Ignite on Contact: Brotherhood By Fire

by Jaci Burton

  “I work in labor and delivery,” Penny said. “How about you, Carmen?”

  “ER.”

  “Oh. Tough job. Admirable.”

  “So is yours. But babies are the best.”

  “I love it. I’ve been doing it ever since I graduated nursing school. I wouldn’t want to do anything else. In fact, I was just talking to Callie about her labor and delivery experience since she recently had her little boy.”

  Carmen shifted her glance to Callie. “Oh, you’re a new mom?”

  Callie nodded. “Yeah. Max was born a few months ago.”

  “How thrilling for you. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. It’s like I learn something new every day, and I’m still a little nervous.”

  “A little?” Aaron put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “She’s bought at least ten books on babies and child-rearing. She watches videos all the time. When she was pregnant we signed up for all the classes, both pregnancy and newborn.”

  Aaron looked over at Ethan. “All. The. Classes.”

  Ethan laughed. “You just have to go with it, dude. When Penny was pregnant with Byron, we did the same thing, even though she already knew everything.”

  Penny shrugged. “It’s different when you’re on the other side of the process.”

  “It really is,” Carmen said. “I don’t have kids, but my grandfather has been ill and in and out of the ER several times. You would think being an ER nurse I’d be totally calm in those situations, knowing what to expect.”

  “And you’re not,” Penny said. “Because it’s different when you’re not the one in charge, and when someone else is leading care either for you or for someone you love.”

  Carmen nodded. “Exactly.”

  “It’s the same thing being a firefighter,” Ethan said. “When you’re off duty and you see something happen, like a car accident or a fire, you want to take charge, but you can only do so much. You have to yield to the fire crew or police that arrive on scene, even though you know what needs to be done.”

  “So you’re not allowed to pitch in and help?” Carmen asked.

  Rafe had come up behind her. “No. We’re not on duty, and we’re not geared up. And it’s not our scene to work, so we have to back off.”

  Aaron nodded. “If we’re first on the scene, we can offer aid, but of course we generally don’t have the equipment to either put out a fire or extricate someone from a vehicle, so all we can do is call it in and do whatever we can to assist the victims until fire or police arrive.”

  “That must be so frustrating,” Becks said.

  “Very,” Rafe said.

  Carmen tilted her head back to look at Rafe. “Has it happened to you before?”

  “It’s happened to all of us before. We can’t just drive by an accident or a fire where no one has showed up yet. We always feel compelled to stop and see what we can do to help.”

  Carmen nodded, knowing how they all felt. “As an ER nurse, I’ve stopped a time or two when I’ve come upon an accident. But it’s not like I have the full supplies of the ER at my disposal so I can help someone who’s injured. I just do what I can to assess the situation and wait for help. I understand how you all feel.”

  Callie shifted in her chair. “The way I look at it is that whoever is in that car or who might be in that building is at least getting first responders who know something and can maybe help them right away. We might not have hoses hooked up or be able to pull them from the wreckage, but we can call it in and offer immediate assistance.”

  “And that’s pretty damn good, if you ask me,” Rafe said.

  Carmen squeezed his hand. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

  “Okay, now that you’ve all patted yourselves on the back, how about we drag our self-congratulatory asses into the house for some barbecue?”

  They all looked up to find that Jackson had come over to stand next to Rafe.

  “Oh, like you don’t feel the same way?” Rafe asked.

  “Didn’t say that. You know damn well I feel the same way. I’m just hungry, so let’s go eat.”

  Carmen couldn’t wait to dig into all the amazing-smelling food.

  “Don’t forget that we have to judge the sauces,” Becks said as they made their way into the house.

  “Oh, right. Will they tell us who made what?”

  Becks shook her head. “No. It’s a big secret. Then we vote.”

  Carmen gave Becks a look of disbelief as she opened the door and they walked inside the house. “Wait. We don’t get to know whose sauce is whose?”

  “No.”

  “Well, that’s bullshit.”

  Becks gave a commiserating look in return. “I know.”

  As Carmen entered the kitchen and saw the amazing spread of chicken and ribs and the three sauces lined up, she decided she was going to be honest.

  She supposed she had no choice, since she had no idea which sauce belonged to which brother.

  This should be interesting.

  CARMEN TRIED ALL THREE SAUCES. SHE DABBED THE first onto her ribs. It was bold, with just a touch of vinegar flavor. The second was sweet, with a honey and brown sugar flavor, and was delicious with the chicken thighs. The third was amazing. It had a seriously spicy kick and went well with both the ribs and the chicken.

  All three of the sauces were unique and outstanding.

  She noticed Rafe eating and wandering the crowd. Watching, no doubt, to see what everyone was sampling. He did his fair share of eating, too. She saw him go inside to refill his plate twice—no, three times. Or was it four? She’d lost count. And each time he came outside, his plate had been loaded. He finally sat next to her.

  “Are you sure you’ve had enough to eat?” she asked, looking down at his plate. “What is that? Your fourth serving?”

  “Third. And I might go back for more.”

  She shook her head. “It was all delicious.”

  “And did you decide which sauce was your favorite?”

  She pulled her plate to the side as if him looking at it would reveal her thoughts. “I’m not telling you that. I have to vote.”

  He laughed. “You’re not gonna tell me?”

  “Of course not. That would be cheating.”

  “In what way is that cheating?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. But I’m still not telling you. Now go away.”

  “You want me to go away? Like I can’t even sit with you now? Do you think I’m sending you some psychic vibes that might sway your vote?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Now you’re being ridiculous.”

  “You’re the one who told me to go away.”

  “You’re the one who asked me which sauce I was voting for.” She narrowed her gaze at him, just to prove her point.

  His lips twitched.

  “I swear to God, Rafe Donovan, if you laugh at me right now, I’m dumping this plate in your lap.”

  He stood. “Okay. Fine. I’m going away.”

  As soon as Rafe left, Becks slid into the chair next to her. “Were you two fighting?”

  “He asked me what sauce I was voting for.”

  Becks gasped. “That son of a bitch.”

  “I know.” She continued to track him as he made his way to the door.

  “So what did you think of the sauces?” Becks asked.

  “I thought they were all incredibly good. And all totally different. I have no idea how I’m supposed to vote on the best one.”

  Becks sighed. “Same. One was tart, one was sweet, and one was spicy. And I loved all of them.”

  “Agreed. So basically, we’re screwed.”

  Carmen finished off the last of her chicken, dipping it in the spicy sauce, her tongue exploding with the flavor. She swallowed and took a sip of her margarita, pondering the dilemma. “We could stuff the ballot boxes.”

  “Vote for all three?”

  “Yes. Then we’d know we weren’t hurting anyone’s feelings.”

  She laughed. “That would be cheating.”


  Carmen shrugged. “I know. Which would be terrible, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Becks sipped on her drink. “But honest, right? We did like all three sauces.”

  “This is true.” Then a thought hit her. “I wonder if everyone else feels the same way, or if they all have favorites.”

  Becks grinned, catching on to Carmen’s idea.

  It didn’t take long, based on conversations with everyone there, to find that there was a consensus that everyone enjoyed all the sauces equally. And when Becks and she suggested they may want to stuff the ballot boxes, everyone thought that was a perfect plan.

  By the time plates had been tossed into the trash and all the leftover sides had been tucked away in the fridge, the votes had been cast. To keep it fair, Penny Pressman and Adrienne Smith were going to count the votes while everyone else waited outside.

  Rafe cradled his beer between his hands as he sat with Carmen. Jackson and Becks and Kal sat with them.

  “You actually look nervous,” she said.

  “I’m pretty sure I’m gonna win.”

  “In your dreams, asshole,” Kal said.

  Jackson sighed. “I feel sorry for the two of you losers.”

  “You do realize this is just a friendly contest,” Carmen said.

  Rafe looked at her as if she’d just sprouted two heads. “You didn’t grow up with my brothers and me. This is serious shit, Carmen.”

  “Seriously serious,” Jackson said.

  Becks looked over at Carmen and just shook her head.

  Carmen shrugged, at a loss to understand. “Serious barbecue sauce competition.”

  “Well, yeah,” Kal said. “We take everything we compete at as if it’s an Olympic event.”

  Growing up together must have been fun for these guys. If fun was a constant competition.

  The door slid open, and Penny and Adrienne walked out.

  Rafe took her hand. “This is it,” he said, his gaze riveted to the women.

  Adrienne grinned. “It’s a three-way tie.”

  Jackson, Kal and Rafe all looked at one another.

  “What the fuck?” Rafe asked. “How the hell could it be a tie?”

  “A tie?” Jackson asked. “What the—a tie?”

  Kal looked at everyone as if there’d been some kind of conspiracy. “Nuh-uh. You’re lying.”

  “Maybe we all liked all your sauces,” Becks said.

  Jackson narrowed his gaze. “I smell a setup.”

  Becks looked shocked. “A setup? What do you mean?”

  “I . . . don’t know.” Jackson dragged his fingers through his hair. “How the hell could there have been a tie?”

  “Does it matter?” Penny asked. “The sauces were all amazing. I know I couldn’t choose just one, so I voted for all three.”

  Penny looked at the guys as if she dared them to complain about that.

  “I did the same thing,” Callie said. “I mean, I liked them all, so I voted for all of them.”

  “Same,” Carmen said.

  Rafe frowned. “You did what? You voted for all of them?”

  “Of course. Which one was yours?”

  “The spicy one.”

  “Oh, I loved that one,” Carmen said.

  “But not enough to single it out.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I loved all of them. They were all so unique and incredibly flavorful. I just couldn’t choose, Rafe. I’m sorry.”

  “Huh. I guess that’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay,” Kal said. “Now none of us can claim to be champion.”

  Becks patted him on the back. “You poor baby. I’m sure the three of you will find something else to compete over.”

  Jackson laughed. “Probably.”

  “Likely by shift tomorrow would be my guess,” Mitchell said.

  Rafe shot a glare at Mitchell. “Hey, we’re not that competitive.”

  “Oh, you aren’t?” Callie asked. “How about the last run time? Jackson was supposed to be timing us, and instead I ended up in charge of the stopwatch so he could run against the two of you for best time.”

  “Really, Jackson?” Becks asked.

  Jackson shrugged. “It was just so I could stay in shape.”

  Rafe coughed and muttered, “Bullshit.”

  Carmen laughed and got up to go put her glass in the dishwasher. She ended up filling a tall glass with ice and water, having had enough margaritas for the night. She had to work tomorrow, so she needed to start clearing her head. She rinsed the dishes in the sink and loaded those into the dishwasher, then started cleaning off the kitchen counter and stove.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  She turned around and saw Rafe standing behind the island.

  “Cleaning.”

  “You’re a guest here. Guests don’t clean.”

  “No, I’m your girlfriend. And girlfriends pitch in to help. Since I got here late, this is me helping.”

  She turned around and continued to wipe the counters. Suddenly, a pair of arms surrounded her. Rafe kissed the side of her neck, causing goose bumps to skitter along her skin.

  “Girlfriend, huh?” he asked.

  She realized as soon as she said it that he might think it was a big deal. Or that maybe he’d react negatively. Obviously his arms around her and him kissing her neck was the opposite of a negative reaction.

  And she liked it. A lot.

  “Your charms don’t work on me when I’m cleaning,” she said, dropping her head back to lie on his shoulder.

  “They don’t?” He lightly bit down on that spot between her neck and shoulder that never failed to make her quiver.

  “No. I’m very focused right now.”

  He turned her around and kissed her, and she lost all thoughts of cleaning the kitchen. They hadn’t had much alone time tonight, and now that they were in the kitchen by themselves, and his hands were sliding with ease along her back, all she could think about was him touching her.

  She palmed the island for support while he explored her mouth with his tongue, making her dizzy and weak and desperately wishing that all these people would leave soon.

  When he broke the kiss, she was breathing heavily. She swiped her thumb across his bottom lip. “Who knew cleaning the kitchen was a form of foreplay?”

  His lips curved. “I need to get all these people to go home.”

  Happy to hear that he was on her same wavelength, she nodded. “Soon, hopefully.”

  “Yeah, real soon.”

  Jackson opened the door and came in, Becks following right behind him, so Carmen reluctantly stepped back, and Rafe helped her finish with the kitchen. Within the next hour, the party broke up and everyone left. Since Rafe and Carmen had cleaned the kitchen, Jackson, Becks and Kal had decided they’d take care of the grill and pool area.

  “I should check on my grandpa,” she said to Rafe after the others went outside to clean up.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “Thanks.”

  They walked across the lawn, and Carmen noticed a strange car in the driveway.

  “Hmm,” she said, frowning. It was after eleven.

  “One of your grandfather’s friends?” Rafe asked.

  “No. I know all their cars.”

  She unlocked the door and went inside. Other than the kitchen stove light, which Grandpa always left on for her when she was out late, all the lights were off, which typically meant he had gone to bed.

  She started toward his bedroom, but Rafe grasped her wrist.

  “Didn’t you say he had a date tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “And didn’t she pick him up?”

  “Yes.”

  Rafe looked at her, his head cocked to the side for emphasis. It took her a few seconds to comprehend what he wasn’t saying out loud.

  Then her eyes widened. “Oh. You think she’s in there with him.”

  “Probably.”

  “Huh.” He had never brought a woman over to spend the night
before. Then again, he hadn’t been feeling as spry as he’d been feeling lately, so maybe . . .

  “If he had a problem, he’d let you know, Carmen.”

  She stared at the closed door, trying to decide how intrusive to be. How intrusive she’d want her grandfather to be if the situation were reversed. He probably wouldn’t appreciate her banging on his door or just walking in on him if he was in the middle of . . .

  Well, she wasn’t going to visualize that.

  “You’re right. I’ll just leave him be. If he needs me, he’ll let me know.”

  Rafe smiled. “I imagine he’s got the situation in hand. Or elsewhere.”

  She shook her head. “Rafe.”

  Rafe took her hand and led her down the other hallway toward her bedroom.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” she asked.

  “To your bedroom. To get you naked and see if I can make you come without making you scream.”

  She followed him, giving him a look. “That seems entirely unfair.”

  “Yeah, but I’ll have to be quiet, too.”

  She could already imagine the things she’d do to him. “No matter what I do?”

  “No matter what you do.”

  One corner of her mouth lifted. “Oh, you’re on.”

  Fortunately, her bedroom was at the other end of the hall. For some reason, she found herself being more quiet than usual, which was ridiculous. If, in fact, her grandfather was busily engaged in . . . whatever, the last thing he’d be doing was listening for whatever it was she was doing.

  Still, she closed her bedroom door gently, then locked it.

  Rafe was right there, pressing her body against the door, his body aligning with hers.

  “Shouldn’t we get away from the door?”

  “I thought this was a challenge,” he said.

  “You’re mean.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m determined to win.”

  He swept his hand over her collarbone, between her breasts, cupping one and giving it a gentle massage, waking up her desire in a fury of passionate need.

  And when his hand drifted lower, lifting up the hem of her shirt, she let out a short moan.

  “Shh,” he whispered, covering her lips with his, kissing her slowly, deliberately, taking his time to explore her mouth in a way that did nothing to quell her whimpers and moans, especially since his hands continued to roam freely over her body.