16. Chapter 13
Mari
“ I still can’t believe you invited him for dinner,” I grumbled, setting the knives and forks next to the plates on the table. I leaned over Al, being careful not to knock over his cold beer.
“Chance is a part of the Knock’s family now, Mari,” Nan snapped, the wooden spatula clattering on the edge of the pot as she turned to face me. “It’s about time you started acting like it.”
“She’s right, darlin’,” Al chimed, drumming his fingernails against his stubby.
“Stay out of this, Al,” I groaned, letting my head fall back on the cabinets above the bench I was leaning on.
“Chance is a nice young fella,” he replied, completely ignoring my protest. “And is now an integral part of the team, serving as my replacement. I expect you and everyone else to give him the same courtesy and respect as you did me.”
Nan and Al shared a knowing look and I sighed.
So this conversation has already been had outside my presence. Game over.
“Respect is earned, not given.” I crossed my arms.
“Then let the poor lad earn it, Marilyn,” Al growled, thunking his beer can on the table. “Not everyone has been surrounded by people who love them for their whole lives. It’s not up to you to decide who deserves it and who doesn’t.”
I opened my mouth to protest but he held a hand up at me.
“You don’t have to love him, but you need to find a way to get along with him because he’s sure as hell been trying to find a way to get along with everyone—including you.”
A knock rattled the door as Al finished.
My face flushed when I remembered exactly how he’d proven Al right with what he’d said just a few hours ago.
“ Don’t think I haven’t noticed the little rat .”
Al sipped down the last of his beer and put it on top of the pyramid of cans he’d started. “I mean this in the most loving way possible, Mari. Pull your head in and step up to be the leader I know you are.” With a pat on my cheek, he headed for the door.
I huffed, turning to find Nan smiling over her delicious-smelling pot.
“Did you and Al scheme against me again?”
“Of course not, dear,” she laughed and her eyes softened. “But sometimes I need a little help getting through to you.”
“Getting through to her about what?” JJ bounced into the room, crossing straight towards Nan. “Getting a sauna in the gym?”
He planted a kiss on Nan’s cheek, to which she patted his in return, before heading straight to the fridge.
“For the last fucking time, JJ—”
“Definitely not, Jaxon,” Nan politely interrupted. “We can’t trust your history with public nudity.”
“Exactly and—” My eyes narrowed. “What the fuck are you wearing?” I gestured to the casual white button up he had on and the jeans that followed.
“Language, Marilyn,” Nan scolded.
I held my hands up in surrender and quirked a brow at JJ, question still unanswered.
“Ask that little shit out there—”
“Ask me about what?” A deep, rasped voice came from over my shoulder. I turned, finding those blue eyes already on me.
“Ask him about why I’m wearing this dumb shit to family dinner!
” JJ whined, though I could barely hear him in the face of what was in front of me.
A forest green linen button up hung off Chance’s divine frame.
The arm cuffs hugged his strong biceps, and the top three buttons were undone, revealing a smooth column of his upper chest. Light-wash denim fell from his waist, loose but tight in all the right spots.
“I think you both look lovely,” Nan crooned.
Chance’s eyes were still on me when the corners of his mouth tipped upwards slightly. “Back at you, Marilyn,” he replied, though he wasn’t looking at Nan.
With heat starting to creep up my neck, I returned to the conversation.
“I’m just surprised you got him to wear actual clothes.” Al patted Chance on the shoulder before moving past us.
“Hey! I wear actual clothes!” JJ cried.
“When was the last time?” Al asked.
JJ drew breath to speak when Nan spoke first.
“When you weren’t trying to bed some poor girl.” She raised her eyebrows for emphasis.
A burning sensation tickled my neck and I turned to find Chance’s eyes still on me.
“Sunny.” He flicked his chin up. “Nice shorts.”
I frowned down at my satin red pyjama shorts—shorts that were way too short for the dinner everyone was apparently dressed to attend.
“Riordan.” I rolled my eyes. “Nice ass-kissing ‘fit’.”
He tipped his head back in a laugh, the column of his throat moving with the sound. Extending a hand out, his large palm was wrapped around the side of a tray I hadn’t even noticed. “If you like the fit , you’re sure to love my ass-kissing brownies.” He smirked and pushed the tray into my hands.
Gently sidestepping me, he made his way to Nan and planted a kiss on her cheek, and she tenderly squeezed his arm in return.
“It smells fantastic in here.” He inhaled deeply over Nan’s steaming pot, the rising heat pushing more colour into his lips. “Is there anything I can help you with, Marilyn?”
“Don’t be silly.” She shooed him out of the kitchen and steered him towards the set table. “I’ve got it, dear.”
“You let me know,” he said, smiling up at her as he sat in the chair next to JJ’s.
I scoffed and Chance winked at me.
Ass-kissing indeed.
“Ignore her. She’s always been hopeless in the kitchen,” Nan said, glaring over her shoulder at me with a look that said, ‘ We just talked about this, Marilyn, and if you don’t do something about it, we’ll be talking about it later too ’.
“You got that right,” JJ said, getting up to grab another beer from the fridge.
Nan whirled up the towel and whipped his ass with it.
“Ow! What was that for?!”
“Manners! We have company!” she scolded, finger pointing and everything.
I swallowed a laugh.
“Ugh! Fine!” He threw his hands up in the air. “Would any of you like a drink?”
“Actually—” Chance started.
“Not you. I’m wearing this shit because of you—that’s enough for one day,” JJ cut in, pulling his singular beer out of the fridge, followed by a sparkling water can.
“You held up your end of the bargain, I’ll hold up mine. Stop whining,” Chance replied, catching the can JJ threw him.
“Not having a beer?” I asked, sliding into the only available chair that wasn’t next to him but across from him.
“Teaching tomorrow morning—remember?”
“Of course. How could I forget?”
Al cleared his throat. “So, how’re you finding things at the gym, mate? Anything we can help you with?”
Those blue eyes flickered to mine for a beat before returning to Al’s. “Nah, everything’s great.” His eyes bounced back to mine again. “Everyone’s real welcoming and patient with me.”
“I’d hardly think they’d need to be patient with someone of your expertise,” Al replied.
“You’d be surprised,” JJ snorted.
Though Chance rolled his eyes, his face was soft and content. Gone was the man I saw on the mats today during class—tucked away for another time was the fighter inside of him.
“You’re the only one we have to be patient with around here, JJ,” I retorted.
All eyes snapped up to me, Al’s expression gleaming with approval. That familiar burning sensation trickled up my neck and I didn’t have to look to know Chance’s gaze was on me. I dared a glance, just one, and lost myself instantly in those ocean blues.
How is this even happening?
They were brighter—maybe it was the colour of his shirt? That blue roamed shamelessly over my face, studying me with blatant curiosity.
JJ grumbled something about everyone coming after him when Nan slipped off her apron. Pushing out of my chair and away from the conversation, I grabbed the oven mitts and put my hands through them.
“I got it, Nan,” I said, picking up the hefty pot of goodness she’d been cooking.
“Thank you, dear.” She patted my shoulder before heading to the fridge for what I assumed would be her bottle of wine.
“Any fights coming up?” Al nodded his thanks at Nan, who had a beer for him in one hand, her wine in the other.
Chance pursed his lips. “Potentially. Things are in talks at the moment,” he replied, sipping from his water.
“Pfft,” JJ scoffed. “Tell them the truth, man.”
“What truth?” I asked.
Chance shot our friend a look that had thanks asshole written all over it.
“My next fight should be a title shot,” he said casually—as if it wasn’t a big fucking deal.
“A title shot? Against Randy Rager?” I asked.
After Chance had taunted me with his little ‘google it’ comment, I’d made myself pretty fucking aware of who was what in that world—his world.
Randy Rager was the current champion in the light heavyweight division with an impressive record to match it.
He was known for playing dirty, both in and out of the cage, and turning MMA cage fights into bar fights—using any and every rule possible to his advantage and brutalising his opponents.
Not to mention, outside of the cage, he appeared to have been caught in some really sketchy shit.
“The one and only,” Chance grumbled, unimpressed.
“God, I’d love to watch that asshole cop a fucking flog—”
“Watch your mouth, Jaxon,” Nan warned, slipping into her usual seat at head of the table.
“It’s quite well-warranted, Marilyn. Rager isn’t a very nice person,” Al cut in.
“Understatement of the century,” Chance retorted, shaking his head slightly before setting his eyes on Nan. “What’s for dinner, Marilyn?”
~
“I feel like a stuffed pig,” JJ moaned, leaning back in his chair. “Your cooking never fails me, Nana Maz.”
Nan waved him off, though I saw the compliment sink in. If there was one thing she was unconditionally proud of—it was her cooking. Rightfully so.
“Anytime, dear. You know you’re always welcome at our table.” She pressed a kiss to JJ’s cheek as she stood and began clearing plates.
“I got it, Marilyn.” Chance stood, towering over the table, and extended a hand. “You sit down.”
Nan’s cheeks blushed at the act of kindness before her eyes found mine. Her eyebrows flicked up above her glasses. Help him .
Mine scrunched. No, I did the dishes last week .
Her eyes narrowed on me—I had zero chance of winning this argument.
“You wash, I’ll dry, Riordan,” I sighed as Nan grinned triumphantly. Al laughed, having caught the whole exchange.
“I’d really like to go over the details of the anniversary party with you while I’m here, Marilyn.” Al smirked my way before gesturing for Nan to follow him. Gus greedily sniffed around the table. Deeming the floor clean from scraps, he skittered off to follow the oldies.
“Right, well I have places to be,” JJ said, tucking his chair in, head buried in his phone, no doubt in talks of a booty call with some poor woman.
Chance put the dishes in the sink, turning the hot water on and pushing the plug into the drain. He turned to our friend, hand extended while the other squirted soap into the sink.
“Keys,” he demanded.
“Wha—no way. I need to get myself to the other side of Soggla. You can walk your lazy ass home, thank you.”
“Keys,” Chance said again, flicking his fingers upwards.
“No! No way am I giving up this call over just because you don’t want to walk the two kays home,” he grouched, sending pleading glances my way.
I held my hands up, tea towel in one—no way was I getting involved in that.
He pointed a dark finger at me, evil gleaming across his previously panicked face. “You owe me.”
“You owe me more,” I countered. Chance snickered.
“Come on, Lynnie. Look at all those times I’ve played innocent wingman for you over the years, all the dick I’ve gotten y—”
“For fuck’s sake! Fine! I’ll drive him home just stop talking ,” I growled.
I swear he squeaked in excitement before running over and planting a fat, sloppy kiss on both of our cheeks before racing out the door.
“That poor girl,” Chance mumbled.