Monster:Angels of Chaos MC(8)

By: Zoey Parker


“And you like it?”

“I love it. I really do.” She’s not only gorgeous when she’s pissed off, she’s also gorgeous when she’s talking about the things she loves. Her eyes light up.

But she’s sexiest when she’s pissed.

I look out the window, noticing the wind isn’t howling the way it was before. “It’s slowed down a little,” I say, standing and stretching. I feel my tee ride up when I do, and I see her glance over to take a look when she thinks I won’t notice. I manage to hide my grin and keep that little bit of information in the back of my mind. The way she looked at me.

“I think it might not be a bad idea to go out and clear at least some of the snow,” I say. “It’s gonna keep snowing but I wanna get a jump on it. So there’s not so much to do all at once.”

“You trust me to stay in here all by myself?”

I can’t help smirking. As if she was some sort of threat. “I think the house can handle it. Unless you’d rather come out and help me. Maybe those leather boots will keep your feet warm.” Even with a disgusted look on her face, she’s beautiful. And so easy to set off. I think saving her from the storm was a good move on my part.

My eyes move down to her body before I turn away. Yeah. It was a very good move.





Chapter 5

Christina

Who the hell is this guy?

I watch him as he puts that massive parka back on, shoving his feet back into his thick boots, his hands back into heavy gloves that he left to dry on the radiator. I didn’t expect him to be witty. He’s not really funny or even extremely charming, but he’s smart. He makes me smile even when he’s pissing me off.

“Try not to burn anything down while I’m out there,” he says, and I scowl at him in disgust.

“Try not to get buried in a snow bank,” I snap.

“If I did, you’d be good and fucked, wouldn’t you?” He laughs a little before disappearing outside, slamming the door shut against the wind.

Ugh.

He’s so sexy I can’t stand it.

I don’t know what it is about him. Yeah, he’s hot. I knew he was handsome the minute I first saw him. Anyone with eyes could see that. But there’s something else. Something deeper. A magnetism. He has tons of it.

I get up and walk to the window, still a little unsteady from the whiskey. At least I’m conscious, though. He didn’t drug me. I feel slightly bad for doubting him so much.

He’s out there, shoveling away like a machine. The snow is nothing to him, the shovel like a toy in his massive hands. If I hadn’t already learned he worked outdoors, I would have guessed it once I watched him clear away the snow. He’s used to this kind of work. Before I know it, he already has a clear path to the driveway, where I can just barely make out the indents that used to be the path we cleared when walking up here from the main road. Has it really snowed so much since then that I can hardly see where our footsteps fell?

I crane my neck, standing on tiptoe, trying to see my car. There’s nothing but snow as far as the eye can see, though. I’d have been buried alive for sure. I shiver at the thought. Imagine if he hadn’t noticed me. I still don’t know how he happened to see me in the first place. I just didn’t think to ask him. Maybe it would be better not to. Maybe not knowing how much of my life, at this moment, has to do with chance is for the best. Otherwise I might go crazy.

I look around the room. It’s like a picture from a book, right down to the hound dog curled up in front of the fire. Two rocking chairs, facing one another on either side of the hearth. A rug between them. Copper pots and pans hanging from a rack over an old stove. A small table with an old-fashioned lamp suspended above it. I would never in a million years see a man like Jax living here. A little old lady living on a pension? Sure. Not a heavily inked, muscular roughneck.

I pace back and forth in front of the fire long enough to get the dog’s attention. He jumps up and wags his tail at me.

“Sorry, old boy,” I say, scratching him behind the ears. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. Just wondering what to do with myself now. Any suggestions?”

He walks over to his food bowl and noses around inside. “Feed me,” he’s saying. Well, that’s just about as good an idea as any. I open a few cabinets, looking for food. Finally, I find a stack of cans, one of which I empty into his bowl. Meanwhile, now that I’ve looked around some, I see that this kitchen is better stocked than I expected. Once again, Jax is surprising me.

I impulsively start pulling out ingredients: butter, eggs, flour, sugar. I turn on the oven, checking to make sure the pilot is lit before mixing up a dough. There are no chocolate chips, but there’s peanut butter. Peanut butter cookies it is. Before long, I’m rolling balls of dough, coating them in sugar and making crisscross patterns in them with the tines of a fork. I put them in the oven and go back to the window, checking on Jax’s progress. He’s still working out there. I can’t believe he hasn’t collapsed yet, honestly. Nearly the entire driveway is cleared. He has to be ready to collapse at this point.

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