Page 38 of Klutch's Kryptonite

I should hate it; should be running for the fucking hills. Instead, I’m taking her to Sunday dinner at my parents’ house like she’s my old lady or something.

“This is where you grew up?” Demi shouts over the rumble of my bike as we pull into the driveway of my childhood home.

I cut the engine and put down the kickstand. “It is.”

She climbs off the bike, removes my helmet, and shakes out her long dark hair. I can’t help but watch the way it falls around her shoulders. She’s fucking beautiful.

“It’s nice,” she says, smoothing down her sundress. “It’s… normal.”

I snort. “What were you expecting?”

She rolls her eyes, but her smile is nervous. “I don’t know, but it wasn’t this.” She waves her hand out indicating the two-story with white vinyl siding, navy shutters, and a bright red door isn’t what she pictured.

I chuckle. “Fair enough.” Even I can see my parents’ house is very cookie cutter.

“Do I look okay?” Demi bends at the knees and uses the mirror on my bike to check her hair.

“You look sexy as fuck.”

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. We’re not even dating.” She huffs.

“If you want hearts and flowers, baby, I’ll give you hearts and flowers. But know this.” I step into her space and pull her body flush with mine. “You’re mine. I know it. You know it. And they’ll know it the second they clap eyes on you.” I smirk. This shit is moving fast, but fuck it.

The front door swings open and my mother rushes out, her face split with a grin that makes her eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Mijo!” she calls, arms already open.

I let go of Demi and bend down to hug my mother’s tiny frame. “Hey, Ma.”

She pulls back, her dark eyes immediately shifting to Demi. “And you must be Demi.” Without waiting for a response, shepulls Blue into a hug that seems to catch her off guard. “I’m Melina. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“You have?” Demi asks, shooting me a look over my mother’s shoulder.

I shrug. Can’t help that my Ma has ways of getting information out of me. The CIA don’t have shit on her. One phone call asking why I haven’t been by for dinner, and suddenly I’m telling her about the blue-eyed girl who’s been sleeping in my bed.

“Come in, come in,” Ma ushers us inside. “David! They’re here!”

My father appears from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. Unlike my mother’s warm welcome, he stands back, assessing Demi with narrowed eyes before they flick to me.

“Pop,” I nod in greeting.

“Son.” He extends his hand to Demi. “So you’re the girl.”

“Dad,” I warn, but Demi just smiles and takes his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Sánchez.”

“Call me Swift,” he tells her. “Everyone does.”

I watch the exchange with a tightness in my chest. My father is a tough nut to crack. As the former SAA of our club, he’s seen the worst of humanity and trusts almost no one outside the brotherhood. The fact that he’s even attempting to be civil is a miracle.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Ma announces. “Demi, why don’t you come help me in the kitchen while the men have a drink?”

Before I can protest, my mother has linked her arm through Demi’s and is guiding her away. I move to follow, but my father’s hand on my shoulder stops me.

“Let them be,” he says. “Your mother’s been dying to get that girl alone since you mentioned her name.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I mutter.

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