The Live-In Temptation (Steele Brothers of Starlight Cove #2)

by Brighton Walsh

For everyone who wants to be bossed around and used by a Stern Brunch Daddy. Not carelessly. Not cruelly. But with purpose. With possession. Chief Growly Pants is ready for you.

“Sorry, peanut,” I murmured, my brow furrowed as I stared at the absolute clusterfuck that was her hair. “I don’t understand how you can go to bed with smooth hair and wake up with this.”

“Well, good morning, neighbor!” Mabel—my mom’s book club buddy, Starlight Cove’s sex toy dealer, and my too-nosy-for-her-own-damn-good neighbor—called from across the street. She wore her husband’s winter boots and a housecoat, her gray hair done up in rollers. “You’re looking a little worn down there, Chief.” “Thanks,” I muttered. I’d felt lucky when this house had come on the market at just the right time, but that had been before I’d realized who would be living across the street. I swore that woman set an alarm every morning just so she could witness my failures.

But right now, sitting here with a tally of fuckups under my belt for the day—split equally between work and home—I didn’t feel like a chief. And I sure as hell didn’t feel like much of a father.

All I felt like was a man barely holding his life together with duct tape and string, hoping no one noticed exactly how frayed the edges were.

“She was waiting up for you,” Mom said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Said she wanted to make sure Daddy got home safe.”

Starlight Cove, Maine, was one of the cutest places I’d lived in recent or even distant memory. It could have been the picturesque downtown that looked straight out of a Hallmark movie, or the fact that I could step outside my front door and hear the ocean waves crashing against the shore, or that this town was also the home to my longest-lasting friend.

And sure, it didn’t have walls per se, but it did have fairy lights. And the tapestry I’d hung above the futon really warmed up the place. Well, that and the space heater.

I loosened my grip on the crystals and fluttered open my eyes. Only to come face-to-face with a fucking inferno.

“Oh shit!” I jumped up from the floor, spinning in a circle and looking for something—anything—to smother the fire currently licking up the sheer scarf I’d bought in Marrakesh. “Oh god, oh my fuck, oh sweet sparkling Moses!”

Not when all of my attention was focused on Gruff Mr. Hottie Pants, who came stalking toward me like I’d parked in a fire lane. Damn, the Universe was working fast on this one. When I asked for more abundance in the dick department, I figured that was all I’d get. Instead, saucy Ms. Universe delivered this guy to me, who appeared to be abundant in every department—from

from his dark, shampoo-commercial hair that was tousled and yet somehow perfectly coiffed, to his piercing green eyes, those full lips, and that beard that was just enough to tickle me in all the right places. And then there was his body. Good god. Even beneath all his gear, I could see he was built. I didn’t know what sort of fitness regimen firefighters were engaging in, but apparently they’d started lifting cars in their downtime.

“Miss, I’m going to need you to step away from the shed,” he said, his tone low and gruff and commanding. So fucking commanding. And, hell yeah, I’d let him boss me around in the bedroom if he did so in that voice. Put me on my knees and tell me to open up, Daddy.

My Favorite Mistake in Uniform narrowed his gaze on me, eyeing me from head to toe. And it was only then that I realized I was out here in my fox slippers, indecently tiny pajama shorts, and a sweatshirt two sizes too big that read, Manifest this, bitch.

“What do you mean ‘more homey’?” he asked. Or barked, really. “Are you living here?” “Define ‘living’… I prefer to call it thriving.” A muscle ticked in his jaw, and it sent a shiver straight down my spine. “Are you sleeping here?” “Definitely. Well, I’m trying to anyway. Luna and the sheriff can get a little loud, if you know what I mean. And these walls aren’t exactly soundproof. Or insulated.”

Stepping around me, he poked his head into the shed, his scowl somehow deepening when he looked back at me. And just why in the ever-loving fuck did that make my pussy tingle?

He stood to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest, providing a very delectable image. Good god, this was how all quality porn should start. And I volunteered as tribute for the Starlight Cove rendition of Stop, Drop, and Rail Me.

His lips didn’t so much as twitch as he glowered down at me, and hooooo boy, I wanted that mean mug focused on me while he ordered me to come again.

He pressed his mouth into a firm line, his nostrils flaring as he gave me a slow once-over. And, yes, that look absolutely made me shiver, but I was no longer entertaining any kind of funny business with this man. Not when he was fully committed to being the villain of my cottagecore origin story.

He might’ve been an ass, but being on the receiving end of that glower and his I’m going to ruin you and you’re going to like it vibe? Ten out of ten, would recommend.

She grinned up at my mom, and my heart broke a little more. Because Atlas was right. That was how I wanted to spend my time with my daughter—reading with her and coloring with her and playing with her, instead of being swamped with laundry and cooking and cleaning and the long list of other things I’d had no idea even needed to be taken care of but now fell solely on my shoulders.

Group text with Mom, Atlas, Xander, Declan, and Lincoln 1:47 p.m. Xander: Fine. Lincoln: Thanks, I put a lot of effort into my hair this morning. Glad you noticed. Xander: I mean, fine, I’ll hire someone. You dipshit. Lincoln: Idk man. One of us went to work with some mysterious dried food on his shirt. Seems like the clear dipshit in this situation ain’t me.

Laurel: I’m sixteen not six. And I read plenty of spicy books that your mom actually keeps me stocked in. I’m fully aware of the single dad nanny trope. Xander: This isn’t a fucking single dad and nanny trope romance book. Lincoln: DUDE. You should read one! I’m not even joking. Mom hooked me up. I can’t believe we’ve been sleeping on romances this whole time. Wtf was I even doing with my life??

Chief Growly Pants, Destroyer of Ovaries, had done exactly what he’d warned. Not only had he kept an eye on me to make sure I got out of my sparkle sanctum, but he’d also tattled on me to Dad. Brady Luna’s Husband was scary, but Brady The Sheriff was something else entirely.

Sutton sat down next to me on the couch and set a charcuterie tray on the coffee table. It should absolutely not look as good as it did, considering how much cereal I’d inhaled, but I was a slut for cheese.

Luna sat in the chair across from me and leaned toward us, a smirk on her face. “And I can take the scandal.” I shimmied in my seat and rubbed my hands together, ready for the nitty-gritty. “Lay it on me.”

“Normally, I’d say Chloe is prone to exaggeration, but this time, it’s true.” Luna shrugged. “Turns out he can tolerate a lot from the woman who gives him blow jobs. Not so much from someone who leaves a path of glitter wherever she goes, like some kind of a hungover trash panda.”

“And how do you feel about firemen? You don’t mind them?” “Oh, I mind them very much.” I shot her a sly grin, memories of the dreams I’d been blessed with the past several days coming to mind. My subconscious had made Chief Grumble Buns a growler. And an absolute maniac at eating pussy. Bonus? He couldn’t talk when his mouth was already occupied, which meant he couldn’t harsh my vibe. “In the fun, sexy way, if at all possible.”

“Believe me, after your little smoke-filled flirt-a-thon, the entire town knows firemen are your kink,” Quinn said dryly.

“I believe Sutton’s talking about the same man you referred to as Mount Grumpus, God of Scowls and Silent Brooding,” Quinn said.

My brows flew up toward my hairline. “The guy who evicted me from my spa sanctuary⁠—” “It was a shed, Chloe,” Quinn interrupted with an eye roll. “—and threatened my cleansing bundle?” Sutton cleared her throat and nodded. “Yes.” I didn’t bother to hold in my bark of laughter. “We’d kill each other. Maybe literally. I definitely wouldn’t last more than a single day before he tossed my Himalayan salt lamp into the ocean and then me out the front door.”

“I think you’re being slightly dramatic,” Luna said. “If Brady survived my moon water in the coffeepot, Xander Steele can sur...

I snapped my head toward Sutton. “Wait, Xander Steele? As in grumpy Atlas’s e...

“Yes,” she said hesitantly. “But it’s not about him. It’s about Emma. That sweet little girl needs someone who’s soft and fun and magical. Someone suspiciously like you.” I tipped my nose up and sniffed. “Your compliments won’t work on me.” Quinn snorted....

“Or maybe he’d have a coronary the first time he came home to me teaching his daughter how to manifest snow days and burn down the patriarchy.”

“I love you, Chlo. You know I do. But I also love my husband’s dick, and right now, it’s holding a grudge. It’s time to GTFO.” I huffed out an incredulous laugh. “Are you seriously kicking me out for some D?”

I dropped my head back on my shoulders and groaned toward the ceiling. This was my fault, really. I’d asked the Universe for abundance, and that bitch delivered. “You are all emotionally manipulative witches. I hope you know that.”

“Now, finish your wine so we can help you pick out an outfit that says ‘reliable mayhem’ and not ‘mayhem demon.’” Well, the joke was on her, because I didn’t own any clothes like that. And I also had no intention of changing who I was for Grumpzilla. He’d take me as I was or not at all.

technically, I probably did need a job and money and, you know, a place to live or whatever more than I needed a dicking down that would rearrange my chakras and my guts.

He studied me for long moments, those obscenely muscled arms crossed over his obscenely muscled chest and that glower telling me without words to be a good girl.

“That is your briefcase? Doesn’t look like any briefcase I’ve ever seen.” “And exactly how many professional kid wranglers have you been in the company of, Chief? Boring leather briefcases aren’t gonna cut it when you’re dealing with preschoolers.”

So, instead of approaching her, I sank down onto the floor. Sitting cross-legged, I flipped open the latch of my kid dazzler kit and began rummaging around inside until I found what I needed. I pulled out the small notepad and a handful of crayons, scattering them on the floor next to me. Then, without a word, I started drawing while humming and minding my own damn business.

Now it wasn’t just his face I had to contend with—I could actually feel the waves of irritation rolling off him. Didn’t matter, though. I knew it wasn’t my job to impress Xander in this interview. My job was to win over Emma.

But nothing had prepared me for the hurricane who showed up at my front door carrying a unicorn lunch box and shooting me a grin that screamed liability. The same one I’d had to all but haul out of a flaming shed a week ago.

I’d been hoping I’d find a Mary Poppins type with a clipboard and a firm handshake. What I’d gotten instead were three failed interviews and the woman with wild blond hair, a diamond stud in her nose, and tattoos I had absolutely no business noticing who’d managed to infiltrate my fucking dreams without my permission.

she was gorgeous. Objectively speaking, of course. Mischievous eyes, untamed hair, and a mouth that was made by the devil himself.

she was sunshine chaos, a decade younger than me, and absolutely the wrong choice in every measurable way.

As soon as she turned those eyes on me, I no longer had a leg to stand on. I’d been a dad for less than three months, but I already loved this little girl more than I’d loved anything. Ever. And I knew I’d give her whatever she wanted. Chaos goblin included.

Inviting this tornado of mayhem into my life—the life I’d worked hard to keep structured and controlled and utterly predictable—was surely a mistake. But it was too late to stop it now.

He was also an early riser, apparently. Or a shower, not a grower. Or—sweet fuck—both.