crushing on a man, any man with all I had going on in my life, was surprising. The fact that Trey was hot and a biker already spiked my pulse into a dangerous range.
But, to know he was the big-dog of the pack?
Holy shit, were the only words that came to mind as I tried to control the trembling in my knees as I forced my hands to continue their movements.
"Wow, real dishes for take-out, huh?" Trey's eyes were roaming over the carefully laid table my mom had insisted on. His eyes came to mine as I unloaded all the different containers in the carrier bags sitting on the counter. I pointed my chin at her as she moved towards the table with my dad who was whispering something about her wearing perfume in such a way it made her giggle and blush.
"You set a beautiful table, Mrs. Sheridan," Trey said as he pulled out her chair. It was the perfect thing to say at just the perfect moment, and I knew he saw the gratitude in my eyes by the chin lift he gave me in response before he seated himself.
"We don't have enough serving pieces so we'll be dipping into the original containers. I hope nobody minds," I said as I began to set out all the different food Trey had bought in the center of the table and shoved a large spoon in each. There was so much of it, such a wealth of selection, I knew I'd have to store a lot of it on the counters since there just wasn't enough room on our scarred wooden table.
"I didn't know who could eat what, so I asked for a little of everything. It's all cooked without that MSG stuff or soy sauce, but I snagged plenty of packets for those that like it." Trey passed my mom one of the containers of white rice before helping himself to one of containers of noodles.
"Goddamn, this is good!" my dad exclaimed, nibbling on a rib. "We need to have Chinese more often, Dallas."
Yeah, right. We didn't have the money to get Chinese more often and since they wanted to charge me extra for all the substitutions and then would get the order wrong, I'd given up on doing Chinese food for our little family.
"I guess I should fill you in on how your boy's been doing over the last few days," Trey started, using a napkin to wipe his mouth.
"We hope he's not given you any trouble, Mr. Jackson," my mother murmured with a frown.
I kept my eyes on my plate waiting for him to speak, to tell us that my brother was a thug and a brat and that there was no way he'd be able to help us or Drake.
"Nothing we can't handle. He tried to play tough guy and declined to eat the first couple of days," Trey started and the clank of my dad's fork on the plate was loud enough to interrupt him.
"I didn't raise him to be disrespectful, Mr. Jackson." My father's face was bright red as he held himself stiffly erect.
"No, sir, I'm sure you didn't. But Drake's at an age where he needs to start answering for his own actions." Trey's voice, though firm, held respect as he responded to my father. "You boy's got a bit of a temper on him and it took a couple of days before he decided to settle in."
"What do you mean, Trey?" I wasn't real sure I wanted to know having been on the receiving end of that temper on more than a few occasions.
"Maybe I should explain in more detail," Trey advised and gained a nod from my dad before continuing. "We've done this kind of thing before and have found that having the women bring the food trays to the kids sometimes settles them. Kind of a good cop/bad cop setup. Some of these boys respond better to women. Anyway, Drake decided to decline dinner the first night and let Vanessa know by throwing the tray at her."
"Is Vanessa one of the Honeys that Miller told me about?" my mother asked softly as she drew the tines of her fork through the rice on her plate.
"Mary described the symbol on the back of your cut and I told her about the Hellions and the Honeys," dad stated to fill in the blanks. "Back in the day, most of us regular guys kept up with what was going on at your club. Forewarned being forearmed and
But, to know he was the big-dog of the pack?
Holy shit, were the only words that came to mind as I tried to control the trembling in my knees as I forced my hands to continue their movements.
"Wow, real dishes for take-out, huh?" Trey's eyes were roaming over the carefully laid table my mom had insisted on. His eyes came to mine as I unloaded all the different containers in the carrier bags sitting on the counter. I pointed my chin at her as she moved towards the table with my dad who was whispering something about her wearing perfume in such a way it made her giggle and blush.
"You set a beautiful table, Mrs. Sheridan," Trey said as he pulled out her chair. It was the perfect thing to say at just the perfect moment, and I knew he saw the gratitude in my eyes by the chin lift he gave me in response before he seated himself.
"We don't have enough serving pieces so we'll be dipping into the original containers. I hope nobody minds," I said as I began to set out all the different food Trey had bought in the center of the table and shoved a large spoon in each. There was so much of it, such a wealth of selection, I knew I'd have to store a lot of it on the counters since there just wasn't enough room on our scarred wooden table.
"I didn't know who could eat what, so I asked for a little of everything. It's all cooked without that MSG stuff or soy sauce, but I snagged plenty of packets for those that like it." Trey passed my mom one of the containers of white rice before helping himself to one of containers of noodles.
"Goddamn, this is good!" my dad exclaimed, nibbling on a rib. "We need to have Chinese more often, Dallas."
Yeah, right. We didn't have the money to get Chinese more often and since they wanted to charge me extra for all the substitutions and then would get the order wrong, I'd given up on doing Chinese food for our little family.
"I guess I should fill you in on how your boy's been doing over the last few days," Trey started, using a napkin to wipe his mouth.
"We hope he's not given you any trouble, Mr. Jackson," my mother murmured with a frown.
I kept my eyes on my plate waiting for him to speak, to tell us that my brother was a thug and a brat and that there was no way he'd be able to help us or Drake.
"Nothing we can't handle. He tried to play tough guy and declined to eat the first couple of days," Trey started and the clank of my dad's fork on the plate was loud enough to interrupt him.
"I didn't raise him to be disrespectful, Mr. Jackson." My father's face was bright red as he held himself stiffly erect.
"No, sir, I'm sure you didn't. But Drake's at an age where he needs to start answering for his own actions." Trey's voice, though firm, held respect as he responded to my father. "You boy's got a bit of a temper on him and it took a couple of days before he decided to settle in."
"What do you mean, Trey?" I wasn't real sure I wanted to know having been on the receiving end of that temper on more than a few occasions.
"Maybe I should explain in more detail," Trey advised and gained a nod from my dad before continuing. "We've done this kind of thing before and have found that having the women bring the food trays to the kids sometimes settles them. Kind of a good cop/bad cop setup. Some of these boys respond better to women. Anyway, Drake decided to decline dinner the first night and let Vanessa know by throwing the tray at her."
"Is Vanessa one of the Honeys that Miller told me about?" my mother asked softly as she drew the tines of her fork through the rice on her plate.
"Mary described the symbol on the back of your cut and I told her about the Hellions and the Honeys," dad stated to fill in the blanks. "Back in the day, most of us regular guys kept up with what was going on at your club. Forewarned being forearmed and
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