Been too long since I played the snippet game, so have a little piece of Fire on the Mountain. Here, Jake and Kurt just put out a small fire caused by lightning strike.
“Point the nozzle up,” Kurt suggested from behind me, “and hang on tight, I’m letting go.”
Warned, I was ready for the jolt in the hose when he let go. I wasn’t ready for him to sprint out into the private rainstorm I was making. Now he stood in dusty green utility pants and boots and nothing else, face up to the spray. The water came down on his upturned face, tilted to catch the arcing wetness, his mouth open and eyes closed, arms wide.
The droplets came down on him as he laughed and enjoyed the impromptu shower. The day was warm and the work had been hot, and now he turned from side to side to cool himself. Shallow rivers ran down his tightly muscled chest and arms and soaked his short, blond hair but couldn’t make it lie down. Instead, the drops caught the sun, flashing the light back at me, and my breath suddenly came short.
The fire in the woods was out. But now there was a fire in me, and it was already raging out of control.
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