FLAME #3
“You deal with this all the time?” Smoke looks to the guys in the door, and the one in the middle shrugs and says, “Well, not the stalker thing, that’s new. But getting shot or stabbed or chased by members of a cartel? More than you would think.”
“Can we move this in the house so I can finish up the food while you all give me shit?” Willow asks as she turns and walks through the door without looking back.
Smoke and I look at each other in question, and all the other giant guys sigh and follow her into the house.
My little Fox is always in charge around here, it seems.
We follow Willow into the house, and I notice two more men sitting in the living room, waiting for us to come back.
I recognize them right away; one is her dad, and the other is the asshole from the plane.
I tense up as I see him, and Smoke does the same.
Neither of us were okay with the way that he spoke to Willow before getting on the plane, and we were not about to let it happen again.
I wonder how her dad and brothers feel about the way he treats her.
He looks over at Smoke and I, glaring at us just like we are him.
Michael looks back and forth between us, stands, and walks over to Smoke with his hand out to shake.
“Jackson, it’s good to see you again, even with the bad circumstances,” he says with a smile while he shakes Smoke’s hand.
He seems sincere about being happy to see him again, so he gets a point for that.
I’m still deciding if I’ll accept this new family for my best friend. He deserves one that wants him around.
“Good to see you too, Michael, and yeah, this is a lot to walk into, but I guess I will have to get used to it,” Smoke says as they release the handshake. Then, Michael turns to me.
“We weren’t able to properly meet last time. I’m Michael, Willow’s dad,” he says in a stern voice and gives me a hard handshake with a pointed look. I pretend not to notice the warning in his voice or show any sign of discomfort on my face as he squeezes the shit out of my hand.
The number one thing that you learn growing up in an MC is to never show weakness.
Not sure if it is because my dad is the MC President or if he can tell that I am mildly obsessed with his daughter.
Either way, how he greeted me lines up more with how I thought he would act as a mercenary.
I’m glad it’s with me, though, and not Smoke, who he seems to like.
“Good to meet you, Michael. We were in a rush last time and already interrupted your meeting. I’m Flame,” I reply as he releases the firm handshake that I was matching with just as much force.
We stare each other down for a second before he turns back to Smoke.
This is the first time I’ve “met the father” of any girl that I have been interested in, and I feel like that went pretty well, considering that I’m a tattooed mechanic that’s next in line to take over an MC.
“Jackson, this is Grey. He works at Vital,” Michael says to Smoke and gestures to the asshole sitting on the couch, who looks annoyed at first, but stands up and gives Smoke just as hard of a handshake as Michael did me.
“Grey. I’m Smoke, Willow’s brother,” Smoke says, still shaking the dick’s hand. A look of shock hits his face, then it morphs into confusion. Grey turns to Michael in question.
“He’s the son of my wife,” Michael says to him to clear the air.
Grey nods at him now that he’s in the loop.
He looks over at me in question, but I wait for him to say something first. The fucker hasn’t said one word since we walked in, and I’m not helping him out.
He can either look like a dick in front of his boss for not introducing himself, or he can suck it up and speak first. I got nothing to prove, so I don’t mind fucking with him.
After a second of tense silence while we stare each other down, he finally reaches out his and grunts, “Grey.”
“Flame,” I reply with some of the humor in my voice that I’m fighting to hold back from winning our face off.
“Fucking men are so damn dramatic all the time,” we all hear Willow mumble and watch as she turns and marches off to the kitchen, over all of the power trips that were just thrown down. Michael, John, and the triplets chuckle, while the rest of us look confused. This must be normal for her.
“She is just like Lilly,” John says as he pats Michael on the back, following Willow to the kitchen.
“Don’t get me started. But she keeps us all in check, and we need that with all of the hot heads in this family,” Michael says as he nods for us to follow.
Taking the hint, we all follow into the kitchen that is so big; even with all of the men now in the room, there is plenty of seating and standing space for those of us too wound up to settle. We all stop and watch Willow cook, not sure what it is, but it is the best thing I have ever smelled.
I’m not a cook, and neither is my dad. Home-cooked meals are something that I lost with my mom. My little Fox is just getting better and better by the second.