Page 8 of A Perfect Christmas with Chaos
“God, she’s a talented little shit, isn’t she?”he rasps after placing a peck on my forehead.
“Yep, like someone else I know.”
In comfortable silence we watch Will.
Eventually, Mav breaks it by asking, “So you really think it’s a good idea to have everyone over?”He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.After checking the time, he says, “I could cancel now, and we could spend the rest of the day with just us, wrapped up, on the couch, all cozy and warm.We could relax and watch some movies.”
Chuckling, I pinch his side.He flinches and tries to pull away.
“I’m kidding," he laughs.After a beat of silence, he adds, “But it’s tempting, ain’t it?”
Yeah...it is.
But I promised I’d cook a Christmas dinner for an army of HOCs, and I plan to do just that.Plus, with Nick gone, someone needs to step in and make sure these men eat a home-cooked meal on occasion.
PART 3
EMBER
THE FIRST to arrive is Kendra and Septic, along with their brood of energetic kids.Not long after, Grinder and three of the senior club members show up.Each one comes in carrying a bottle of their favorite alcohol and presents.Some are for me, but most are for Will or the baby.
I’m guessing word about the baby spread like wildfire because every member who arrives offers kind words and congratulations as they enter our home.
The next time I hear the doorbell, I open the door to find both Cap and Taffy.
“Merry Christmas!”Taffy beams at me before quickly pulling me into a hug.A second later, she’s darting off to stash the presents under the tree and look for Will.
Cap shakes his head at his daughter’s flightiness.“Hello, sweetheart,” he murmurs, attempting a smile, though his mouth is strained as if he’s pushing through too much pain to make it convincing.
Normally, he’d stand as tall as Dozer, but today he’s hunched slightly, gripping the side handles of his walker.Even so, there’s no denying his rugged good looks—light brown hair streaked with a heavy dose of grey, long enough to brush against his collar, and a neatly trimmed beard framing his square jaw.He’s also dressed sharply in black jeans, a crisp white button-down shirt, and his cut.
For a moment, my eyes fall to the spot where the president's patch used to adorn his vest.I never saw it there.But from how worn it is and how new-looking the leather is under where the patch resided, it’s obvious that a vital piece of what it once was is missing.
He doesn’t look quite happy to be here.Not like Taffy does.Especially as he grumbles and curses, while trying to manage his way over the threshold.
I’ve never really known him to be anything but unhappy unless he’s hopped up on his pain meds.After all, he’d been shot and in the hospital by the time I arrived at the clubhouse.I’d only met him a month ago when he started to get mobile enough to get around.
