Page 1 of Fire Me Up (Front Range Motorcycle Collective #2)

Gael

“ H ey, little brother, come help in the kitchen,” Marisol yelled. “You don’t need to clean up.”

I stared at the pile of my things around the sleeper sofa I’d been using for the past four days.

Every instinct said to tidy it, fix the chaos, make their place look presentable before guests arrived.

Even banged up and stuck on leave, I couldn’t shake the itch to manage the situation, to make things easier for everyone else.

Liv bustled in with a bowl of veggies for the table. “Just stuff it all in my room and close the door. Cash and Aiden won’t mind.”

“Maybe next time, you should have Cash and Aiden host. Your kitchen table isn’t even big enough for five.”

The doorbell rang, and Marisol rushed by, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “They’re here!”

Liv shot me a look as she started chopping cilantro. “Be nice. Cash is one of my best friends at the FRMC. They’re practically family.”

“When am I not nice?” I flashed her my most charming smile—the one that usually got me extra dessert at the firehouse.

She pointed her knife at me. “Oh! And you should know, Cash doesn’t talk unless he’s really comfortable around someone, so just be chill with him. His boyfriend Aiden does the talking.”

“Got it.”

“And no lifting random stuff with that shoulder,” Liv called.

“What would I even have to lift?”

“Yesterday I caught you flipping the sofa over! You have a gunshot wound, baby brother.”

I opened my mouth to argue. The sofa had been sagging, and someone had to fix it. Besides, my physical therapist wanted me to stay active.

Before I could defend myself, Marisol returned with two guys in tow.

The first was slim, pale-skinned, with honey-brown hair and a smile that lit up his entire face.

Behind him loomed a taller man with brown skin, covered in tattoos and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else—yet holding the other man’s hand like it was a lifeline.

“Gael, this is Aiden and Cash.” Marisol gestured to each of them in turn.

Aiden grabbed my hand and shook it enthusiastically. “Oh my god, you look exactly like Liv but with muscles!”

“Is that a compliment?” I asked.

“No idea. But it’s so nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so many stories.”

I laughed, instantly warming to his energy. “All good, I hope.”

“Only the embarrassing ones,” Liv called from the kitchen.

“Mostly they called you a workaholic,” Aiden whispered.

Cash hung back, nodding at me with a slight upturn of his lips that might have been a smile. He carried a six-pack of beer in one hand and two large containers in the other.

“Cash made dessert,” Aiden announced, taking the containers and heading to the kitchen. “He won’t admit it, but his latest thing is stress-baking. Apple empanadas tonight. And I brought my carnitas as requested.”

I raised an eyebrow. The hulking, tattooed guy with gauge earrings and a permanent scowl was into baking?

“Don’t look so surprised,” Liv said, taking the container from Aiden. “Cash is full of hidden talents.”

Cash’s expression didn’t change, but something in his posture relaxed slightly as he handed the beer to Marisol.

“Food’s ready,” Marisol announced, herding us toward the tiny dining table that was already overflowing with food. “Sit, sit!”

We crammed around the table, elbows bumping as we passed tortillas and filled our plates. I ended up wedged between Liv and Aiden, with Cash across from me and Marisol at the head of the table like the taco dictator she was.

“So, Gael,” Aiden said through a mouthful of food, “Liv tells us you’re a firefighter? That’s really cool.”

I shrugged, wincing at the pull in my shoulder. “It’s just a job.”

“Remember when he made us play rescue squad?” Marisol laughed, scooping guacamole onto her taco. “He always made me play the victim.”

“You were a dramatic victim. It added realism.”

Everyone laughed, and even Cash’s mouth twitched upward.

The food was good, the beer was cold, and for the first time in weeks, the restless itch under my skin eased. I hated feeling useless. At work, there was always a call to run, someone to help, a fire to fight. Here, all I had was too much time and no one who needed saving.

“So, how long are you on leave?” Aiden asked, reaching for another taco. “Four weeks sounds like a dream vacation.”

Cash elbowed Aiden gently, and Aiden’s eyes widened.

“Oh shit, Cash is right. That came out wrong. I mean, you got shot, and that must have been painful and traumatic. I don’t wish that on anyone.”

Cash hadn’t actually said anything at all.

I smiled at Aiden, reassuring him. “I knew what you meant. A few weeks ago, I probably would have said the same thing about days off. Now, I’d give anything to be back at work. I’m going stir-crazy.”

“Understatement of the year,” Liv groaned. “Gael doesn’t know what to do if he can’t be an action hero. So far, he’s rearranged our spice rack alphabetically so we can’t find anything—”

“It’s alphabetical. It’s literally a system for finding things.”

“Then he color-coded Marisol’s bookshelf.”

“Not a system for finding things,” Marisol interjected.

“And he started deep-cleaning the oven this morning. At 5 a.m.”

“You’re welcome for that, by the way,” I said. “When was the last time you cleaned that thing?”

“He’s driving us absolutely nuts,” Marisol said.

“A firefighter who can’t play with hoses is like a border collie with no sheep to herd,” Liv said. “All energy and nowhere to put it.”

“I’m high-energy! It’s not a flaw!”

Marisol pointed her fork at me. “Maybe you should try meditation. Or yoga! I know this great studio that—”

I groaned loudly. “Please, no. I’d be safer at Liv’s motorcycle shop.”

At the mention of the FRMC, Liv perked up, eyes lighting with the kind of inspiration that usually ended with me doing something I’d regret. “I have the perfect thing! One of our best instructors at the Collective is starting a new class tomorrow. Motorcycle maintenance basics.”

“Dylan’s doing the beginner class again?” Aiden asked excitedly. “Cash keeps telling me to join that. But let’s face it, I’m not cut out for anything involving screwdrivers and wrenches.”

“Because he doesn’t know the difference between screwdrivers and wrenches,” Liv said, and everyone burst out laughing.

“I mean, they both turn stuff,” Aiden huffed.

Cash rolled his eyes, then reached out and rubbed Aiden’s back. Aiden leaned into the touch.

“Dylan is amazing,” Liv said. “Super patient, knows everything about bikes, and he’s funny. He can make any topic fun. He might get sidetracked and tell you way more than you need to know—but in an entertaining way. You’d love him.”

“Plus, he is super handsome,” Aiden added. Cash grunted, and he added, “Not as handsome as Cash, but an easy second place.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Marisol jumped in.

“I love the idea. You need something to focus all that energy on.”

I looked around at their expectant faces. Even Cash seemed interested in my response, his dark eyes assessing.

“I don’t know the first thing about motorcycles,” I said weakly.

“That’s why it’s called a beginner class, genius,” Liv said, already pulling out her phone. “I’m texting Dylan right now to see if there’s room available.”

An orange ball of fluff leapt onto the table, narrowly missing Aiden’s plate and heading straight for the bowl of ground beef.

Bacon, my rescue cat and the world’s most food-motivated feline, had apparently decided to join taco night.

I lunged for him, hiding a wince as my shoulder protested, but Liv was faster, scooping him up before he could stick his face in Aiden’s carnitas.

“Hello, handsome boy,” Liv cooed, cradling Bacon against her chest while he fixed the abandoned taco meat with a look of pure feline betrayal. “You want to come hang out at the Collective with me tomorrow? Dylan can teach a class, and you can be our shop cat for the day.”

“He’d terrorize everyone,” I said, scratching behind his ears. “He loves knocking things off high places. No tool bench would be safe. Besides, he really doesn’t like other people.”

Bacon purred loudly, head-butting Liv’s chin. Traitor.

“He loves me,” Liv said smugly. “He knows quality people.”

“Maybe he’d like motorcycles,” Aiden suggested, wiggling his fingers for Bacon to sniff. “We could get him a tiny helmet.”

“I’m really not into motorcycles myself. They’re dangerous.” The words slipped out before I could stop them—not because I didn’t mean it, but because the last thing I wanted was to upset Liv or her friends. Still, the part of me trained to see accidents before they happened couldn’t shut up.

The silence that fell over the table was so complete I could hear Bacon’s purring. Four pairs of eyes stared at me with expressions ranging from shock to horror, like I’d just announced I kicked puppies for fun. Even Cash, who’d barely changed expression all night, looked offended.

“What?” I asked, glancing around.

Liv clutched Bacon tighter, as if protecting him from my heresy. “Tell me you didn’t just say that in my house.”

“They’re statistically much more dangerous than cars,” I said, digging myself deeper. “I’ve responded to enough motorcycle accidents to—”

“Actually,” Marisol chimed in, setting down her beer, “he has a point. If you look at the data on motorcycles versus—”

Liv clapped her hand over Marisol’s mouth, still cradling Bacon with the other. “No. We are not having stats at the dinner table. Motorcycles are a passion for both me and Cash.”

I grinned, enjoying their reactions more than I probably should have. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was blaspheming.”

“You’re in my house,” Liv said, removing her hand from Marisol’s mouth but giving her a warning look. “Eating my tacos. You show some respect.”

“They’re my tacos,” Marisol said. “I did most of the cooking. You only chopped vegetables.”

“Semantics,” Liv waved her off. “The point is, our brother has just revealed himself to be a heathen who needs education.”

Cash nodded solemnly, and Aiden translated: “Cash says ignorance can be cured, but only with proper instruction.”

I looked at Cash, who hadn’t opened his mouth. He grinned and shrugged.

“He said all that?” I asked.

“Well, he might have said you’re an asshole if you hate motorcycles, but I was trying to mediate,” Aiden said.

Cash nodded.

“Well, it’s settled,” Liv declared, finally releasing Bacon, who immediately jumped down and stationed himself strategically under the table for fallen taco debris. “Gael will be in Dylan’s class tomorrow. My brother will not remain motorcycle-illiterate on my watch.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“No,” all three of them said in unison. Even Cash shook his head.

“Fine!” I threw up my hands, already resigned. “At least it’s better than meditation.” It was easier to give in than fight them. Besides, if keeping the peace made dinner smoother for my sisters, I could play the sacrificial lamb one more time.

Marisol rolled her eyes. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to try centering your energy once in a while.”