth to have fun. If her mother were here, she’d be hitting on him for sure. He gave off a vibe that said he adored women of all age, shape, or size, and was confident they adored him in return, but his flirting was so incredibly outrageous, no one could ever mistake his attentions as serious. Jazz liked him at once, probably because of his openness. Any woman brave enough to hook up with him would have to be supremely self-confident, however, not to mention rich in her own right, so she could meet him on equal terms.
Quiet Ryan O’Connell was a tougher man to define. He had medium-brown hair and enigmatic, chocolatey-brown eyes that for some reason, made her think of kicked puppies. He seemed content to let Dan and Dallas do the talking. Yet of the three of them, if she’d met them in Vegas, he was the one she’d have sworn came from money. She couldn’t quite figure him out, but the edge to him made him someone she’d be equally sure to avoid. No good ever came from the mysterious type, no matter how much—or little—money they had. The three dots tattooed on the web between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand were another red flag, as were the silvery scars on his pinkie. The former suggested he’d spent time in prison. The latter said he’d blood-sworn loyalty to some gang, although the scars looked really old, meaning he’d likely been little more than a kid if he had. She’d known men like Ryan while she was growing up, when they’d still been boys. A few had turned their lives around. Others had not.
And then there was Dan McKillop. He had the whole affable, regular-guy routine down pat. Men like Dan liked to pretend their wealth didn’t matter, but they cared about image. They didn’t simply write checks—they got involved in the charitable activities they supported. They got their hands dirty helping with the construction work on their own mansions too, or wrangling the breed stock on their purebred horse ranches along with the hired hands, always secure in the knowledge they could take that three-week vacation in Tahiti whenever they liked. Even his job as sheriff was little more than a popularity contest disguised as public service. Jazz had no patience for the Dan McKillops of the world, no matter how much they looked like Keith Urban.
Because money did matter. She doled out enough of it to her family to know that for a fact.
Dan signaled the server. “Jazz, what can I get you?”
“Iced tea, thanks.”
The server was a young brunette with big brown eyes and a long, high ponytail with purple stripes worked throughout. She carried her empty tray tucked under her arm. Her smile was big and bright, and punctuated by dimples that screamed“Let’s be best friends”to the world. That smile could put her through college on tips alone. She beamed it at Dan.
“Leila, darlin’,” he said. “This is Jazz. You’ll probably be seeing a lot of her. She’s in charge of smoke jumping operations out at the airfield this summer. Leila is Lou’s daughter,” he added, speaking to Jazz.
“Smoke jumping!” Leila looked far too impressed for Jazz’s level of comfort. “How did you get into something like that?”
Jazz liked that her first question hadn’t been how a woman managed to qualify. “I’m a firefighter most of the year, so it was a natural progression.”
“Well, welcome to Grand.” Leila passed her a menu. “I recommend any of our burgers. The buns are homemade and we use local beef.” The dimples reappeared. “Although if Dan’s paying, order the steak. It’s even better. I’ll be back in a moment with your iced tea.”
She walked away, her hips and ponytail swaying.
“What made smoke jumping a natural progression from firefighting?” Dallas asked Jazz, curious hazel eyes fixed on hers. “And why firefighting to begin with?”
She could hardly lead off with“I didn’t know what to do with my life and the guy I was sleeping with after I landed in Helena happened to be a firefighter.”Besides, there was so much more to the story. She’d had to get her high school equivalency first, then pass all the written tests and the physical. She’d done all of those things on her own, while waiting on tables, and it had been hard, but so worth it in the end.
“A friend bet me I couldn’t pass the physical so I decided to prove him wrong.” She played with the menu. “Honestly, jumping out of a plane for the first time almost ended my career. I’ve never been so scared in my life. By the third jump though, I was hooked. I couldn’t imagine anything better than those first few seconds of freefall, but then my first forest fire was the icing on the cake. It’s like standing next to the railway tracks when the Amtrak goes by. The rush is incredible.” She shook herself. Simply talking about it had her heart racing.
They were all staring at her.
Dallas was nodding. “Adrenaline. The reaction starts in the amygdala, then a signal is sent to the hypothalamus, which triggers the sympathetic nervous system. The autonomic nerves carry the signal to the adrenal medulla, which releases adrenaline into the bloodstream. A lot of smokejumpers are junkies, the same as anyone who regularly engages in extreme sports. It’s better than sex.”
She certainly liked the adrenaline rush, true, although she wouldn’t go so far as to say she was a junkie. She wasn’t sure she agreed it was better than sex, either.
Dan wore a strange look on his face. “If you’re wondering about the inappropriate geek-speak, Dallie’s a doctor. We’re building him a clinic close to the airfield. He’ll be heading the medical training for the base’s volunteers and any refresher training your team might need. Unfortunately, he lacks any filters and we don’t have a human resources department to tell him what comments he should keep to himself.”