Page 79 of Stick Around,
“Stop!” I bellowed, my voice so harsh I barely recognized it myself.
The man’s head snapped up, the lighter still hovering near the fuse. I closed the distance between us in three long strides and kicked the firework out of range of the lighter, sending it skittering across the ground.
I’d spent years perfecting the art of being the charming host, the guy who could smooth over any awkward situation with a joke and a smile. But there was a line and setting off explosives near a stable full of horses during fire season? That line was about ten miles back.
“What the hell are you doing?” My voice came out low and commanding, nothing like my usual tone.
“Hey man, we were just having a little fun—” the father started, his words slurring slightly. The scent of beer hung in the air around him.
I cut him off with a look that stopped his words cold.
“Fun? You think setting off illegal fireworks near a barn full of thousand-pound flight animals is fun?” I swept my arm toward the stables. “One spark on that dry grass, and we’d have a wildfire that could destroy everything in its path, including you and your family.”
The mother at least had the decency to look concerned. “We didn’t think?—”
“That’s obvious.” I fought to keep my breathing and temper even. “It’s fire season with drought conditions, and there’s a statewide ban on these types of fireworks. Not to mention there are five other occupied cabins and all of the animals you’re scaring. On top of that, the Fourth was last fucking week!”
The father’s posture shifted into defensive mode. “Look, it’s not a big deal. We’ve got it under control.”
“Under control?” I laughed, but there wasn’t a trace of humor in the sound. “You’re drunk, and you don’t even have a bucket of water or a hose nearby to put anything out should somethinghappen. And now there’s firework debris scattered all over causing a potential fire hazard.”
One of the kids, who looked to be in that awkward stage transitioning into a teenager, shuffled his feet. “We’re sorry.” At least someone was feeling ashamed.
“I need every single piece of exploded firework collected. Right now.” I pointed to the ground where bits of colored paper and cardboard were scattered. “And I need to see every other firework you have.”
The man scoffed. “You can’t make us?—”
“I can.” I pulled my phone from my back pocket. “I can call the sheriff and report illegal fireworks being set off during a burn ban. That’s a minimum fine of two thousand dollars in this area, possibly more given the proximity to a working ranch with livestock. Or...”
I paused, letting the threat hang in the air. “You can show me every remaining firework you have, clean up every scrap of debris, and be off my property within the hour.”
The father’s face flushed red. “Now wait a minute. We paid for three nights!”
“And we’ll consider refunding you for the nights you didn’t stay depending on the damage to the animals and the property, but you’re leaving. Tonight.” I crossed my arms. “The safety of our animals and our livelihood isn’t up for negotiation.”
The woman put a hand on the man’s arm. “Pete, he’s right. This was a bad idea.”
Pete looked like he wanted to argue, but something in my expression must have told him exactly how that would end. He turned to his sons. “Go get the rest of the fireworks from the cabin.”
The boys trudged off, the younger one casting a guilty look back at me.
“And the cleanup?” I nodded toward the scattered debris.
“We’ll take care of it,” the mother promised, already bending down to pick up a piece of colorful cardboard.
I watched as they began gathering the remnants, my jaw still clenched tight. The acrid smell of gunpowder hung in the air, and in the distance, I could hear the nervous whinnying from the stables. Reid and Enzo were probably there now, trying to calm the horses.
And Quinn. Moments ago, we’d been having one of the most important conversations of our lives. She had admitted that she wanted to stay, and we’d been figuring out how to make this unconventional relationship work. And now, instead of holding her close and making plans for our future, I was out here dealing with drunk people playing with fire.
Behind me, the boys returned with a crate filled with more Roman candles and something that looked alarmingly like actual dynamite. I took the crate from them, not trusting myself to speak for a moment.
The man glared at me as I picked up a few other unused fireworks they’d laid out, his eyes burning with the indignation of someone who isn’t used to being told no. This family had no idea how quickly their “fun” could have destroyed everything we’d built here.
“Is this all of it?”
They nodded, the father still fuming, the rest sheepish enough to pass for being remorseful.
“You have exactly one hour to finish cleaning up and pack your things.” I checked my watch. “At 11:15, I’ll be back to escort you off the property. If you’re not ready, I’ll be making that call to the sheriff.”
