Bear The Fire (Firebear Brides 4)

by Anya Nowlan

  Kali pulled back a little, frowning. Hell no he hadn’t ordered it with anything. She was mindful about that. Flicking a quick glance at Cassandra, Kali took a calming breath and then smiled again, trying to make it look at least partially sincere.

  “I’m sorry, sir. Let me fix you another one on the house. It must have been my mistake.”

  All eyes were on them, the packed café experiencing a tiny bit of drama in a dull, warm summer day. Kali felt a blush creep up her cheeks but she kept her cool, knowing damn well that this was one of those things that made her wish she hadn’t dropped her smoking habit a few years ago. Man would it have been good to light one up after getting reamed by a giant asshole like this Dustin.

  “No. Fuck you. Honestly, just fuck you, bitch,” he sneered.

  The next thing Kali knew, her red uniform top was dripping with triple chocolate latte, no cinnamon, no whipped cream. Her face was dappled with the sugary sweet drink and her big green eyes were wide with shock as Dustin wheeled around and tramped outside, cursing and yelling to no one but himself.

  “Holy shit,” Cassandra said, snapping a picture of Kali on her phone as she dripped with coffee. “This is so going on the wall!” she cheered, clearly ignoring Kali’s very capable death-ray glare.

  “Exactly what I needed,” Kali said, turning around and stomping into the back room of the coffee shop to change her top.

  She wished it was the first time that had happened, but it was far from it. They had a whole wall of customer-related injuries, as Cassandra liked to call them, both physical and mental. Some had pictures, some had bills, and some only had colorful sticky notes to denominate the awesome experience of the horribly scarring events.

  Slumping down next to her locker, Kali glared at the wall, shaking her head. Her long, caramel-blonde hair fell over one shoulder, tied up in a ponytail as per corporate’s orders. Squirming out of her shit, she plucked her regular black T-shirt out of her locker and put it on. It wasn’t a uniform top but it would have to do for now.

  I hope Malya doesn’t see me in this, Kali thought grimly, praying that their shift supervisor had chosen this day to have a hangover for the full day, not half the day as she sometimes did. This day can’t get any worse.

  She knew she was supposed to stand up and go back to work like nothing had happened, smiling like a goofball and jumping at every inane request and demand. But her feet wouldn’t move and frankly, Kali couldn’t blame them. Groaning, she buried her head into her hands and sat there for a minute, cursing herself for the choices she’d made.

  Become a singer! It’ll be cool! You’ll totally make it big! Kali mocked herself, remembering her overeager sixteen-year-old self and all the big plans she’d had.

  At her parents coaxing, she’d finished a degree in marine biology—which might have been the most useless degree for someone with artistic aspirations—and then put it to excellent use, working as a barista for the last few years. Now at twenty-four years of age, the reality of her choices were crashing down all over her, much like Dustin’s coffee.

  “You coming?” Cassandra called, peeking into the back room. “We’re getting a line out here, hon,” she said, her expression marked with a compassionate frown.

  “I’m coming! Sorry,” Kali said, hopping up on her feet.

  In retrospect, she should have known that dreams were made for little girls and rich people. But somehow, she’d been reluctant to give hers up. She’d already given up too much; saying no to her singing might have just been the last straw to break the proverbial camel’s back.

  Scrunching her nose up, Kali turned to close her locker when her phone buzzed. She kept it in there so she wouldn’t feel the urge to browse on Pinterest or Facebook, or hell, SassyDate, during work. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed the phone, perfectly ready to ignore the call and get back to whoever it was later.

  When she saw the caller ID flashing on the screen, she froze.

  Ragnar Hamilton. Shit.

  If Ragnar Hamilton was calling her, that could only mean that there was something going on with Rhodes. Rhodes. The guy who’d tossed her world around and then disappeared as she was finishing college. The man she’d fallen head over heels for and couldn’t get off her mind no matter how many shitty SassyDate dates she went on. The man who… no, she wouldn’t even think about that. They’d made a promise to each other. They’d never talk about that ever again.

  Which was real fucking easy to do seeing as Rhodes had vanished into thin air pretty much straight after that had happened.

  And the only other person in the world who knew was Ragnar. With trembling hands and a dry throat, Kali thumbed across the screen and brought the phone to her ear.

  “This is Kali,” she said, still internally praying that this was some sort of a mistake.

  Maybe Ragnar had called the wrong number! Maybe it was all a big old coincidence and it wasn’t him, just her phone going crazy! Maybe…

  “Hey, Kali. This is Ragnar.”

  Shit. No such luck.

  “Hey,” she replied awkwardly, intimately aware of how her stomach was coiling in on itself and her powerful lungs felt like they were about to scrunch up and crawl up her throat with the next words that she spoke.

  “I’m calling you to ask for that favor now, Kali. Do you remember?”

  She closed her eyes, her hand going slack around the phone. The corners of her mouth fell and she stood perfectly in place, stewing in the moment and wondering if God couldn’t just strike down and smite her where she stood. It would make things a hell of a lot easier.

  “Kali? You still there?” Ragnar asked, his deep voice tinged with a note of worry that would have been heartwarming had Kali not known what was behind it.

  “I’m still here. I remember. What do you need?” she asked, her strong voice merely a squeak.

  She’d proven herself wrong. The day could, in fact, get worse.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Rhodes

  “I’m not entirely sure why you felt the need to take two different trucks, but whatever floats your boat, buddy,” Rhodes said, giving Ragnar a critical look as they sat on the tailgate of Redmond’s newest truck.

  Rhodes was sure that thing was either going to get burned down, roll off a cliff, or get vandalized within a few days. It seemed to be the only way Redmond knew how to keep vehicles, after all.

  “Royce will come get his later,” Ragnar said indifferently, leaning back on his elbows and watching the blue sky.

  The sun was up high and beating down, scorching everything around them. It was the most vicious summer in Idaho in decades and that could only spell trouble. Rhodes knew what that meant. It meant fun. It meant great jumps and Hotshot crews whizzing around and mayhem. Everything he needed to keep his mind off of things he didn’t want to think about.

  Yet here he was, ready to get on a plane and make his way to Mississippi, armed with nothing but one duffel bag worth of personal belongings that were little more than clothes and a change of boots. He traveled light. All his baggage was internal.

  “There’s the damn thing,” Rhodes said with a sigh, catching a glimpse of the rinky-dink airplane that kept Shifter Grove in contact with the rest of civilization.

  It had been an awkward exit from Hamilton House, one that left Rhodes somewhat confused and more eager to leave. It seemed that no one in the house actually believed that he would leave. Abigail had this big grin on her lips that he’d learned spelled trouble, though her sassy mouth hadn’t said a thing, which too was surprising. Tiana had given him a light hug and told him to behave himself, and Rose had tears in her eyes, but they weren’t of sadness.

  Were they happy to see him go? No, that couldn’t be it.

  Shaking his head, Rhodes brought himself back into the moment as the plane came nearer and nearer, ready to drop on the tarmac.

  “Is this where we say our brotherly goodbyes?” he asked, knowing he was the only passenger that day looking to leave.

  “I think
we have time,” Ragnar said, the same impassiveness in his voice.

  Rhodes frowned, but shrugged. Okay. Time.

  The fact that he was leaving pricked at the back of his mind. Getting in the truck and driving away from Hamilton House was one of the hardest things he had done recently. It felt like tearing himself away from something that was entirely right, while he himself was entirely… well, wrong. It was clichéd, but that was how he felt. Best not to think about it.

  Nothing whiskey couldn’t fix, he reminded himself again, a notion he chose not to share with Ragnar.

  “I’m surprised Royce and Redmond didn’t come to send me off,” he commented lazily as the plane dropped down and slowed.

  “We figured one of us was enough,” Ragnar noted, getting up into a seated position.

  Suddenly, the air changed around Ragnar. A tension rose in his shoulders that had been hiding underneath all along. Frowning, Rhodes looked at his brother, an inquisitive look on his face.

  “Something you want to tell me?” Rhodes asked, quirking a brow.

  “Yeah, actually.” Ragnar scowled, looking at the airplane and then at Rhodes. “How do I say this… try to keep a clear head, will you? Don’t overreact?”

  “What would I overreact to?” Rhodes asked as the plane ground to a halt and the back door was kicked open, the ladder lowering quickly after.

  But Ragnar never took the chance to answer. With his hand clapping Rhodes on the shoulder, Ragnar pointed at the airplane and Rhodes’s eyes moved to look. When he saw who was walking down the steps, his heart stopped in his chest and the universe that he’d so carefully spun into place for himself collapsed in a pile of fire and brimstone.

  “You motherfucker,” Rhodes whispered, though there wasn’t any real emotion in his voice other than surprise as he looked at Ragnar.

  Ragnar kept his mask of calm like he always did, looking like the damn executioner at a dinner party.

  “Warned you,” he said.

  With that, he jumped up and climbed into the cab of his own truck. On his way past Redmond’s, Ragnar opened the door and pulled out Rhodes’s duffel. Before Rhodes could react, Ragnar was already stepping on the gas.

  “Bring her to the house when you two are done killing or fucking each other to death, all right?” he called, pulling out of the makeshift parking lot.

  Rhodes pushed himself off the tailgate. His knees felt wonky. Standing there in the middle of the runway stood the one woman who could spin his mind into a mess and then untangle it within seconds, only to fuck it up again. Kali Jameson. The most beautiful creature on God’s green earth.

  And the one woman he couldn’t be around anymore. Ever.

  She was holding onto a little red suitcase, with Slate, the pilot, bringing another much bigger one and her guitar case to her as well. The guitar case was still the old ratty thing Rhodes had bought her years ago, stickers plastered all over the fraying sides. Rhodes gulped.

  Her green eyes were like beacons that called to him, a siren’s song that he couldn’t deny. Of their own volition, his legs carried him to her and he only stopped when he was a few feet away. She looked like a doe in headlights for a moment, so sweet and innocent. The perfect picture of the woman he’d been willing to die for years ago. Scratch that. Was still ready to die for. Would forever be ready to die for.

  Her nose crinkled into a cute little snarl and that innocence was wiped from her eyes in a second. What was left was pure, unbridled rage. It looked so fucking good on her.

  “You,” she hissed.

  “You,” he shot back, trying to keep himself from at least visibly shaking, though he was tied up in a million knots inside.

  “Bet you didn’t expect to see me here,” Kali said after a pregnant pause.

  “Nope,” he admitted, grabbing her suitcase and her guitar case and turning around on his heel, heading toward the truck.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re taking those?”

  “To the truck.”

  “Why?” she asked, half-walking, half-running after him.

  “Because we’re going to kill each other in about two minutes and I figured Slate doesn’t want to scrub blood off his tarmac,” Rhodes shot, giving her a dirty look over his shoulder.

  She scoffed, tucking a lock of her long hair behind her ear and driving Rhodes up the wall with that tiny little movement.

  Fuck. She’s perfect.

  No shit. She’d always been perfect. To him, anyway.

  Rhodes threw the things in the back and climbed into the cab, not bothering to pretend to be a gentleman. He wasn’t and he assumed he’d never hear the end of it if he was suddenly overcome with the desire to masquerade as one. Kali sat in the passenger seat and her scent filled his nostrils, his bear flashing so close to the surface that he knew his eyes were flicking between blue and brown like he was having some sort of a shifter seizure.

  He cranked the truck into gear and pulled out onto the road, his mind completely vacant of any intelligent thoughts. Kali was here. Kali. His Kali. After everything that had happened…

  “What are you doing here?”

  “What do you mean? Didn’t Ragnar tell you?” she asked, looking out of the window and clearly avoiding his gaze.

  They hit the highway just then, a small stretch of decent road before they’d pull off and hit the near-impenetrable mountain roads that would eventually take them to Shifter Grove and Hamilton House.

  “Tell me what?” Rhodes asked after a small pause, putting the puzzle together and kicking himself for not realizing that his family obviously had something planned.

  No way Redmond would have let him go without one brotherly football game, or at least a very long and thorough joshing about moving to Mississippi of all places. And Rose with her tears… had everybody known?

  Of course they did. Those bastards.

  He fought the urge to smack his forehead. Stupid. If there was one thing to know about families, then it was that they’d never, ever stop meddling in your life. Even if you ran across the country to get away from it. Even if you disappeared. They would find you, they would drag you back, love you, and meddle the heck into your otherwise peaceful existence.

  The Hamiltons were clearly no different. If anything, being werebears just made them more tenacious.

  He could feel Kali’s green eyes boring into him and damn if it didn’t take every modicum of restraint within him to keep from snapping her face closer and kissing her on those full, lush lips of hers. She hadn’t lost a bit of those curves that he loved so dearly, her wide hips and delicious breasts still as inviting as ever. Her skin glowed, her mixed heritage making her look effervescent. He bet she would still look like a gem even when they were old and withered.

  Snap out of it. She’s not your mate. You can’t have her.

  Yeah, try telling that to the bear. It had almost killed him to leave last time and now she was here. He couldn’t be held responsible for what he would do.

  But Ragnar could. Glowering, he kept his eyes on the road, pulling onto the narrower mountain and forest paths now.

  “You mean to tell me he didn’t tell you about the deal?”

  “What deal?”

  “He called in his favor,” she said, her voice dropping.

  That made Ragnar look up, meeting her gaze. He should have been surprised, but he really wasn’t. That sounded like Ragnar all right. Success at all costs. Rhodes had to guess that this time, he was the mission.

  “He had no right to do that. I’m the one who owes him, not you.”

  “Bullshit, it’s me as much as you. And it’s not like you’d say no to anything he needed anyway. He’s your brother.”

  “Yeah? Right now it doesn’t much feel like it,” Rhodes snorted, feeling his muscles tense up.

  Kali was so close. Her scent permeated his pores and his whole body beat in tune with hers. He could hear her heartbeat, and every breath she took drove him straight toward heaven and hell at equal speeds.

&nb
sp; There was another pause, during which he strictly kept his eyes away from her. Rhodes wasn’t sure why he was driving her to the house. Spirits above, the longer she stayed, the harder it would be to leave again. And he knew he had to leave. There could be no happily ever after for them. No kids, picket fences, or romantic nights. No nothing. That had gone out the window when…

  Fuck.

  “What does he need you to do?” he asked again, forcing some firmness into his voice to make her talk.

  “It’s what you need me to do,” she said, and he could hear the smirk on her lips.

  That maddening smirk could only be brushed away if he bit her lower lip and made her moan. Grinding his teeth together, Rhodes willed his erection to stop fucking around. He couldn’t get tied up in this woman again.

  “What do I need you to do, then?”

  “You need me to marry you. And I will.”

  Okay, that was it. Rhodes’s official limit for bullshit had been reached. He slammed down on the brakes so hard that Kali lurched forward and instinctively, he put a hand out to catch her. His reaction speed was faster than the seatbelt and he pressed her back into the seat, undoing the buckle on his own and turning to face her, fire in his eyes.

  Heat traveled up his hand, burning him all over. He pulled his hand away like he’d just gotten bitten, but the warmth stayed, milling around him like a waiting predator.

  “What the fuck did you say?!”

  Bad choice of words.

  “You heard me,” she said, all that sweetness he knew in her tucked away somewhere, replaced by the fighter he hadn’t known half as well but loved with equal ferocity.

  “Why the hell would you do that? And why would I need that?”

  “I don’t know. It’s your crazy family! Ragnar said that your uncle gave you guys the house, but only if all of you got married in a year. And no one would marry your stupid ass anyway, aside from apparently my even dumber ass!”

  She looked so cute when she was steaming angry. Rhodes had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from kissing the stupid right off of her lips.