Fire Line (The Griffith Brothers, #3)

by Maggie C. Gates

allow me to introduce you to Chef Maddox. Lennon is my talented sous chef and will be the acting executive chef when I’m not present. Lennon, would you like to say a few words?” “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.”

Gone was the flirtatious cowboy who had fucked me in a bar hallway. Lucifer wore a white Stetson.

“Trouble always seems to find us here.”

“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.”

Just like that, my dream girl turned into a walking, talking nightmare.

A person had to date to have exes. The ranch had always been my love.

It wasn’t. Because as long as Lennon Maddox was on my ranch, she was in my head. And I fucking hated it.

My boiling contempt for CJ Griffith’s attitude turned to a gentle simmer as the scent of him chipped away at my stress.

“You and I will never be amicable,” I hissed. “So, get used to that.”

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

“If you disrespect the women on this ranch, you’ll have hell to pay. That includes Chef Maddox.”

“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.”

“That I’m the only one who gets to bitch about you.”

I’d know that Stetson anywhere. It had covered my ass when I was being fucked against the wall of a bar.

“You both think your little spats are harmless. They’re not. You two picking at each other is the spark that will start a wildfire. It doesn’t seem like it’ll affect anything until it’s all burning down. You

have to sacrifice something when you dig a fire line, but it’s necessary to keep the burn from spreading. It’s time to decide what’s worth saving: your pride or your longevity.”

“There is not a place you can hide on this ranch that I will not find you. Don’t even try to run from me.”

“Thanks for the hospitality and the heart-to-heart. But I learned long ago that I’m the only one who can protect me. I’m not falling for you, Cowboy.”

“Why are you drinking whiskey at seven in the morning?”

“What? I’m retired. It’s five o’clock somewhere. Having a little whiskey in my coffee and riding a horse isn’t drinking and driving.”

“Well, there’s your first mistake. You don’t ‘handle’ a woman, so get that out of your vocabulary. You work with each other. You learn how to read her and meet her where she is, and she’ll do the same for you. It’s a partnership.

It’s been our haven for generations. It might be hard to get used to, but I don’t think sharing our refuge is a bad thing.”

“Don’t be selfish with your peace. Other people need it too. You won’t run out.”

And as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t forget how safe I’d felt sitting beside him or the feeling of his arms wrapped around me.

I couldn’t shake the way I had wanted to fall into them and never leave.

“Do what I say, trouble. Come to the bunkhouse.” “Or what, daddy?”

“What’s that old saying?” “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes?” CJ chuckled. “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘fuck around and find out.’”

His palm was warm against mine as he brushed past me. As his boots thudded down the stairs, I looked down at the place where our hands had touch...

My choice was made the moment I locked up and walked to the parking space where I had left my car after I left the bunkhouse this morning. It was gone.

I walked closer and bent at the knees, taking in the bouquet of wildflowers tied off with a piece of twine around the stems. A bronze key dangled from the bow.

“CJ—” “You want somewhere to sleep? You’ll sleep right here.” “And where are you going to sleep?” “I usually stay on the left side, but I don’t mind sleeping on the right.”

“First you try to get me fired, then you steal my car, and now you think I’m going

to spend the night beside you and not kill you in your sleep? Get fucked.”

“To be honest, I hoped you’d be there for that last thing,” he said.

“Put your claws away. You don’t need them with me.”

“That’s fine. I don’t mind getting scratched up.” “Why are you being nice to me?” He chuckled. “Because I may have realized that I have a lot of groveling to do, and groveling while also being an ass usually doesn’t work.”

“I don’t like you.” I turned and faced him. “You and I? We’re not anywhere near good.”

“That’s fine. At least I know where I’m starting. Do y...

“You just decided to move me into your room?”

“Time to cut a fire line, right?”

“Sharing my space with you isn’t a sacrifice, trouble. Far from it.”

“Then what’s your fire line?” “My pride.”

“Admitting that maybe I was wrong. And maybe we need to go back to the beginning and try again. And that I have a lot of work to do to make up for the way I treated you.”

“I hadn’t stopped thinking about you when I came home from the bar.”

“Hadn’t stopped thinking about how much I liked your fire. The way you talked back to me. The way we fit. That push and pull.”

“We have to be quiet. Not quick. On your back.” “Demanding,”

“Not one night has gone by that I haven’t thought about your tits.”