Fire Line (The Griffith Brothers, #3)

by Maggie C. Gates

Onyx hair intertwined with snow-white streaks. Sleeves of tattoos covered both arms. She had a slice through her eyebrow and a stud dotting her nose. She was hot. And crazy.

“Sorry, cowboy. I play for money.” “Yeah?” I hooked a finger in the belt loop of her denim shorts and tugged her closer. “Well, I play for keeps.”

“Trust me, cowboy. There’s nothing sweet about me.” I smoothed my hand down the curve of her back to her hip, skirting her ass. “That’s all right. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.” I wedged my leg between her thighs. “When I eat out, it’s the main meal.”

let you lead this dance, trouble. You tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you like the gentleman you think I am.” The corners of her mouth turned up. “Take me into that back hallway and I’ll tell you when to stop. I’m not opposed to giving you a ribbon for participation.”

“Lick it up, pretty boy.” I fisted her hair at the base of her neck and yanked her head back, opening her neck. “That’s Daddy to you, trouble.”

“You shouldn’t taste this good, trouble,” he growled. A calloused hand slid down my arm, scraping against my tattoos. Each touch sent a shiver down my spine. “Whiskey and sass.” CJ sank his teeth into the side of my breast. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“Is this your weakness, beautiful?” His eyes lifted to gauge my reaction as he uncovered my other breast and pinched both nipples. “Is that what gets you to stop fighting me?” A soft laugh caught in my throat. “Who says I was fighting?”

“Should’a known you’d think fighting was flirting.”

What’s that old saying? Spare some batteries, ride a cowboy.” CJ laughed. “I’m all for saving the planet.”

“Don’t look so scared, trouble. I’ll take good care of you,”

“If this is my consolation prize for getting my ass handed to me at pool, I’d lose to you every day of my life.”

“You gonna come, cowboy?” CJ smirked. “You got the big three, but you missed the fourth.” “What’s that?” He tipped his head to the side and sucked my piercing between his teeth. “Ladies first.”

The burned shard I’d held on to the last two years fueled the embers of hate burning inside me. Hate for all the changes made without giving me a say. Hate for how everyone seemed so damn excited about building a hotel and restaurant on my land. Hate for the constant barrage of visitors traipsing over the grass, walking where they shouldn’t, and making noise at all hours of the night. Hate for the lights that dimmed the stars. The ranch was my birthplace and would be my grave. It was my solace. This land was my universe. Nothing mattered outside the fence. Not a damn thing.

Brooke snickered as she munched on a biscuit and brushed the crumbs off her baby bump. She and my brother, Ray, had married pretty quick after she got pregnant with their first child. Now, baby number two was on the way.

Bree was about to graduate high school and go off to college. Gracie spent less and less time around the ranch as her fifteen-year-old social schedule got busier and busier. Charlotte, Becks and Nate’s little girl, was starting kindergarten. Brooke and Ray’s son, Seth, had just turned two. And from the look of her blissfully happy smile as she smoothed her hand over her belly, the Griffith baby boom wasn’t slowing down anytime soon.

“I don’t go up there for topless bull riding anymore, if that’s what you’re asking.” Our middle brother, Ray, had ruined that for us when he bragged about Brooke—the newest sister-in-law—taking part in the old tradition.

I didn’t know why I assumed the worst in Chef DeRossi. Maybe it was because I assumed the worst in everyone. But he had never been anything but good to me. Great, even. His wife was the same—talented and driven as hell, but kind.

Chef DeRossi sat at the end of the table with his wife, Chef Dorsey, tucked under his arm. They were nauseatingly in love with each other.

Cassandra and Christian Griffith sat together with their daughters squished on either side of them. A man in a wheelchair was corralling a toddler on his lap and had his arm around a very pregnant woman. A red-headed woman and a girl who was her spitting image sat together. The guy seated next to them had a presence that screamed “military.” My gaze fell on the cowboy I hadn’t seen around here yet, and I froze.

“Lennon—” But my name didn’t come from Chef DeRossi this time. It came from him. The cowboy from the bar. All eyes turned to him. To CJ.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” That wasn’t the reaction I expected. Not from the guy who had wanted another drink after our tryst. “Pipe down, slugger. Ain’t nothing that serious,”

“Pleasure to meet you all.” I turned and looked at CJ. “Most of you.” He clenched his fist and let a derisive sneer slip. “Bullshit.” I narrowed my eyes. “You’d know a little something about that, wouldn’t you, cowboy?” Murmurs rose from the table as I turned and stomped toward the door. CJ’s shout caught me by surprise. “You don’t get to storm out. I’m the one who gets to storm out.” “Well, we don’t always get what we want, do we?” I snapped. Cassandra snickered. “I like her already.”

as long as Lennon Maddox was on my ranch, she was in my head. And I fucking hated it.

After a week working at The Kitchen at the Griffith Brothers Ranch, I could count on four things: death, taxes, the Griffiths sending their compliments, and CJ avoiding the restaurant at all costs.

“I hope you enjoyed your meal, Mr. Griffith,” I hissed through gritted teeth. He crossed his arms and shifted behind me, making my spine turn electric. I could practically see that stupid smirk on his face. “That pained you to say, didn’t it?”

“If you’ll excuse me, I should get back downstairs. You two enjoy the rest of your day.” A hand trailed across my lower back as I turned and faced the wall of ornery cowboy attitude. “What about me?” he prodded. “You don’t want me to enjoy my day?”

“What’s that saying? Can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen?” “You set foot in my kitchen, and you’ll be on the menu. I’m good with knives, cowboy.” He cut his eyes toward me. “I think you’re forgetting whose name is on the building, trouble. That name means something around here, and it’s one you’ll never have.” “Like I’d even want it.” “Go fuck yourself,” he hissed. “I’d say the same to you, but from the way your head is up your ass, it looks like you’re already doing a fine job of fucking yourself.”

Bright red hair had me stopping in my tracks as I hurried back to my car. The color was too specific to be coincidence. The woman was too strikingly familiar. She turned, and sharp eyes met mine. I couldn’t quite place her, but a heavy sense of déjà vu cloaked the distance between us.

There was a redhead in the lobby with a mini-me beside her, but it wasn’t the woman from the sidewalk. Maybe I had hallucinated.

Nate was the type to tell us not to play with fire. Christian was the one to manage the crisis when someone inevitably did. Ray would poke at the sparks for the thrill of it. I was the one who touched the flames, got burned, then always went back for seconds.

“Be a good girl, say my name, and beg me to let you come on my hand.” Her teeth sank into my earlobe. “Never.” The pierce of pain was sobering and arousing all at once. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you, Len. You sure you want to start eighteen hours out here, all pent up?” She retaliated by reaching between us and squeezing the outline of my granite cock. “I could say the same about you, cowboy. Don’t pretend like I’m the only one who’s all worked up.” I grunted as she gripped my dick. “You play dirty.” “Don’t try to hustle a hustler, cowboy. A girl’s gotta eat.” I pinched her nipple. “Don’t test me. I’ll get you on your knees and make you choke on my dick.” “I bite,”

“All you have to do is ask nicely and I’ll let you come,” I reminded her. “It’ll be our little secret.” Her head tipped backward, exposing her throat as she whispered unintelligible pleas to the sky. “You’re soaking these leggings, and I’m not even on your skin.” “Fuck you,” she whimpered in desperation. “Say my name, Lennon.”

Like a moth to a flame, I was drawn to her. That kind of attraction never ended well for the moth.

Bree got into her first-choice school. She’ll be going to college at NYU in the fall.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I miss her already.” “Daddy,” Bree huffed with an adoring smile at her father.

“Five years and you’re running this place? DeRossi must really like you. I mean, you’re a good cook. But I’m just saying.”

“I have earned my position. And if you’re insinuating I did it in any manner other than hard work and honing my craft, I suggest you leave my kitchen.” Julian let out a nervous laugh. “Whoa, no. I’m trying to get to know our sous chef. You don’t need to get your panties in a twist, Len.” He raised his hands in surrender. I looked him dead in the eye. “I don’t understand the joke.” He scoffed. “What do you mean?” “Well, you’re laughing, so you must think what you said is funny.” I waved my hand between us. “So, please. Explain the joke.”

“Let me be clear,” I said when the room fell silent. “You will address me as Chef Maddox every single time. We are not on a first-name basis. And if you ever make a comment like that to me or any other member of this staff again, I will personally walk you out of this building. I don’t know what kind of boys club you worked at before, but that shit doesn’t fly in my kitchen. Have I made myself clear?” “Yeah, sure,” he stammered. “Yes, Chef,” I corrected.

I set the broom against the old wooden saddle stand and paused when it creaked and swayed. The damn thing looked like it was about to fall to pieces. I cocked my head. “You remember it being that wobbly?” Brooke looked like she had been caught red-handed, and I put the pieces together. “You people are horny heathens,” I muttered, shaking my head.

“I’ll let you in on a secret.” He grinned. “What’s that?” I looked him dead in the eye. “If you disrespect the women on this ranch, you’ll have hell to pay. That includes Chef Maddox.” He sneered. “Nah. Bros before hoes. She ain’t one of them Griffiths.” “No, but I am.” He paled. “So, if I tell you to respect her, you will respect her. Or you can find another job.”

“What did you say to him?” I packed up my shit and stood shoulder to shoulder with her. “That I’m the only one who gets to bitch about you.”

“I guess we’ll get to see how much you trust me.” “I trust you as far as I can throw you,” I said as I wandered back to the front door. She reached out and squeezed my bicep. “If memory serves, you have no problem putting me where you want me.”

Sure as shit, there was a cow with pool noodles on its horns, taking a nap in the middle of the restaurant lobby.

Aww sweet Mickey

I didn’t miss the way Ray couldn’t keep his hands off Brooke whenever he wasn’t actively pushing his wheelchair.

“If you come near me, this will not end well for either of us. Leave.” That asshole smile that he used to charm the pants—and panties—off of me at the bar was back. But this time I didn’t feel the sparks. I felt the flames. We were both about to burn it all down. “Pipe down, slugger. You sure you want to add another charge to your rap sheet?”

“That tattoo on your arm is accurate. Isn’t that right, jail bird?” I swung before I could think better of it. CJ never saw it coming. My fist connected with his jaw, cracking in a swift punch.

“You’re seriously going to let a fucking murderer work for the ranch?” “Your reading comprehension skills need work, dumbass,” I snapped. “Shut up, Eleanor,” CJ hissed. “Watch your mouth,”

Once upon a time, I had gotten caught in someone else’s blaze, and I paid the price. Like the phoenix tattooed on my arm, I felt like I was cheating death over and over again. I didn’t know what my fire line was—that piece of myself I had let go of to stop the cycle of destruction.

Why are you murdering your chili?” “It’s about a boy,” Bree mouthed from her spot, catty-cornered to me. “Ah.” “It’s not about a boy,” Gracie snapped. Geez. No wonder Christian was on edge these days. Two teenagers were a nightmare and I had barely been sitting between them for thirty seconds. “Then what’s it about? Who do I get to kill?”

“I’ve been talking to this boy named Jordan, and he invited me to go to the bonfire with him on Friday night, and I got all excited, but then he invited my friend Julie too. So now I don’t want to go because he invited her after he had already asked me to go with him. And when I told him I didn’t want to go, he told me I was making a big deal out of nothing.” I made a show of mulling it over. “Grace, I think there’s only one thing you can do.” “What?” she mumbled in the most sour tone I’d ever heard as she stabbed another bean. “Change your name, move schools, and never be friends with anyone whose name starts with J.” Bree snickered, but Gracie’s cracked smile made my heart soften.

“Go anyway. Have a good time. Find some better friends while you’re there. If the J-names want to act foolish, let them. Don’t let their actions and choices get to you. Be your own person and what’s meant for you will find its way to you.” I shoveled in a bite. “And if you need to hide a body, call me.”