Alpha on the Air

Book 1 of the Fireside Fates: Angel Spring Bachelors series

One dating show. Six wolf-shifter firefighters. Six women running from their pasts. Welcome to Angel Spring.

Rae Delgado’s meteorologist career went up in smoke when she blew the whistle on a corrupt politician. Now, she’s trading city lights for a reality TV reset in Angel Spring, a mountain town where the air smells like pine and the men smell like trouble. The last thing she needs is a brooding alpha firefighter whose commanding voice drowns out the raging storm in her heart. Caleb Winters isn’t just a pretty face. He’s the town’s last line of defense.

The moment Rae stepped foot into town, Caleb’s wolf roared his claim. Mine. But as Angel Spring Fire Department’s alpha, he’s sworn to protect his town, even if it means locking down his own heart. With the cameras rolling and a wildfire threatening the town, he’s forced to choose between duty and fate.

Excerpt

RAE

The turboprop’s window was smaller than my face, but I pressed my forehead against it anyway, letting the cold plastic cool my skin as I watched pine ridges rise through a lace of smoke. My meteorologist brain wouldn’t shut up, cataloging the conditions automatically. Late-summer instability, dry thunderheads building over the far peaks, wind shear visible in the anvil tops. The kind of weather that made wildfire season stretch into September.

My stomach flipped. It had nothing to do with the turbulence, and everything to do with the fact that I had just sold the next six weeks of my life to a reality-dating show. I couldn’t believe that I was actually doing it.

But not just any reality TV show, the bachelors were wolf-shifter firefighters, the setting was a mountain town I’d never heard of until three weeks ago, and my professional reputation hung in the balance like those smoke plumes, visible from miles away and impossible to ignore.

“First time in Angel Spring?” The voice crackled through my headset, warm and amused.

I glanced forward at the cockpit. Felicity Foster, with her neat ponytail and easy grin, did not look like your typical pilot. She had introduced herself at Huntington Harbor Airport on the tarmac with a firm handshake and a concise summary of our flight schedule. Now, she was checking her instruments with the kind of calm competence that made me relax and my throat unclench.

“First time,” I confirmed. First time being the new girl, first time being the token human chasing after a wolf shifter firefighter, first time praying my reputation won’t end up as crispy as those ridges look. “Though I’ve been studying the topography for a week.”

“Let me guess, hazard profiles?” Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “You’re the meteorologist, right? Rae?”

“Guilty.” I tried for a smile. “Old habits. I see a glacial ridge, and my brain immediately starts calculating avalanche chutes and dam-breach flood plains.” Silently, I thought, I see a town full of strangers and I calculate the odds of becoming the scapegoat again.

“You’ll fit right in.” Felicity adjusted our descent angle with barely a wobble. “Half this town thinks three steps ahead of disaster. The other half are the disasters.”

I laughed, surprising myself. For a moment, the knot inside my stomach loosened. “Which half are you?”

“Depends on the day.” She tapped a gauge. “But I like to think I keep both halves alive, so there’s that.”

The plane banked gently, and suddenly the town spread out below us, a scatter of buildings tucked into the valley like a miniature model. Main Street ran straight as a ruler toward a river canyon that cut silver through the green. I spotted the fire station immediately, its red roof and radio tower unmistakable even from the air.

My heart thumped. There they were, the men who might eat me alive, or save my life. Possibly both.

“Roberts Conservation Park is that whole eastern section,” Felicity said, nodding toward a vast stretch of wilderness. “River canyon to the south. It’s where we do swift-water rescue training. That modern glass building is the Sabrina Wu Medical Center. See the helipad? And that Victorian place with the lilac bushes? That’s where you’ll be staying. The Lilac House.”

I cataloged each landmark, my pulse picking up speed. This was real. I was really here.

“Rae?” Felicity’s voice inquired gently. “You okay?”

I exhaled slowly. “Just trying not to think about how this could all blow up in my face.”

Felicity didn’t ask for details. Bless her, but her expression said she knew. Everyone knew. That’s what happened when you went viral for calling out a state senator on live television for pressuring you to downplay a tornado warning.

“For what it’s worth,” Felicity said, “Dahlia Quinn doesn’t do hit pieces. And this town? We don’t tolerate bullies. You’ll be safe here.”

I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to believe her.

During the entire flight, Felicity kept up a steady stream of commentary that felt less like tour-guide patter and more like welcome-home gossip.

“The sheriff’s office is next to the fire station because Sheriff Reyes likes to keep an eye on things. Oh, and if you need coffee at oh-dark-thirty, the tavern opens at four-thirty for the first responders.”

I found myself smiling despite my nerves. “You really love this place.”

“Saved my life,” Felicity said simply. “Literally. I crashed a plane in a storm five years ago, and Caleb’s team pulled me and my husband out of a canyon.”

“Caleb?”

“Caleb Winters. Alpha of the firehouse pack, fire chief, generally the guy who keeps everyone alive and sane.” Felicity’s voice warmed with obvious affection. “You’ll meet him in about ten minutes. Fair warning, though. He can be intense, but in the best way. Like a really competent golden retriever crossed with a semi-truck.”

I laughed. “That’s quite an image.”

“You’ll see.”

The cabin door cracked open and mountain air poured in, thin and smelling like pine needles, with a hint of smoke. Dahlia Quinn was waiting at the airstrip when we landed, and she looked exactly like her publicity photos. Her tanned skin glowed, matching perfectly with her red lipstick, and silver-streaked braids. She pulled me into a hug before I could even set down my luggage. Over her shoulder, I spotted a cameraman hovering, lens focused on me. Let the show begin.

“Rae! Welcome to Rescue My Heart: Angel Spring.” She stepped back, hands still on my shoulders, eyes searching my face with genuine concern. “How was the flight?”

“Smooth. Felicity’s great.”

“She is.” Dahlia linked her arm through mine, steering me toward a hangar while the camera tracked us at a respectful distance. “Okay, quick rundown before we get you settled. You’ve read the packet, but I want to make sure you know this isn’t your typical reality show.”

I tensed. “Meaning?”

“Meaning we’re not here to humiliate anyone or manufacture drama.” Dahlia’s voice was firm. “Six bachelor wolf-shifter firefighters, six women from the city looking for real futures. Small-town rules apply. You can leave anytime, no questions asked.”

“And the eliminations?” I’d read this part three times, not quite believing it.

“Don’t apply to fated mates.” Dahlia squeezed my arm. “If you find your person, and I mean really find them, the fated kind of finding, you’re exempt from all the game mechanics. This is about building real lives, Rae. Not playing for cameras.”

Something in my chest loosened. “What about the support? The packet mentioned housing and job placement?”

“All real. You’ll stay at the Lilac House with the other contestants. It’s fully furnished and utilities are covered. We have a career counselor who’ll help you find work in the area if you want to stay, whether you end up with one of the bachelors or not. We even have a medical liaison, Dr. Sabrina Wu, who specializes in shifter-human hybrid care.”

I stopped walking. “You’re serious.”

“Completely.” Dahlia met my eyes. “I know you’ve been burned before, Rae. I know you’re worried about being spun as the disgraced meteorologist turned shifter groupie, but that’s not my show. I want to help people find home. That’s it.”

The camera operator, a woman with purple-tipped hair and kind eyes, gave me a small thumbs-up from behind her equipment.

I took a breath. “Okay. I’m in.”

“Good.” Dahlia grinned. “Now let’s get you settled before the weather turns.”

Inside the hangar, the temperature jumped ten degrees. It smelled of jet fuel and coffee. A field producer with a clipboard awaited our arrival.

“Rae, this is Jerry. He’s going to ask you a few questions for a pre-arrival confessional. Totally optional, but it helps viewers understand where you’re coming from.”

I hesitated, then nodded. Jerry led me to a quiet corner of the hangar, positioned me in front of a backdrop of mountains and sky, and clipped a mic to my collar.

“Just talk to me,” he said gently. “Forget the camera. Why are you here?”

I looked past the lens, toward the town waiting beyond the hangar doors. Why are you here, Rae? “I’m here because I need to rebuild my credibility. I’m a meteorologist. A good one, but I made the mistake of telling the truth to save lives when someone powerful wanted me to lie to save the economy. And now I’m the punchline instead of the professional.” The words tumbled out before I could think twice and censor myself.

Jerry nodded. “What do you want from this experience?”

“Honest work. A place where public safety actually matters more than politics. And maybe…” I paused, surprised by the crack in my voice. “Maybe a place where I can belong without apologizing for taking up space.”

Jerry smiled. “And if you find love?”

“Then I’ll be lucky. But only if he chooses truth with me. I’m done being someone’s convenient narrative.”

“Perfect,” Jerry said. “Thank you, Rae.”

The drive into Angel Spring proper took us to the Lilac House first, a sprawling Victorian painted soft purple-gray, with actual lilac bushes flanking the porch and window boxes full of late-summer flowers. Dahlia hopped out to help me carry my luggage inside, and I was immediately enveloped in the scent of lavender and fresh linen.

“Rae, welcome home!” A woman appeared from what looked like a staging area filled with racks of clothing, a makeup station, ring lights everywhere. I recognized her from the welcome packet. Nyla Hart, stylist and handler. She wore glitter eyeshadow and a wide, toothy smile that could power a small city.

“Hi,” I managed.

“Oh, honey, you look exhausted. We’re going to get you sorted.” Nyla took my second suitcase as if it weighed nothing. “I’ve already pulled together a mountain-ready wardrobe capsule for you, base layers, flannels, a gorgeous windproof jacket, cute hiking boots. Functional is sexy, I promise. And we’ll do something softer with your hair for the drier air in the mountains. Trust me?”

I found myself nodding. “Okay.”

“Great. You’re in room A, first door on the left. Drop your stuff, catch your breath, and then we’ll head to the station for the big introduction. Sound good?”

“Sounds terrifying,” I admitted.

Nyla laughed. “You’ll be fine. And Rae? If anyone makes you uncomfortable, you tell me or Dahlia immediately. We don’t play that here.”

The Angel Spring Fire Department sat on Main Street like a beacon made of solid red brick. The giant engine bay doors were open, and I could see gleaming red trucks and neatly organized gear cages inside.

My heart kicked into a gallop.

Dahlia touched my elbow. “Ready?”

“No,” I said honestly. “But let’s do it, anyway.”

The cameras rolled as we walked through the bay doors. Six men stood waiting in clean uniforms, and my brain analyzed them automatically. Tall, broad-shouldered, all of them had the kind of casual competence that came from daily life-or-death work.

Then one of them stepped forward, and the world tilted.

Tall, with sandy blond hair, sun-streaked and slightly mussed. Blue-green eyes that locked onto mine with the weight of a summer storm rolling in. His wide shoulders and bulging biceps looked like he could carry a giant redwood tree. He moved like water over stone, smooth, fierce, and certain.

“Welcome to Angel Spring,” he said. “I’m Caleb Winters, fire chief and alpha of the Angel Spring pack. We’re glad you’re here.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but words failed to reach my tongue. Meteorologist, trouble-magnet, professional at burning her own life down, pleased to meet you, Chief.

All I could think of was that he smelled amazing, like woodsmoke and warm earth after a downpour. The exact smell of safety, of home, of something I didn’t have a name for but my body recognized with a visceral, bone-deep roar. Mine.

My knees shook. My breath hitched. My stomach flopped. The diesel smell of the fire station faded to nothing, and all I could sense was him standing ten feet away, watching me with eyes that had gone very, very still.

My brain screamed. Stop. Retreat.

Too late.

“Rae?” Dahlia’s voice sounded like it was coming from underwater. “You okay?”

I couldn’t answer. I was too busy drowning in the realization that every single cell in my body had just woken up and started chanting mine, mine, mine.

Caleb’s nostrils flared. His chest widened with a breath he controlled so smoothly. And then I heard it, a low, not-quite-there rumble under his sternum, like distant thunder.

Oh.

Oh.

“Sometimes,” Dahlia said gently, a smile in her voice, “fate arrives right on schedule.”

She made a small gesture with two fingers, and I saw several cameras dip and operators step back, giving us space.

I forced myself to breathe. To think. To remember that I was standing in a fire station with cameras rolling and five other firefighters watching and that this was not the time to make a fool of myself.

Caleb seemed to be having the same struggle. His jaw was tight, his hands loose at his sides in a way that looked deliberately casual. But his eyes… God, his eyes were locked on me like I was a weather system he needed to track.

“Rae Delgado,” I managed, finding my voice. “Meteorologist. Former TV, currently unemployed thanks to a politician with bad ethics and good lawyers.”

Caleb’s mouth twitched. Almost a smile, as he introduced himself again. “Caleb Winters. Alpha, fire chief, currently trying not to crowd you on camera.”

“Appreciated,” I said, and meant it.

He nodded once, then gestured to the other men. “My team. Slade Sullivan, medic and Beta.” A man built like a brickhouse with warm sun-kissed skin and steady hands, raised one in greeting. “Kane Bishop, communications and security, Gamma.” The dark-haired one inclined his head. “Clint Riker, technical rescue.” A redhead with rope burns on his forearms grinned. “Maddox Hale, tracking and scout.” Quiet, dark eyes, built like he could disappear into the forest and you’d never find him. “And Ryland Cole, wilderness trainer.” Tall, rangy, with the kind of tan that said he lived outside.

“Nice to meet you all,” I said, and was proud that my voice only shook a little.

“We’ve got a demo set up,” Caleb said, gesturing toward a table loaded with gear. “Go-bags, weather radios, basic emergency prep. Thought you might want to see what we work with.”

I stepped closer, grateful for something to focus on besides the way my skin was buzzing. The scent of him hit me again, stronger now and wrapping around me like a blanket I didn’t know I needed.

I looked up. Caleb was watching me, and the world went quiet.

Fated mate.

The words whispered through my mind like a diagnosis, certain and irrevocable.

I’d read about this. Studied it even back when I was researching the show. The supernatural bond between shifters and their destined partners, recognized by scent, cemented by choice, powerful enough to override every other instinct.

I just hadn’t expected it to feel like this. Like coming home and falling off a cliff at the same time.

Dahlia cleared her throat gently. “Rae, if you need a minute—”

“No.” I straightened my back, pulling on every ounce of professional composure I had left. “I’m good. It’s just a lot to take in.”

“Understandable,” Caleb said quietly. His voice was still calm, but I caught the edge of something rough underneath. “If this is too much, we can cut. Just say the word.”

I met his eyes. “If I say cut right now, do you stop?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. He looked at Dahlia, who raised two fingers again.

Every camera in the bay dipped immediately. Operators stepped back, lowering their rigs.

My muscles unlocked. “Okay. Okay, that’s… thank you.”

“Consent matters here,” Caleb said. “Always.”

The bay doors opened, and two more people stepped in—a man in a sheriff’s uniform and a woman in medical scrubs.

“Sheriff Reyes,” the man said, offering his hand. “Welcome to Angel Spring, Ms. Delgado. I’m here to make sure everyone plays nice and follows the rules. You have any trouble, you call me directly.” He handed me a card with a cell number written on the back.

“And I’m Dr. Sabrina Wu,” the second woman said. Her smile was warm, her handshake firm. “I run the medical center. If you have any questions, especially about shifter-human dynamics or hybrid care, I’m your person. No judgment, total confidentiality.”

“Thank you,” I said, pocketing both cards.

A man in a producer’s vest approached. Mid-forties, kind eyes, clipboard in hand. “Rae, I’m Gideon Pike, showrunner. Quick orientation. We’ve got a station tour scheduled for this afternoon, glam consults at The Lodge at two, a safety briefing at four, and a welcome dinner at six. The upcoming Spark Challenge is Storm Prep 101 at the community barn. Sound manageable?”

“Sure,” I said, because what else could I say?

“Great. And Rae?” Gideon’s expression softened. “You’re in control of your story. If something feels wrong, you speak up.”

I nodded, throat tight.

Dahlia stepped closer, pressing something into my hand. It was a business card for a counselor. “No pressure,” she said quietly. “But if you need someone to talk to, she’s good. Off-camera, confidential.”

I pocketed the card next to the others, feeling oddly steadied by the weight of them.

Nyla appeared at my elbow with a bottle of water and a granola bar. “Altitude snack,” she announced. “Also, your cheekbones are going to be killer up here, but you need SPF. I’ll add it to your kit.”

I laughed. Actually laughed, and some of the tension bled out of the room.

Caleb was still watching me. Not staring, just aware.

I looked past him, out the open bay doors, and saw the sky. The thunderheads I’d spotted from the plane were building, anvil tops spreading like dark wings over the far ridge.

Caleb followed my gaze. His jaw tightened.

“Fire weather?” I asked.

“Possibly.” He pulled out his phone, thumbs moving quickly. “I’ll send a heads-up to Forestry and the Sheriff.”

“Can you add me to that thread?” The words were out before I could second-guess them.

Caleb looked at me, something shifting in his expression. “Yeah. I can do that.”

Dahlia beamed. “See? Teamwork.”

My phone buzzed a moment later with a group text with weather alerts and wind-shear warnings. I scanned it quickly, my meteorologist brain kicking into gear.

“Low humidity, high winds, dry lightning probable,” I murmured. “You’ll want to pre-position crews near the high-risk zones.”

“Already on it,” Caleb said. “Kane’s pulling the maps now.”

I glanced at him, and he was looking at the sky again, not at me. Watching the weather with the same intensity I’d seen in every good incident commander I’d ever worked with.

A warmth blossomed in my gut.

If he’s mine, I thought, he’ll have to choose the truth with me.