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

by Brighton Walsh

In my professional opinion, fighting a house fire was a hell of a lot easier than getting a four-year-old ready and out the door on time.

Meanwhile, I was the sole responsible party for a little girl I’d helped create but hadn’t known three months ago. A little girl who’d just lost her mother and was thrust into a brand-new world with strangers. A little girl who was going to weekly therapy sessions in hopes of helping her work through the trauma she’d experienced in her short life.

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.”

We were both still floundering. The difference, though, was that I was supposed to have my shit together. I was the adult in this situation, and she was just a scared little girl who was looking to me to make everything better.

I stared down at her—at this tiny little peanut I was somehow in charge of. And though I’d been at it for months, I was still in over my head, screwing it up day after day. Every night, I promised myself tomorrow would be the day I finally got it right, knowing deep down I was nowhere near the father she needed.

Normally, when I’d already been in a place for six weeks, I started to get the itch. That ever-present hum under my skin that encouraged me to move—to flee, if I was being honest. I’d lived a lot of places in my twenty-eight years, and I’d never, without exception, been drawn to actually stay.

And honest to god, if I’d had a gun held to my head, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you a single thing about who had stepped down from the passenger side. 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 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. “You did real good this time, Universe,” I murmured. “I forgive you for ruining my Marrakesh scarves.”

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.

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.

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.

In Chicago, fire chief duties had meant coordinating multi-alarm fire responses, handling arson investigations, and fielding press conferences at a moment’s notice. Here in Starlight Cove? It meant chasing down a raccoon that broke in to the station’s snack stash, approving marshmallow-roasting proximity limits at the annual Let It Burn Bash, and making sure the undeniably hot—and also undeniably unhinged—tourist didn’t burn down the shed she’d made a temporary home.

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?? Atlas: I haven’t been sleeping on shit. Been reading and learning from those books for years. Sutton: Can confirm. Laurel: Don’t be gross But also read the books guys Because you all seem pretty dumb when it comes to women Daddy Grump included Atlas: Thought I was getting better?

I ate a spoonful of cereal, then shuffled my deck, one brow lifting as two rogue cards flew out and landed on the coffee table. Judgment and the Three of Cups. Awakening. Transformation. Friendship and community. Well, that was loud and⁠— Before I could even finish the thought, the front door opened and in strolled Luna, my moon-worshipping landlord and part-time life guru, and the reason I’d landed in Starlight Cove in the first place. Her sister-in-law Quinn, the town’s resident doctor who made competence look like a superpower, walked in after. And last came Sutton—new to town like me, allergic to bullshit, and somehow already living out her small-town HEA with a former pro-football player built like a tank and half as talkative. My new girl gang, all assembled.

She leaned toward me, eyes bright. “You like kids, right? You said you were an au pair once.” I nodded. “Sure. Love ’em. They’re just drunk adults in smaller packaging with more whimsy and tiny socks.” Sutton glanced at Luna and Quinn before returning her attention to me. “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 scoffed, my mouth dropping open. “That…” Was absolutely true. “It’s perfect!” Sutton said, eyes bright. “He’s looking for a live-in nanny—housing

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

I snapped my head toward Sutton. “Wait, Xander Steele? As in grumpy Atlas’s equally grumpy brother?” “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’d dealt with a lot of emergencies in my life—had run into collapsing buildings, cut toddlers out of crushed cars, and dragged unconscious men out of infernos. 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 looked like the kind of woman who made bad decisions on purpose just to see how much trouble they’d cause. And I was supposed to hire her? To...

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

“Mabel isn’t helping your case. She wouldn’t be my first choice as a character witness.” “Well, that’s rude—she’s a pillar of this community thanks to the pillars she offers the community, if you know what I mean.” Jesus fucking Christ. I had no choice but to know about Mabel’s pillars, since the Pleasure Palace where she housed all her stock was directly across the street.

“Please, Daddy?” Emma said. “You could help us!” 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.

Nothing to see here, boss man! Definitely not your brand-new nanny picturing her hand wrapped around your third leg. “Sorry! Wanted to get a jump on the day, you know?”

my eyes. So, in the end, I didn’t say anything at all. Just turned around and left. Walked away from the flame that was Chloe Bradshaw before it could burn me again.

in, a bright smile on her face. And Jesus, I’d thought getting some distance from her would help tamp down this uncontrollable draw I couldn’t seem to stop feeling around her. But fuck me, it had actually gotten worse. Because seeing her now, after two days without, was like jumper cables to my chest. Let alone my cock.

And those joggers? They might as well have had huge letters across the waistband reading, Here’s Your Dick in a Box for how well his substantial package was presented in them.

First—that was the hottest kiss of my life. Second—and more importantly—that was a mistake. A colossal fuckup I couldn’t afford. When Emma called for me again, I gave Chloe one last look before turning on my heel and leaving without a word. All the while, the image of her standing there—utterly wrecked by my hands and utterly confused by my actions—was burned into my brain.

“Still want to pretend that kiss didn’t mean anything, Chief?” And just like that, the bottom dropped out from under me. She didn’t wait for a response. She didn’t need to. I was sure my thoughts were written over every inch of my face. She just smiled—a little knowing and a little daring—and walked back to the table of troublemakers. All I could do was stand there and watch. I didn’t go after her. I couldn’t. Not now. Not yet. Because for the first time in years—maybe the first time in my entire life—I didn’t know what the plan was. Didn’t know my next step. Didn’t know where to go from here. All I knew was I couldn’t pretend anymore, and I was damn tired of trying.

“Can I make a wish?” “Of course. I don’t know about you, but I think wishes should happen more than once a year.” A smile swept across her face—bold and bright and vibrant—and her pure happiness stitched up a part of my heart I didn’t even know was broken. “That’s what Mommy used to say!” I felt the weight of her words settle deep inside. Warmth bloomed in my chest and only continued to grow as she decorated her muffin. She worked so hard to find the perfect balance of sprinkles and strawberry Greek yogurt disguised as frosting, her tongue poking out between her teeth as she decorated. Once she was satisfied, she studied the assortment of candles I’d set out, picking the one I’d guessed she would.

Even after a twenty-four-hour shift, he looked like sex on a stick in his uniform pants and a department tee under the coat he shrugged off. And good god. The way that T-shirt clung to him, molding around those biceps and broad shoulders and that chest I just knew would be firm and solid, should have been illegal.

“No. I don’t want you to stop.” Somehow, my cock grew even harder at her admission until it was throbbing incessantly in my jeans, desperate for her. Just like fucking always. “Good girl. Tell me what you’re reading and why it made you slip your hand between your thighs and touch that sweet little pussy.” “Oh my god,” she murmured, barely more than a breath. Definitely not something she’d intended for me to hear. Then, louder, she said, “Are you sure about this?” “Are you?” She hesitated for only a second before biting her lower lip and nodding. “The words, chaos. I need the words.” “I’m sure.”

She shifted her gaze to the side before meeting my eyes again. “It’s a romance.” “I figured as much. What about this romance made your pussy so needy you had to touch it over your shorts?” She exhaled a shaky breath, her eyes locked on mine as she swallowed. “This scene…the couple. They’re, um… They’re not supposed to be together. He’s her boss. But then, the guy finally snapped. Dragged her into a back room at their office…” “Then what?” “He told her he was tired of fighting it. That he didn’t care if he lost his job. He just needed to be inside her.” “Did he fuck her? Is that what made you wet?” “He hasn’t yet. He…he was telling her what to do. Telling her to touch herself and watching while she got herself off.”

“Which part got you hotter? How he bossed her around or that she fingered herself while he watched?” She licked her lips, her gaze darting across my face as if she couldn’t believe I was still here or that I was asking her this. That made two of us. “Both.” “Show me.” “What?” “Show me,” I said, firmer this time. “If I hadn’t interrupted, show me what you would’ve done.” “I…I don’t⁠—” “Do you need direction? You want me to tell you what to do?” A pause before a stilted nod. “The words, chaos.” “Yes,” she whispered. “I want you to tell me what to do.” I hummed low in my throat. “There’s my dirty girl. Slide your hand inside your panties. Tell me how wet you are.” “Fuck,”

Although I was quickly coming to realize that, when it came to Chloe Bradshaw? Zero was exactly how much self-control I had.

No. My nipples were no longer allowed to respond to this fuckhot man. Not when he didn’t even remember the hottest night of my life.

My heart didn’t just stutter at the touch or his soft voice. It flatlined completely. I opened my mouth to—what? Reply? Beg for a kiss? Confess that last night hadn’t been a dream for him and, yeah, we actually had done all of that? Who knew? Sure as hell not me.

That was the moment I realized I wasn’t just avoiding my feelings. I was actively trying to outsprint them. And if Xander kept looking at me the way he was—all intent and disarming—I was absolutely going to lose.

“And if Daddy Grump can do it, so can Fire Chief Growly Pants,” Laurel murmured, her focus locked on the precise painting of Atlas’s nails. “What’s a little sparkle between family?”

“Come on, Daddy Pants Growly Chief!” Emma said, earning a laugh from Laurel. And even my stoic, imposing older brother cracked a smile.

And this unicorn? She didn’t do roots. She’d made that crystal clear. She was nothing more than glitter and mayhem and impulsivity. She was temporary. Except I wasn’t thinking about the fucking unicorn. I was thinking about Chloe. I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Chloe. If it wasn’t remembering exactly what she tasted like, it was glimpses of her with my daughter. Laughing and singing and pulling my sweet, shy, broken girl out of her shell.

The worst part was she’d only been in my life for weeks, and already she had a lasting effect.

I wasn’t supposed to want her like this. And I sure as hell wasn’t supposed to notice how empty it felt in this house when she

wasn’t here. Or just how much she’d made it feel like a home. But this undeniable draw I felt to her was only physical. Just my body needing something I’d denied it for far too long. My increasingly graphic dreams were proof enough of that. Chloe was nothing more ...

He was storytelling. His words were smooth and effortless, like he wasn’t even thinking about them before they came tumbling out. It was a story about a grumpy dragon who lived alone and was lonely without even realizing it, until a smaller, sweeter dragon stumbled upon his cave. And then came a unicorn that upended their lives. Except, from the way he told the story, it didn’t seem like he thought of the unicorn as an inconvenience or a disaster. Instead, he made it sound like the visitor was a gift. And though he’d disguised this tale as one of make-believe with mystical beings, I had no doubt in my mind that he was telling our story. The story of him and Emma. And me.

Then Xander—my scowly, gruff, emotionally constipated boss who’d demanded how I should get myself off—bent his head over my feet as if in prayer and carefully painted my toenails. It was clear he was new to this—the initial crisscross on every nail before he painted over the top said as much. But he gave it as much attention as I imagined he gave fire truck inspections. He worked slowly. Precisely. Like it wasn’t just nail polish on toes, but something more. Like it mattered. Like I mattered.

“You in my hoodie? Yeah, it just might be.” “You know that’s not what I mean.” “Then what do you mean, chaos? What’s dangerous?” This. You. The way you touch me, and I forget how to breathe. You look at me, and it feels like the world disappears. The way this house has started to feel like a home—like the safest thing I’ve ever known. The way I’m starting to want to stay, when all I’ve ever done is run. But I didn’t say any of that. I couldn’t. It was too much, too soon. And it definitely didn’t belong in a space between a single dad and his nanny. So instead, I just sat there—heart and hands trembling, my foot cradled in Xander’s lap as if it were something precious. As if I were something he desperately wanted the privilege of taking care of.

This town, with its ridiculous festivals and the horny old woman I loved with my whole damn soul and these girlfriends whom I’d all but just met—save for one—yet felt like we’d been friends for a lifetime. And then there was the family I’d found—not just Lincoln and Declan and Atlas and Holly—but Emma and Xander and our little house that was starting to feel a hell of a lot like home. A home in which I never intended to stay. My chest tightened, my palms growing sweaty even in the cold February air. It was all too much, and I needed just a second to breathe. Knowing Atlas and Sutton were taking care of Emma, I headed in the opposite direction, fleeing to god knew where. But I didn’t get far before a hand on my elbow stopped me.

“Why’d you go out with him, chaos?” I asked into the otherwise unoccupied hallway. Unable to stop myself. “Why did you say yes after everything?” She glanced back at me and breathed out an incredulous laugh. “What’s ‘everything,’ Xander? The kiss you ignored? The night you’re pretending never happened? Or is it something else?”