Page 79 of Damascus & The Wildfire
Relief flickered in his gaze. “Good. I’ve never wanted them either. Why bring kids into this fucked-up world?”
I managed a shaky smile. “Exactly. Plus, they’re sticky and loud and smelly. I do want a few dogs, though,” I added. “And a goat. Maybe two. Oh, and some chickens. And a peacock.”
Merrick tilted his head at me, exasperated. “So no kids, but you want a goddamn petting zoo?”
I grinned, shrugging. “Pretty much.”
He shook his head, muttering under his breath. “The things I am willing to put up with for you, Wildfire.”
A loud honk sounded from outside the window, startling us both. I looked up, confused.
Merrick stood and walked to it, pulling back the curtain. “Looks like the prospects are here with the furniture.”
“What furniture?” I followed him, peering over his shoulder. A moving truck idled in the driveway, a club prospect leaning against the hood, arms crossed.
Merrick turned to me, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “You’re moving in. First load’s the big stuff—couches and tables. Whatever you want to keep here, we’ll bring in. The rest can go into storage.”
I blinked, still processing. “But I haven’t even packed anything.”
He shrugged, his tone casual but his eyes warm. “You can pack today. ”
I stared at him, torn between surprise and something softer, something that made my chest ache in the best way. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
He stepped closer, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. His knuckles grazed my jaw, making me meet his gaze. “Dead fucking serious, Wildfire.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You asked me to move in less than twelve hours ago.”
“And?” He brushed a loose strand of hair back from my face. “Life’s short. I don’t waste time when I know what I want.”
I laughed. “Old man logic.”
“Smart man logic,” he countered with a grin. “Get dressed. I’ll unload with the prospects before heading to Fort Worth for club business.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Just say you’re doing shady biker shit you can’t tell me about.”
His grin widened. “I’m doing shady biker shit today. Put some clothes on before the prospects see you. I’d hate to have to rip their eyeballs out.”
I shook my head and pressed my lips to his.
“If you need anything while I’m doing said shady shit, ask one of the prospects or call Fuse. He’ll be hanging out with Hatchet today,” Merrick said.
An hour later, I faced a stack of moving boxes and a small army of new prospects assigned the unfortunate duty of helping me.
“What can I pack?” asked Arson, a lanky man with jet-black hair and flame tattoos licking up his arms.
“The entire kitchen? Merrick owns like two cups and paper plates,” I said with a laugh.
Arson chuckled. “Perfect. I can take this room if you want to take another. You’ll have to tell the guys what you want them to pack, though, because Merrick said, and I quote, ‘Don’t go through her shit without asking first.’ And none of us wants to piss off the boss.”
I shook my head. Overprotective alpha males.
“Bayou, can you pack up my office? I have a lot of books.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said in his deep Southern accent, nodding at me as he grabbed a set of boxes and headed down the hall.
“And Zen, I think you could handle anything that’s in the main room and the closets. I’d like to take the blankets and throw pillows to Merrick’s, but everything else can go into storage for now. I’ll handle packing my bedroom and bathroom.”
Zen nodded, his mop of dark-blue hair falling over his face.
