Bear The Fire (Firebear Brides 4) by Anya Nowlan

CHAPTER ONE
    Rhodes
     
    “We certainly aren’t in Kansas anymore,” Rhodes noted with a lazy flick of his longish blond hair.
    “You could say that again,” Ragnar chuckled, clinking his bottle against Rhodes’s as they sat on the big porch.
    “Dry as hell here, though,” Rhodes commented wryly, looking at the alcohol-free beer Ragnar was sipping.
    Yes, he knew that his brother was a recovering alcoholic, or an obsessive addict as Ragnar himself liked to put it. But it seemed like at least one of the younger Hamilton brothers had arrived in a good place in his life. That was more than Rhodes could say for himself. With an unsaid expletive twisting his lips, he took a big gulp of his beer and slouched back in the seat, almost glaring at the vibrant sunset.
    “Cut the shit, Rhodes. You don’t want to talk about weather. So tell me, what made you come back?” Ragnar asked.
    Rhodes had managed to dance around that topic for days now. He’d come to Hamilton House, nestled in the foothills of eastern Idaho, near Shifter Grove, thinking that he could just breeze through the visit. No muss, no fuss, get the family off his back, and get going. But that did not appear to be the case. For two days he’d managed to avoid any topic more serious than “Who does your hair?” and “How’s the surfing in Hawaii?” but Ragnar had him cornered now. Without any other member of the Hamilton clan around, Rhodes couldn’t pretend to dodge anymore. Ragnar saw through him too easily for that.
    “Your girlfriend asked me very nicely,” Rhodes said, winking at Ragnar.
    The steely expression he got in return made him re-evaluate his choices in the conversation and clear his throat.
    No poking fun at the life mate. All right.
    For Ragnar, he would behave. Everyone else was up for grabs, though.
    “All right, all right. It’s partially true. Abigail got me on the phone and told me that Idaho was burning down right around her or something and that you cubs needed my helpful, brotherly hand.”
    “And?” Ragnar pried.
    “And I got fired anyway, so I figured what the hell,” Rhodes added dryly, feeling his throat close up a little.
    He took a deep swig and the beer went down easy, like the two bottles before it. It did nothing to ease the sting, though. He was bitterly aware of the fact that his expression had been twisted ever since he stepped off the damn airplane, and nothing could unscrew him other than reckless abandon in the fine company of some hard liquor.
    “What got you fired?” Ragnar asked, no judgment in his voice.
    Rhodes liked that about Ragnar. Royce would have given him a stern look and Redmond would have launched into a series of unfortunate jabs at his lack of qualification to be a firebear that would eventually end up in a friendly, if heated, tussle. But Ragnar listened. Not that it would matter much either way, seeing as Rhodes had no intention of sticking around for much longer.
    “Apparently I don’t respect my own life and safety,” he said, smirking.
    “Call the press, I think we need to make a special announcement,” Ragnar said, rolling his eyes. “Wasn’t that obvious from the last two jobs you got fired from?”
    “Three,” Rhodes corrected. “I was in Wisconsin for a while too.”
    “Never did trust those cheese-loving yuppies, did you?” Ragnar commented with a snort, drawing a chuckle from Rhodes.
    “I guess you could say that. On Hawaii we had some fires on the small islands and they wanted to call off the jumps because it would be too dangerous. You know how it is, it’s the insurance companies talking, not the fire department. So I did one of those jumps anyway. Put out the whole fucking fire on my own. And what do I get? Fired,” he said, trying to muster some anger into his voice and failing miserably.
    Losing his job was one of the few things he really couldn’t bother getting angry about.
    “Sounds reasonable enough,” Ragnar noted glumly, in that older brother non-judging