Chapter One FLAME
Foxx
“Are you having fun?” Banks slides next to me, a glass of lemonade in his hand. “That apple pie Honey made was the best pie I’ve ever had. Did you try it?”
I cock my head to the side and stare at him.
“Want me to get you a piece?” Banks asks, a wide smile plastered across his face.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other.
The air is filled with spices from the chili cook-off that took place an hour ago to benefit the local school’s arts program. Conversations flow into a giant stream of noise as people catch up, recounting old high school sports games and current gossip.
So much wasted energy .
And in the midst of it all, my youngest brother is up to something. This isn’t a revelation, nor is it a surprise. He’s always up to something.
In the past few weeks, I’ve picked Banks up from jail in the middle of the night. I watched him walk across the street covered in glitter—retribution for attaching stickers of his face to every surface of our brother Jess’s house. One morning, I looked out the window to witness a giant metal rooster staring at me from across the road, thanks to Banks’s handiwork and toddler-esque humor.
The guy is a menace but a predictable one. His tells are as clear as day, and right now, they’re screaming.
“I’ve socialized enough,” I say. “I’m heading home.”
“ Already ? You just got here.”
“I said I’d support the cause. I didn’t say I’d stay all afternoon.”
“But there’s still so much to do. Did you even see my calendar? And I?—”
“Why do you care what I do?” I cross my arms over my chest. I’m curious despite curiosity being against my better judgment. “I showed up. Yes, I saw your ridiculous calendar. I bought a pie. What more do you want from me?”
He points at me. “Can I have that pie, by the way? You snagged the last coconut cream.”
“ No .”
He holds up his hands. “Easy, tiger. I was kidding.” He grimaces. “ Kind of. Anyway, about you leaving …”
I look at the ceiling and sigh.
This is precisely why I avoid human interaction as much as possible. I always walk away worse for the wear. I’m pushed too far or needled too much. Things are expected of me. My time and energy become commandeered, and I’m not into that sort of behavior.
It’s not that I don’t understand the concept behind group activities—I do. I took enough psychology classes to wrap my brain around it. People need to share their experiences and feel seen. The potential for success rises when people work together. Groups allow for high-level problem-solving and cooperation.
But me? I’d rather not be seen. I don’t want to share my experiences. And I can damn well solve my own problems without someone like Banks weighing in.
“Are you listening to me?” Banks asks.
“No.”
We turn our attention to the makeshift platform beside us. Gloria, an older woman Banks befriended in one of his silly schemes, taps a microphone. She beams from center stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats,” she says, the microphone entirely too close to her teeth. She smiles at me . “It’s time for the final event—the one you’ve all been waiting for. The bachelor auction is about to begin!”
My stomach knots at the look she’s firing my way. What’s that all about? Does she think I’m Banks?
He waves at her from beside me. She looks at him, then back at me, before returning her gaze to my brother.
Yeah, Gloria. It’s this goofy-ass guy you’re after. Not me.
Chatter breaks out through the room, and women scramble to find seats. Banks and I are nearly trampled as a group of ladies makes a beeline for the front row.
“Let’s … uh, move over here,” Banks says, grabbing my elbow.
I flex my arm, and he promptly drops his hand, looking at me warily.
“Sorry,” he says.
“Good life choice,” I say.
“About that …”
Banks sidesteps Marla, a silver-haired woman pushing her walker across the floor. Tennis balls cover the feet like drag slicks. Head down and shoulders back, she leans into the turn around the corner of the stage before nearly knocking over a small child to take the center seat.
“Have fun getting auctioned off,” I say, turning to leave. “Looks like a good time.”
“Foxx, wait .”
The way he says my name, coupled with how he takes a half step back, has my instincts rippling with anticipation. Something bad is about to happen .
I square my shoulders with his. “What?”
He winces.
“I would like to welcome our four eligible bachelors on stage,” Gloria says. “First, we have Shawn Daze, the surf instructor we all know and love. Welcome, Shawn!”
Cheers ring out from around the room as the first contestant takes his spot next to Gloria.
“Next, we have Chef Miguel Cotto, the reason we all go to La Pachanga,” she says. “Welcome, Miguel!”
The applause grows louder.
Banks rocks back on his heels. “I need to tell you something.”
“Colin Hensley, the firefighter that dreams are made of, is our third bachelor,” Gloria says. “Say hello to our local hero!”
“Better hurry,” I say. “You’re next.”
“About that …”
“And, last, our final contestant. I don’t know how we got this lucky, ladies,” Gloria says. “Please welcome the one and only Foxx Carmichael!”
What ?
Cheers fill the air. Everyone in the room fixes their gaze on me. Gloria watches me expectantly.
Oh, hell no .
Banks grimaces, moving even farther away from my right hand.
Everything inside me stills. My jaw flexes, and my teeth grind so hard they hurt.
“Tell me she got us mixed up,” I say, balling my hands at my sides.
“Look, I can’t be in the auction anymore. Sara will kill me. She’s dangerous when she’s mad.”
“And I’m not?”
“Good point.” His eyes dart around the room. “Listen, Foxx, I didn’t think about it until we arrived. I can’t let my girl Gloria down, and none of our brothers can fill in. Maddox has Ashley, Moss has Brooke. Pippa would murder Jess if I volunteered him.”
“Foxx? Can you join us on stage, please?” Gloria asks, the microphone squealing in her hand. She taps on it, making it even worse. “Can someone show me how to adjust this thing?”
The entire town stares holes in my back, waiting for me to take the trail of humiliation and occupy the spot by Colin. Hushed conversations whisper through the room. I’m sure jokes are being made over coffee and coffee cake.
“ Please do this for me ,” Banks says, holding his hands before him. “I panicked, Foxx. I didn’t know what to do. You are the only one of us who’s single, and I … I panicked, Foxx .”
“You’re repeating yourself.”
“It’s for a good cause, and it’s not like you have a bursting social calendar.”
“Foxx?” Gloria asks again.
Banks grins. “You’re drawing more attention to yourself by not going up there, you know.”
I take a step toward him. “Sleep with one eye open, you little fucker.”
Instead of looking worried, he manages to look relieved.
I don’t really have a choice because, for once in his damn life, Banks is right. I’m only creating a bigger problem by resisting. The chatter among the gossips will only worsen if I duck out the back door and leave them hanging.
Banks, you’re living on borrowed time, kid.
I straighten my shirt, stand tall, and take a long, deep breath. Focus on revenge. It will be so, so sweet.
I step purposely onto the stage, carefully avoiding eye contact with the audience. My heart races as I stand next to the firefighter. He gives me a slight nod, a gesture of pity, really, before turning his attention back to the women clutching paddles with numbers written in black magic marker.
Gloria drones on and on, thanking everyone who had the tiniest hand in putting the event together. Then she gives a quick rendition of the rules. While she reads the bullet points off a sheet of paper, I exhale and finally face the crowd.
The women in my family sit at a round table near the bathroom. My mother is more entertained than she should be. Dad stands next to Jess, the only brother I really like most days, and lifts a plastic cup my way. My failure to acknowledge him results in a chuckle that he’s lucky I can’t hear. Banks stands next to Jess and gives me a thumbs-up. I level my gaze with his, unblinking.
His smile slowly fades, and his thumb falls from the air like a deflated balloon. I enjoy a smidgen of satisfaction from that.
“Let’s start the bidding on Shawn at two hundred dollars,” Gloria says. “Do I have any takers?”
Paddles are thrust into the air. It’s one of the most embarrassing things I’ve ever witnessed.
Could I just donate a large sum of money and spare us all the trouble ?
Sweat dots the nape of my neck as the bids for Shawn increase.
“One thousand dollars for Shawn! Going once, going twice—a date with Shawn is sold to Mrs. Ferguson,” Gloria says, pointing at a petite older lady with a purse embroidered with cats. “Congratulations!”
Fuck my life.
And fuck Banks’s life since we’re at it.
I turn to Gloria, lips parted to announce my benevolent donation, but the wind is knocked out of me.
What is she doing here ?
Bianca Brewer stands in the entryway, chatting with a woman holding a long roll of raffle tickets like they’re long-lost friends. Except they’re not. Bianca has never been to Kismet Beach before.
“On to Miguel,” Gloria says. “Since the last bachelor raised so much money, let’s start a bit higher this time. Do I have five hundred?”
My body catches fire as Bianca moves across the room.
Landry Security assigned me to her security detail three years ago. Despite having a binder of information before meeting her, nothing could have prepared me for the powerhouse of Bianca Elaine Brewer.
She’s five foot five with shoulder-length auburn hair. Her eyes are pieces of jade that can see right through you. She has high cheekbones, deep curves, and a cute button nose.
She fascinates me .
The woman is wildly intelligent. Watching her bring a boardroom of men to their knees is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. She’s curious and confident yet humble and kind. And she doesn’t give a damn about what she should and shouldn’t do. She does what she wants.
Unfortunately, that can’t be me.
Bianca looks up. Her green eyes shine when they connect with mine.
Shit.
“ Hey ,” she says, mouthing the word from across the room.
I struggle to remain unaffected, but the corners of my lips lift. She notices. She always finds the chink in my armor. A smile creeps over her pink pout, hitting me directly in the cock.
Get yourself together, Carmichael.
“Going once, going twice—a date with Miguel is sold to Mrs. Daniels for twelve hundred dollars!” Gloria announces.
My brows pull together as Jason, Bianca’s brother and my best friend—my only friend—enters the building. His solemn expression is replaced with amusement as he realizes what he’s about to witness.
I flash him a pointed look to watch himself. It only makes him laugh.
Maybe I don’t like him either .
“Next up is Colin,” Gloria says. “Let’s start the bidding at five hundred. Do I see six?”
Jason and Bianca take a seat in the back row. He folds his hands on his lap like he’s settling in for a show. She takes a bid paddle from the raffle ticket lady.
This is the nail in Banksy’s coffin.
“I have six,” Gloria says. “Do I see seven?”
Bianca’s eyes find mine again.
“There’s seven. Do I have eight?” Gloria asks.
Bianca lifts a brow, pressing her lips together.
What does that mean? Do you want a date with Colin?
As if she reads my mind, she raises her paddle.
I raise a brow back.
“There’s eight. Do I have nine?” Gloria asks the room.
Bianca shrugs innocently, daring me to react. But I don’t. And I won’t.
She might get under my skin like no one I’ve met before, but I refuse to cross that line.
I was the lead on her security detail for two and a half years, and for two and a half years the woman whittled away at my restraint. It’s impossible to resist her. Her little smile and the way her nose wrinkles when she’s being cheeky. Her penchant for burgers and vanilla shakes. Her perfume and her ability to wear a T-shirt and cocktail dress with the same understated elegance.
The way she says my name .
Our relationship shifted over time. It began strictly professionally before transitioning to more of a friendship. And then, during the past six months, we were toeing a line that shouldn’t be crossed.
Conversations weren’t strictly business. Smiles were exchanged when no one was looking. Our touches lingered long after contact should’ve been broken.
I wasn’t thinking of her as my boss. I was thinking about her bent over her desk. I was imagining her in my bed wearing my T-shirt. I had visions of her in my truck, her hand in mine, doing mundane tasks like running errands.
But it was harmless. It was simply a war inside me that I was winning.
And then one night changed everything. That’s the night six months ago that I asked for an immediate transfer … and I haven’t seen her privately since.
“Sold! A date with Colin to Mrs. Breckenridge for one thousand one hundred dollars.” Gloria peeks around the others and smiles at me. “I’m starting the bid on our final bachelor with a bid of my own at five hundred dollars. Do I have six hundred for Foxx?”
All eyes land on me. I’m not sure where to look. I don’t want to see my family laughing; I want to like them tomorrow. I can’t look at Banks because I’ll be tempted to leap off the stage and beat his ass right here. I don’t want to look at anyone bidding, lest they think I want them to spend their hard-earned dollars on a date with me. And I sure as hell don’t want to make eye contact with Bianca.
“Six hundred from Marla in the front,” Gloria says. “Do I have seven?”
Various paddles shoot to the ceiling. And they stay there .
Gloria laughs. “I see. Let’s go to eight hundred?” The paddles remain in the air. “Nine? One thousand? One thousand one hundred?”
What the hell is happening ?
“Fifteen hundred!” Marla grabs her walker to brace herself. “I bid fifteen hundred.”
“Okay. Sixteen hundred, anyone?” Gloria asks. “Yes! I have sixteen hundred from the lady in the back.”
Heads turn to the back of the room. Bianca sits tall in her seat, proudly waving her paddle.
I look at Jason in surprise. He shrugs as if there’s nothing he can do. I send him a silent message to stop her. But instead of intervening like I’ve seen him do countless times in both private and combat situations, he defers.
He’s helpless and at the mercy of his baby sister.
“Seventeen hundred!” Marla shouts, her voice wavering from the force of her words.
“Eighteen hundred,” Bianca fires back.
“Two thousand,” Marla says, her hands shaking. She narrows her eyes at Bianca.
Out of my periphery, I notice Banks snickering.
“Two thousand, two hundred.” Bianca’s voice is edgier than before as she stares Marla down. “I bid two thousand, two hundred dollars.”
Jason gets up and stands behind her, holding his forehead.
“Two thousand, three hundred,” Marla says.
“Twenty-five hundred.”
Heads swing from one side of the room to the other as bids volley back and forth.
Marla scoots her walker around so she’s face-to-face with Bianca. “Twenty-seven hundred.”
“Twenty-eight,” Bianca says easily.
Marla’s finger shakes as she points at her adversary. “Respect your elders, missy!” Her gaze whips to Gloria. “ Three thousand .”
“Someone stop this,” I mumble.
Bianca stands, holding her paddle in the air, and levels her gaze at Marla. “Ten thousand dollars.”
What did she just say ?
Gasps echo through the room.
“I’m sorry, hon,” Gloria says, the microphone squealing. “Did you just bid ten thousand dollars ?”
Bianca smiles sheepishly. “It’s for charity, right?”
Marla flops in her chair, defeated.
Applause breaks out as Gloria struggles through her shock, her gaze switching between Bianca and me. I feel like Gloria expects me to say something, but I have nothing to say other than what the fuck just happened ?
My head spins.
I exit the stage, ignoring curious looks from the audience as everyone gets up to leave.
I came for pie.
Pie.
What went so wrong?
My feet falter, and I stop just short of where my brother and I stood only minutes ago.
Banks.
Banks is what went wrong.
I growl into the air.
Today can’t possibly get any worse.