12. Flame #2
“It’s okay. I was rushing to get the rest of my shit together and smashed my toe on the leg of my bed.
I’ve only had one cup of coffee so far, so I’m not awake yet.
Actually, the fact that I am speaking in complete sentences at all should earn me a fucking hostess of the year award right now,” she rambles as she stands up with Smoke helping her.
Seeing how delicate she is, I question how she has survived doing what she does. I saw the video, but I didn’t know she would look this breakable. What if something happens to her when she goes in with no back up?
She tries to get ahold of her wild hair and grabs it to put it over one of her shoulders. That’s when I see it: her birthmark on her jaw, just in front of her ear, that creeps a little down her neck. Smoke has the same one, and so does Griz.
I stop that train of thought there. I don’t need to think about the similarities between my best friend and the girl I’m going to marry. That would be weird.
She turns down the hall, and we follow her to the kitchen.
She grabs the coffee pot, which is almost full, and tops off a coffee cup that was sitting on the counter, almost empty.
“Do you guys want some? I can make another pot, but I don’t have cream or anything for it,” she says over her shoulder, only looking at Smoke.
That’s when I realize he hasn’t introduced me yet.
This is definitely not the smooth first meeting that I had in my head, where she falls in love with me the second that she sees me. Technically, there was falling, but not in the way that I was hoping for.
I smack him in the back of the head, and he turns to glare at me. Neither of us answer her coffee question, and she turns back around to put the coffee pot back on the warmer. I think I hear her mumble a “boys are fucking weird,” and “it’s too early for this shit.”
I glare back at Smoke, who is still staring at me, not understanding why I hit him.
When the “smart one” doesn’t catch on, I mouth “introduce me,” to him, and he looks surprised for a second before we turn back to her.
But it looks like during our quiet conversation, she decided to sit on the kitchen counter to watch us.
She smirks at us while holding her coffee cup in front of her face. It’s covering her mouth, but I can see that she’s smiling behind it as she studies how fucking strange we are acting.
I finally have a chance to take all of her in.
She’s wearing a T-shirt that says “I support local caffeine dealers” that is so loose on her it hangs off one of her shoulders and makes her look even smaller than she is.
She has cutoff jean shorts on that should be fuckin’ illegal, showing off her short but sexy toned legs and the ugliest knee high fuzzy socks that I have ever seen.
They have Harry Potter characters on them, and I fall even more in love.
I should probably get my shit together and talk to her at some point.
“This is my friend Knox, or Flame, in the club. He is going to take over as Pres when I get the VP position,” Smoke finally says. I still don’t know what to say. I’m blowing this, and I’ve only been in this house for less than 15 minutes. What am I going to tell our future kids?!
“Hi, Knox, it’s nice to meet you. The coffee question has expired, but do you want anything else to drink?
” she asks as she turns while sitting on the counter and grabs the biggest to-go cup that I have ever seen from the cabinet behind her head.
She fills it with the remaining coffee from the pot.
I haven’t heard anyone call me by my actual name in years.
I usually prefer it that way, but hearing it come out of her sexy lips is going to have to be a regular thing that is reserved only for her.
“Nice to meet you, Willow. I’m good on the coffee, though.” Why did that sound so weird? Have I lived my entire life being so fucking awkward and I never knew it? Smoke was the awkward one, not me.
She smiles at me, and anything else I was going to say to make it less weird dies on my lips as my brain malfunctions.
“Do you need help with your bags?” Smoke asks, raising an eyebrow at me, probably noticing how fucking strange I’m being.
“I already have them by the door. If it’s okay with you, though, I need to stop by Dad’s real quick.
Gig got me a new body cam for my trip so I can have a backup, and I forgot to grab it,” she says while hopping off the counter.
I almost rush over to help her so she doesn’t get hurt.
Smoke is already giving me questioning looks, trying to figure out what is wrong with me, so I stay put. Obviously the girl can hold her own.
“That’s okay with me, just tell me how to get there. Are we going to make it in time for your flight?” Smoke asks as we follow her back down the hallway that we came in and reach a door that she left open. And, damn it! We’re in her bedroom.
It’s fuckin’ massive. It has a fireplace, and a reading nook set up next to a large window with a bench in it.
She has a dark wood king-size four-post bed in the middle of the room, and I look away from it before I can picture all of the positions I plan on putting her in on that bed.
The last thing I need is for my best friend to notice that I’m hard as fuck thinking about doing dirty things to his new sister that could possibly be illegal in some countries.
Willow comes out of a walk-in closet without the crazy socks, holding a pair of red high-top converse instead. She hops up on the bed that I realize is a little too tall for her, and puts on normal socks and shoes.
“Nope, I’m taking Dad’s company plane, so they kinda have to wait for me.
I already called the pilot and let him know so they don’t worry or have to wait around for me that much.
” She hops off the bed and starts walking out of the room, and we follow her like we are fuckin’ puppies, not the 1% bikers that we are.
That much proves Smoke does care about his new sister.
He would never even offer to help Maggie, which is understandable, because she is the fucking worst. I, on the other hand, will follow this woman anywhere.
Especially because the view of her ass in those shorts while she walks makes it all worth it.
She goes to grab one of the bags that are piled on the side of the door that we didn’t notice coming in.
Before she can take a second bag, I snatch it, and Smoke grabs the last two.
She looks up and smiles at us, mumbling an embarrassed “thank you” while her lightly freckled cheeks turn that cute shade of pink again.
We walk out the door and head to Smoke’s truck.
I open the door to the front seat while grabbing the bag from her hand.
“Thanks, but I can take the back seat. You have longer legs and probably need more room,” she says while looking at her feet and not making eye contact.
Fuckin’ adorable. My little Fox is shy.
“It’s cool, Smoke will need directions,” I say, trying to get her to look up at me again so I can have those gorgeous eyes on me.
“Okay… Thanks,” she says, climbing up in the truck.
It’s lifted, so she goes to grab the door to help pull her up, but before she can, I put my hands around her small waist, lift her up, and place her on the seat.
It surprises her, because she makes this cute little squeak.
When she’s planted on the seat, she busies herself by putting on her seat belt.
“I could have gotten up myself. But thank you.” She adds the last part, I’m assuming, because she doesn’t want to be rude.
I’ve noticed in the twenty minutes that I have known this girl that she is ridiculously sweet and considerate.
Maybe it’s only being around the women at the club, but none of them are actually nice.
They can be, if you have a patch that they like, but then you hear them being absolute bitches when they think no one is listening.
“Nah, I had to have some manners. What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t help a beautiful woman to her seat?” I say with a wink and a smirk, turning around to open my own door. Damn, that was smooth. I did want to help her, but I also was not passing up an opportunity to touch her.
While I’m opening my door, Smoke catches my eye and gives me an accusatory glare. I shrug my shoulders and hop in the back. I can figure out how to talk to him later. He’s been dodging my questions, too, so he can be patient.