Bear The Blaze (Firebear Brides 3) (2 page)

That girl of his must be a good influence on him,
Ragnar thought with grim amusement.

They rattled down the road toward the big house and like every time, Ragnar couldn’t take his eyes off of it. It was nothing short of magnificent. The old structure still stood proudly, showing its gothic lines and intricate but clean architecture. It felt more like home than any other place had. That was probably the reason why all the Hamilton brothers had gotten so adept at picking up and moving by now. Nothing felt right.

Except this. This feels right,
a voice inside of him said.

Pressing his lips together into a thin line, Ragnar pushed the thought from his head. There was no room for sentiment in this life, especially in a situation where the outcome of playing by someone else’s rules could easily rob him of the future he’d envisioned for himself. And it certainly didn’t include Shifter Grove.

Would getting a wife and settling down really be so bad?
that treacherous bastard inside of him wondered.

Ragnar didn’t want to answer that.

No. He was set in his ways. One little trip to Idaho couldn’t sway him, no matter how well Royce’s wife cooked, or how his bear roared with joy every time he shifted and ran down the same paths as his father had before him, or even how he seemed to fit in perfectly with the beat of living here. No way in hell was Ragnar Hamilton going to change his mind and becoming a country bear.

Now if only the whole damn town didn’t feel exactly like it was the one place he was meant to be for the rest of his days, all his plans would come together a lot easier.
 

CHAPTER TWO

Abigail

Abigail Ramirez was sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Working in the garage of one of the busiest fire departments in the whole country, she was constantly worn ragged. If it wasn’t budget cuts, then it was restructuring, and if it wasn’t new management, then it was a national emergency that simply
had
to break all of her damn trucks.

Blowing one of her long, wavy strands of chestnut hair out of her face, she climbed out from underneath truck seventy-two, or “Old Bell” as they called her. The name came from the fact that it still had one of those old-school bells on it that firemen used to ring when driving through town to a site.

It wasn’t that the truck herself was so old, but at one point in a campaign to make the fire department more accessible to the public, one of the trucks had been fitted with “crowd pleasing” elements. Like the bell. And then, it was sort of discarded along with a bunch of other perfectly reasonable hardware. Which wasn’t very rare those days.

All of that drove Abigail crazy, or at least added healthily to it.

“Working on that old clunker again?” Gerard queried, sitting outside the garage on an overturned bucket and smoking a cigarette.

The man had been with the department
f
or ten years and he still didn’t understand the irony of being a firefighter with a two pack-a-day habit.

Wiping sweat from her brow, Abigail nodded morosely, kicking another bucket over and taking a seat as well.

“Yeah. Redmond called and asked me if I could fix her up. Apparently he’s buying it for a reasonable price. No wonder too, there’s never a decent truck to buy anymore. And don’t start with me. I’m telling you, she’s fine. Just needs some tender love and affection,” Abigail said, raising her hand before Gerard could object.

He grinned and shrugged. With a
harrumph
, Abigail continued. “Seems he’s starting up a new department somewhere in horse-ass, Idaho. Can you believe that? Leaving all of this for Idaho!” Abigail grumbled good-naturedly, looking around her.

Well, it wasn’t much to look at, really. Strip away the bland architecture and the smoke and the dust, and Los Angeles was simply a pile of near-desert and a couple of palm trees on the shores of an ocean. Sure, it might have sounded impressive, but there was only so much eternal sunshine a girl could take before she soured from it all.

“Hmm? Well, I can understand,” Gerard said, exhaling trails of smoke. “You go somewhere where you’re closer to nature. Less people, less noise, less work, which I think both of us would appreciate. Hell, less trouble. Sounds good to me. I wouldn’t mind settling down somewhere and being part of a community,” Gerard mused, grinning wistfully.

Abigail tossed an oily rag at him, which he caught easily.

“How about we work first and daydream later, huh? How does that sound?”

“You’re just pouting because your buddy left,” Gerard quipped, standing up and putting the cigarette butt out. “Come on, sunshine, enjoy the sunshine!”

He walked past her and into the big garage riddled with defunct and still-functioning hardware, climbing up to check the water tanks on Old Bell. Abigail watched him pass her by, resting her elbows on her knees and smearing a smudge on her hand.

He’s not wrong,
she thought glumly.

Gerard wasn’t the only one intrigued by the unknown. Redmond Hamilton had been one of her closest friends before he left. She’d been working in the fire department for little over five years now, choosing the work back during the recession because there was nothing better to take at that point, and staying because she loved the crew. It was mostly men, raucous and macho, but they treated her like a little sister and she never felt like any less on the team than the rest of the firefighters.

She kept their fleet of trucks and other tools in great shape and was rewarded with a steady paycheck, friends, camaraderie, and stability. But one by one, her friends were leaving, striking out on their own. Some were settling down, some were transferring, and some, like Redmond, were going so damn far that it seemed implausible that she’d ever see them again, except for maybe an awkward reunion once every ten years.

Sighing, Abigail shook her head, digesting the situation. She didn’t love it half as much as she used to, that was for sure. Even if the work hadn’t changed, she had. In a group of firefighters, she was both surrounded by masculinity and at the same time completely cut off from it. Combining her group of friends—all buff firefighters and a good many of them shifters—and her job as a mechanic left her surprisingly few dating options. It hadn’t bothered her much until everyone else seemed to be pairing up. Even Redmond, the biggest playboy she had known, had somehow been locked down.

Funny how change could make a person reconsider their life like that.

Done with cooking in the sun, she was about to get up and go back to work when her cellphone rang in her pocket. She fished it out and checked the caller ID. Making a surprised noise, she hit accept on it.

“Hey Redmond! Checking up on me? I’m working on your truck. It should be ready in a few days,” she said, smiling as she heard the voice of one of her closest friends on the other end.

But that smile dropped a little after his next question, replaced with a dash of curiosity.

“No, I don’t have any plans for the next few weeks. Yes, I have some vacation time saved up. Wait, why are you asking me all of this?”

***

“Jesus Christ, look at that pile of nuts and bolts. How the hell did you get it through the mountain roads, Abby?” Redmond bellowed, opening his arms and scooping Abigail up in one of his trademark bear hugs as she clambered down from Old Bell’s high seat.

She grinned, returning the hug. Standing beside the big and fittingly red fire engine, she leaned on it with one hand, giving Redmond a knowing look.

“What do you mean
how
? Don’t talk about Old Bell like that. I fixed this baby up and it’s good to go, man! You should know by now that I can work my magic when needed.”

Redmond chuckled and looped an arm around her shoulder, tugging her along.

“Sure, Miss Wrench. Come on, let me introduce you to the rest of the clan,” he said casually, leading her toward the bustle of current and soon-to-be Hamiltons lined up on the porch of Hamilton House.

Abigail Ramirez needed one hard look at the house to know she liked it. It had a homey vibe, something warm and comforting about it that reminded her of her grandmother and happier times that were decidedly not in Los Angeles. Wiping her hands on her dark jeans—greasy as they usually were—she extended her hand to the first hulking figure to cross her path.

“Hamiltons, this is Abigail Ramirez. I call her a nuisance, but you can call her Abby. She’s here to help us out with our little fire engine issue,” Redmond introduced her with a flourish, wearing an easy smile on his face.

If the bastard thought that Abigail missed the look he shared with Royce for a second, he was sadly mistaken. But her attention shifted immediately when a warm paw grabbed hers. It belonged to the most gorgeous man she’d ever had the fortune of seeing, and it sent an electric shock of desire flying through her. Turning her big green eyes to the man—who was towering above her, as it seemed to be the Hamilton way—her breath got stuck in her throat. What was supposed to be a “Hello” turned into an indecipherable mewl.

He had a neat, short buzz cut and his dark brows seemed to be forever ground up in a scowl, considering the lines on his face. But right now, both those magnificent eyebrows were arched in surprise, mirroring her own. He had a tan that showed off his mouthwatering features, and it didn’t take much to notice the way his shirt clung to his hard muscles, promising one hell of a body underneath.

There were butterflies in her stomach—
what the hell!
—and her hand was getting sweaty with excitement. With her heart beating twice as fast, both she and the mystery hunk withdrew from the handshake, thoroughly stirred up, if not to say shaken.

“That’s my brother Ragnar,” Redmond announced, then turning Abigail to meet the others.

“Hey,” she managed with a wavering smile now, greeting Tiana and Rose—Royce’s and Redmond’s girlfriends—and then Royce himself.

“Ah, so we get to see the elusive Miss Ramirez. The few times I’ve had a conversation with Redmond before all of this happened, he couldn’t shut up about this badass mechanic who could fix everything in the world. I assume that’s you, huh?” Royce asked with a chuckle, making Abigail clear her head a little.

Right! You’re here for a reason, not to stare wistfully in the eyes of a big cuddlebear. I mean firebear.

Gritting her teeth quietly, Abigail nodded, trying her hardest not to sneak a glance at Ragnar. With the pleasantries exchanged, the big bear of a man excused himself from the rest of the group and Abigail was left looking at his retreating back as he trundled down the stairs to check out the truck she’d brought.
Damn
, that man could draw attention to himself. Easy, fluid movements and such power packed into a delicious package—Abigail had to pinch herself to make sure she hadn’t died and gone to firebear heaven, where all the men were shirtless and every one of them looked like Ragnar.

“Man, that thing’s a piece of work,” Redmond commented wryly, leaning on the railing around the porch. “I can’t believe you got it to work.”

“Huh?” she questioned, but her brain kicked back into gear soon enough to understand that Redmond was not referring to Ragnar—though he too was a
piece of work
—but Old Bell.

“You said you needed a damn truck and I got you a damn truck. I remind you that you did not specify the details of said arrangement,” Abigail snapped, sticking her tongue out at Redmond.

Puffing out her chest, Abigail snorted, making like she was looking at her handiwork and
totally
not at the sexy man stalking around it. His tall, proud physique, wide shoulders, and the rigid way he held himself spoke of a man with conviction. And those strong arms of his spoke of a man who knew what he was doing. Despite knowing better, Abigail was entirely too curious about what he could do with her.

Redmond chuckled, exchanging another knowing look with Royce. It spoke of far more than they let on and they were doing a shitty job at hiding it from Abigail. She’d been there for a few minutes and she already knew that Royce and Redmond were plotting something. Now all that remained was to find out what exactly.

But she had a feeling she would both love and hate this plan with equal measure.