I snickered. “Thanks for that,” I said, scribbling on my notepad. “I’d like to get a picture of you in the suit at some point.” He frowned, and I nudged him. “You’re a peach for showing me around and an angel for taking me to see the superintendent.”

“A peach?”

“So, how many hours do you work on average?”

Tyler crossed his arms. “We’re doing this now?”

I looked up at him from my notepad. “Yeah?”

“It depends on if it’s fire season or downtime. If we’re fighting a fire, we just sleep, eat, and work. We can work up to eighteen-hour days, but working thirty-two hours a stretch isn’t uncommon. Up to fourteen-day stretches.”

“Holy shit,” I said under my breath.

“Used to be twenty-one. Then we get our required days off—a forty-eight hour R & R—and then we’re back out. We travel all over … wherever they need us. Even Alaska, Canada, and Mexico.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“I’m a peach? Really?” he said, amused.

“Shut up and answer.”

“I can’t shut up and answer…” He trailed off, recoiling from my glare. “We’re on our third season. We were ground crew before that.”

“We?” I said, looking up at him again.

“Taylor and me.”

“Are you a package deal?”

“Basically,” he answered matter-of-factly, and I imagined him doing the same in interviews as well.

I scribbled a few sentences, and then touched the pen to my lip. “I don’t see a lot of older guys on your crew. Why is that?”

“You won’t see many at all. Wildfire fighting is brutal. If you do it more than five or six seasons, you start seeing some lingering physical issues. The superintendent goes on site, but he’s basically restricted to a desk because of his back, knee, and shoulder surgeries.”

“Jesus,” I murmured.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’ve mentioned something about the community. What else do you guys do?”

“You mean community outreach? During downtime we have AM and PM physical training built in to the schedule, patrolling, drills, chainsaw work, fence building, signage…”

I jotted down his answers while he spoke, hoping Jojo could somehow produce a story from my random scribbles.

“Do you get time off?” I asked.

“Not during fire season. I took today off to get some shit done.”

“Do you need to…” I said, gesturing to the door.

“What? No, no, I’m good.”

“You don’t want to leave me alone with these guys, do you?”

“No, not really.”

“What will you do when you leave until you come back? What does a hotshot do on his day off?”

Tyler’s brows pulled in, and he stared at me, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You’re leaving, right? You don’t live here, do you?”

“No, I’m not leaving.”

“So you do live here?”