Temper (Knights of Fury #3) - Chantal Fernando Page 0,74
good,” I say, following her inside with Temper at my side.
“Ivy will be home soon,” Mom says as we sit down on the couch. “She had to go into work, but said she will finish early.”
“Okay,” I reply. Mom disappears into the kitchen to make the tea, and I catch Temper staring around the room at all of my baby pictures.
“Man, you were the most adorable baby,” he says, staring at the big picture of me hanging on the wall. I was about one then, with a thick head of hair and wearing a pretty white dress.
“How do you know that that’s me?” I ask.
“The eyes, your smile,” he replies, shrugging. “I’d know you anywhere.”
“That’s a bit cute.”
“You’re a bit cute,” he says softly, eyes locked on me. “I love this house. I can picture you growing up here.”
“Mom moved in here when I was a few months old, so it’s the only house I’ve ever known,” I admit.
I’ve been much luckier than Temper in regards to my childhood, and it’s nice to be able to share that part of me. Having him here, sitting on the worn leather couch I used to play with my dolls on, brings him into my world, and lets him see a different side of me.
“You drink the tea first, just in case,” he whispers to me, just before Mom steps back into the room.
Lip twitching, I wait for her to sit down and prepare myself for the questioning that’s about to begin.
“So how was your trip? I’m still a little confused why you didn’t even come and tell me or Ivy that you were going. You’re not usually the spontaneous type,” she says, pouring the tea for us all.
“It was a last-minute decision,” I say, shrugging. “I should have told you. I know that, and I’m sorry.”
Just like you should have told me who my dad was many years ago.
“Very unlike you,” she murmurs, sliding me and Temper a mug each.
“Thank you,” he says. “I think it was mostly my fault that she left so sudden. I was going on an adventure, and I asked her if she wanted to come with me. I made it pretty hard to say no.”
Yeah, very hard, considering I was tied up.
“I see,” Mom replies, lifting the tea to her lips and blowing the steam. “Well, I’m just glad that she’s home.”
“You’re looking well,” I say.
“I feel much better,” she admits. “I’ve been taking the new medication, and to be honest, I feel stronger than I have in a long time.”
“That’s good.” I smile. “How’s Franks been doing?”
“Good. Ivy and Sierra have taken on your old shifts, and I’m in the process of hiring another part-time employee. We’ve had steady sales, so can’t complain.” She turns to Temper. “So... Temper, you’re a biker. Is that how you earn your living?”
And here we go.
I should have introduced him as Tommy instead of Temper, but I just didn’t think.
“I own a custom motorcycle shop,” he replies. “So we sell custom bikes, but we can also customize the bikes people already have.”
“I see,” she replies, dragging out the word.
I don’t know if she expected him to just say I’m the president of a motorcycle club or what, but she wasn’t going to get it.
And technically, he’s not lying to her.
“Well, I appreciate you bringing her back. It’s been a lot of stress without her here—I’ve been worried sick. It was just so out of her character for her to just leave. When I spoke to the police, they said there’s nothing they could do because she’s not a child, and has been in contact and stated she was fine.”
“You called the police?” I ask, brow furrowing. “Seriously, Mom? I told you I was fine. I called you. I spoke to Ivy almost every day. I left you voice messages. Why would you call the police?”
“I was concerned,” she says, lifting her chin, her gray-brown hair falling across