by Jiffy Kate
Table of Contents
FIGHTING FIRE
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
About the Authors
Books by Jiffy Kate
Fighting Fire
Copyright © 2017 Jiffy Kate
Published by Enchanted Publications
First Edition: September 2017
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors’ imaginations and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.
www.enchantedpublications.com
[email protected]
Visit the author’s website at www.jiffykate.com
Interior Design & Formatting by:
Christine Borgford, Type A Formatting
Edited by:
Nichole Strauss, Insight Editing Services
Cover Design by:
Uplifting Designs
Cover images by:
Shauna Kruse Photography
Cover Model:
BT Urella
OUR CHILDREN WANT THEIR NAMES in a book. So, here it goes. Mac, Jack, Isaiah, Georgia Rose, Jake, Wrigley, and Oliver, we’re sorry for the late dinners, fast food lunches, and weekends at home. Thank you for being understanding while we follow our dreams. We love you more than the words in this book. Promise.
Pamela, thank you for being the first, and often, the last to read our words. You also make a great travel companion, PA, and drinking buddy. But more than anything, we’re thankful for your friendship.
Pimp Team, thank you for keeping the pimp hand strong. We appreciate the time you take to read our words and give us great feedback.
Southern Belles, your support and love mean the world to us. Thank you for being our people, reading our words, and buying our books.
Nerdy Minxes who Get Shit Done, you know who you are, and your advice and support is invaluable. Thank you for being awesome.
Nichole, thank you for your insight and editing skills.
Alyssa, thank you for making a beautiful cover we can be proud of.
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None of this would be possible without amazing people surrounding us. The publishing world is vast, and at times, it’s scary, but you all make it one of the best journeys we’ve ever been on.
Contents
FIGHTING FIRE
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
About the Authors
Books by Jiffy Kate
FIRE IS A FICKLE BITCH.
The power held within its heat and flames can either create something strong and beautiful, or destroy everything in its path.
Sometimes it does both without you even realizing it.
I ADJUST THE CUFFS OF the button-up shirt I’m wearing and check myself over in the mirror. Alex and I are meeting today to discuss a business proposition. She’s also invited along an investor, which is the reason for the stiff attire.
I would’ve invited Deacon along, but he’s already told me in no uncertain terms how bad of an idea he thinks this is. I’m pretty sure he’s convinced I’m off my rocker for even entertaining the thought of going into business with Alex Collins. But I’m not letting Deacon’s opinion of someone keep me from exploring an opportunity like this. Unlike everything else in my life, this is just for me. I’ve always wanted to open a restaurant in New Orleans but Deacon was never in favor. His dream was opening Grinders in Baton Rouge. We did that. Then his dream was to have a restaurant in French Settlement. We did that. Granted, I was always on board, both restaurants are just as much my babies as they are his. My blood, sweat, and tears have gone into them. I love those restaurants. I love what we’ve built. Or had built.
When Pockets burned down, it changed things. Deacon wanted to dive right back into rebuilding, but for me, it felt like a chance to do something different, expand horizons. Alex showing up at my parents’ anniversary party with a proposal I couldn’t refuse felt like a sign. I think this could be a great venture, not just for me, but for Deacon too.
“Wow,” Dani says from the doorway, her red hair in a messy braid falling over her shoulder. Sometimes, when I’m least expecting it, like right this second, I’m struck with how happy I am that she’s here. I love her being here. I love that our clothes hang beside each other in the closet and our toothbrushes share a cup in the bathroom. I love that she leaves half eaten apples in the fridge, even though she knows when they get brown, she’s going to throw them out. I love that no matter how late I have to work, she’s here when I get home. I love that no matter how many hours I have to spend at the restaurant, she always brings me something. It might be a few cookies she decided to bake or a container of soup she made. I work at a restaurant and I’m surrounded by food, but I’m always hungry for what she whips up.
“Do I look okay?” I ask, turning around to face her, messing with my cuffs one more time. I know I sound like a girl, but I can’t help it.
She gives me a crooked smile and takes a few steps forward until she’s standing in front of me. “You’re nervous?” she asks, smoothing down the front of my shirt.
“A little,” I admit, taking a deep inhale, letting her scent fill my senses, soothing my nerves. I lean over and let my lips graze her cheek, loving the way her skin feels against mine.
Taking a tentative step back, she worries her lip between her teeth before finally asking, “have you talked to Deacon?”
She hates that we’ve been at odds with each other lately, but this is between me and him. Dani might know me and she might know Deacon, but she doesn’t know all of the history between us and this shit isn’t going to fix itself overnight.
“No. I’ve been a little busy.” My words come out clipped, but I don’t want to talk about Deacon right now. I want to have this meeting with Alex, iron out the details, and then present them to Deaco
n, making him an offer he can’t refuse.
“He’s worried about you.”
“I’m a grown ass man, Dani.”
“I know,” she says, raising an eyebrow, her tone lightening. “But you can remind me just how manly you are, if you want.”
I lunge for her, making her squeal as I wrap her up in my arms. I wish I could take her to bed, that’s all I ever really want to do, but I also want this restaurant to be a success. Not just for me, but for us. I want to always be able to take care of Dani.
When I have her in my arms like this, her green eyes shining up at me, the same words practically force their way out of my mouth every time.
Marry me.
Let me love you forever.
But she wants to take things slow. She’s said that from the day she moved to Baton Rouge. It’s why she lives at the apartment Deacon and I used to share, instead of with me at my cottage.
I wanted her to move to The Settlement, in my house, but it freaked her out. She felt like things were moving too fast. So, we compromised.
Originally, I was going to spend three nights at the cottage, on the nights I closed Pockets, and then the other four with her here at the apartment, on the nights I closed Grinders. But when Pockets burned down, I permanently moved in.
Pockets burning changed a lot of things. After Deacon was out of the woods and we knew he’d be okay, I think we all let it sink in and none of us knew what to do. It’s crazy how a place becomes more like a person over time. Deacon and I had put so much into making it a success. It was part of us.
When we realized it was gone, a piece of us left with it. But in the grand scheme of things, it was just a building. And buildings can be replaced. I’m not sure if it will be at this point. The insurance company is taking its sweet ol’ time coughing up a settlement.
“I’ve gotta get going,” I tell Dani, kissing her one last time on the lips and then her nose. “I’m gonna be late.”
When I finally push myself off her, she continues to lie in the middle of the bed.
“Cover yourself up,” I growl, scowling at her bare legs. “I can’t leave with you lookin’ like that.”
She laughs and rolls over in bed, continuing to torture me with her stare and bare legs, my shirt just barely covering her ass. I finally have to force myself out of the room.
“I’m gonna make you pay for this later,” I yell from the front door before I shut it behind me.
“I’m counting on it,” comes her reply as my foot hits the first step and I can’t stop the smile on my face.
I love that woman.
Six months ago, if you’d have told me that I’d be here, ready to love one woman for the rest of my life, I’d have told you you were crazy.
I never saw her coming.
So, maybe it’s true what they say, you find love when you least expect it.
My mama has always told me that. I know she got to where she’d worry about me, wondering if I’d ever settle down.
For a lot of parents, it’s about controlling their kids’ lives or wanting grandbabies. My mama does want grandbabies. Lots of them. But all Annie Landry truly wants is for her family to be happy.
Her life revolves around my dad, Deacon, and me. But over the years, her circle has grown. Not only does she have Cami and Tucker, who’ve been adopted members of our family for as long as I can remember, now there’s Carter. He might not be Deacon’s by blood, but he belongs in all the ways that matter. My mama and daddy love that little boy more than life itself. Dani is the most recent addition to the mix and my mama took to her the second she laid eyes on her. Amongst Annie Landry’s many talents, being a good judge of character, is one of her finer qualities. She’s always had an innate ability to zone in on people who need her the most.
The fact that Dani was pretty much wandering through life alone made my mama love her even more. I’m convinced that even if I hadn’t fallen in love with Dani, my mama would’ve adopted her for her own anyway.
I love my family.
They’re the foundation of my life—like a strong oak with sturdy branches, everyone knows it gets its strength from its roots.
Pulling up to the bar Alex asked me to meet her at, I feel a surge of nerves mixed with anticipation. Sometimes, I question myself. Am I making a good decision? My past with Alex has been sporadic, to say the least. We slept together a few times, but were never serious. I was never serious.
Deacon seems to think Alex has always had a thing for me. But I think Alex and I are cut from the same cloth. She’s ambitious, independent, and uninhibited. We got each other back in high school. It was an “I’ll scratch yours, if you scratch mine” kind of relationship. Since then, we’ve kept up with each other’s successes and stayed in touch. I’m not saying I trust her with my life or anything, but I’m willing to take a small risk for a larger gain.
Alex has the property I want. It was left to her by her grandfather. It’s prime real estate near the French Quarter. If I tried to save up my own funds to buy or lease a place like that, I’d be damn near fifty before I was able and ready to open a place of my own.
I’m definitely planning on keeping my guard up when it comes to Alex, but I’m not going to let some stupid high school crush keep me from the opportunity of a lifetime. With her building and my knowledge of owning and operating a successful restaurant, this venture should be golden.
“I thought you were going to stand me up,” Alex quips from the bar where she’s perched on a stool in a tight black, no-nonsense type skirt and a martini in hand. Her long blonde hair and long tanned legs used to be my kryptonite, until Dani. Now, all I see in my dreams, wet or otherwise, are deep green eyes and gorgeous red hair. It’s Dani’s freckles that I count when I go to sleep and her soft pink lips I wake up to every morning. She’s it for me.
“Here with bells on,” I tell her with a smirk.
“And looking quite dapper,” she adds with a quirk of an eyebrow.
I look around the bar before taking a seat on the stool next to her. “Where’s Mr. Wells?”
“He should be here any minute.” She takes another sip of her drink and checks her phone. “So, we’re really doing this?”
“I guess so,” I tell her, feeling that surge of anxiety again, but I shut it down, because I want this. A restaurant in New Orleans is something I’ve wanted for a long time. So, I’m going for it.
She pauses for a moment, smiling over the rim of her glass. “Alright,” she says with a nod. “He’ll have a Jack on the rocks.” Snapping her fingers, the bartender perks right up and starts to pour. Alex knows me well. I kind of hate that she does, but I can’t erase history.
“To us,” she says, holding her drink out toward me.
“To us,” I reply before taking a hefty drink. A little liquid courage never hurts.
AFTER PARKING MY TRUCK IN the back of Grinders, I look at the clock on my dashboard and see that I’m late for my shift.
Shit.
Deacon’s probably going to be pissed, but maybe he’ll cool off once I tell him where I’ve been. It’s a long shot, I know, but at least I’m being proactive and trying to get something going for our business.
I run my fingers through my hair and pop a mint into my mouth to mask the Jack on my breath. I only had two drinks over the period of a couple of hours but I don’t want him to accuse me of being unprofessional. He’ll have plenty of ammo to use against me soon enough.
I hate feeling like I’m betraying my brother or keeping secrets from him but he can be so close-minded and judgey sometimes. That’s why I didn’t tell him about my meeting with Alex. Of course, my mama would argue that’s my guilty conscience talking and she may be right, but I’ll never admit it.
Strolling into the restaurant, I can tell things are going well. Almost all of the booths and tables are full and the patrons and waitstaff all seem to have genuine smiles on their faces. I can only hope things are running as smoothly in the back of the restaurant as they are in the f
ront.
As I walk through the swinging door that leads to the kitchen, I’m hit with the incredible aromas coming from the down-home cooking we feature here and I remember I haven’t eaten anything since lunch, with the exception of a few peanuts at the bar with Alex.
“Hey, Joe, would you mind hookin’ me up with a burger, man?” I ask my favorite cook. After the fire at Pockets, we didn’t want our staff to be without jobs, so Deacon and I offered them jobs here at Grinders. Some accepted, some didn’t but, thankfully, our head cook, Joe, did. It just wouldn’t be the same in the kitchen without him.
He gives me a wink. “Sure thing, boss.” He knows I hate it when he calls me that. Even if it’s true, the guy is older than my parents and it just feels weird.
As I wait for my food, I look around the kitchen area to make sure everything is as it should be and give out a few reminders to some of the servers from Pockets. Grinders isn’t a fancy establishment by any means but it’s not as casual as Pockets was, so it’s been an adjustment to those who just transferred.
Joe hands me my burger and it’s nothing short of perfection. Big, juicy, and smothered with crisp bacon, my mouth waters just looking at it. Thank fuck he wrapped it in brown paper because we both know I’m about to make a mess of myself. The messier the burger, the better it tastes, I always say.
I’m just about to take my first bite when my brother busts through the door.
“It’s about fucking time you got here. Where the hell have you been? You couldn’t come tell me you were here before you filled your face, asshole?”
Turning to face Deacon, I hold my hands up in surrender, making my empty stomach sad that it’s dinner is so far away.
“Chill out, Deke. I’m hungry!”
“I really don’t give a shit, Micah. Get in the office. Now.”
I grab some napkins and storm out of the kitchen, walking down the hallway into the office we share. I fucking hate it when he treats me like a kid instead of his business partner, especially in front of our employees. It’s like there’s a lack of mutual respect. The high I was feeling earlier is officially gone, replaced with anger and stubbornness. It’s going to be a long, damn night.