Rafe Mendez, 53, retired smokejumper turned wildfire mitigation consultant, leans against the sticky high-top at Boise’s newest beer garden, condensation from his hazy IPA dripping down to the silver, jagged scar on his left forearm. He’d sworn he’d never step foot in a place this crowded—his biggest flaw is that he’s held a grudge against casual social gatherings ever since his wife left him eight years prior, calling him “too stubborn to ever let anyone get close enough to matter.” He’d only stopped by because the 92-degree July heat had turned his truck’s cab into an oven, and he was still simmering from the city council vote that killed his proposed fire break project for the west side low-income neighborhood earlier that afternoon.
He’s halfway through his second pint when a woman drops her tote on the empty stool next to him, her bare, sun-warmed arm brushing his as she reaches for a paper napkin from the dispenser between them. He recognizes her instantly: Lena, the wife of the councilman who’d led the vote against his project, the woman he’d deliberately avoided for three months even when she waved at him from across their shared street. The scent of jasmine lotion and fresh cut grass hits him first, followed by the bright fizz of the lime seltzer she orders from the passing server. He tenses, ready to grab his wallet and leave, when she turns to him, holds eye contact a beat longer than polite, and smirks.