“Nah,” my dad and Bailey say in unison, and then they both grin like loons at each other. Don’t know what it is, but if you find someone else who takes their coffee black, it’s like finding a freaking unicorn in the wild. Everyone talks about it like it’s a normal thing, but until this moment, I only knew my dad to take it plain. Others might skip the milk or the sugar, but not both.
“Creamer for me,” I say, ’cause unlike the other two, I’m not opposed to actually enjoying my drink. Black coffee is not good. Had to have that shit in the Army, and I swore when I got out, I’d never drink it again. Not sure if Dad was always like this or just spent too many years in the Marines to know better.
As for Bailey, she was right. There are things I don’t know about her, it seems. And I fucking love a challenge.
Girl just fucked up by giving me a reason to spend even more time with her. My obsession is about to know no bounds with her.
Lucky for her.
Chapter 16—Bailey
Reese continues to surprise me. Meeting parents is usually a second-month, maybe even a fourth-month moment based on friend advice. God knows I’m way closer to my parents than most, so I’ve asked my friends before what the normal meeting time is. But Reese continues to throw the rule book out the window. We aren’t eventogethertogether, yet here I sit across the table from his dad. Who looks intimidating but is just like his son, all mellow and easy to get along with.
Mike sure has the Ed Harris look down, even with the resting scowl on his face. I would not want to be yelled at by that face first thing in the morning. The lowered eyebrows almost make it seem like he’s glaring all the time, and it took me a bit to realize that’s just his RMF—resting Marine face.
An older woman appears, diverting my attention from the men at the table. Not sure if she was in the bar area or came from down one of the halls that veer off from this main area. She walks up to the bar, which is now vacant, and scans the room for someone. If Kathy Bates had a doppelgänger, she would be it.
Reese’s phone chimes, and he checks it before giving his dad a pointed look. “You take your meds?”
There goes that sour look on Mike’s face again, just like he had when we got here. I cover my smile up by bringing my coffee to my lips. There’s just something silly about a child having to parent their parent. I do it all the time with mine, but usually it’s about not replying to a chain email or giving away money to a scammer who called them.
“Don’t try to parent me, son.”
“So that’s a no?” Reese asks with a furrowed brow. I also noticed that Mike didn’t agree or disagree with the question.
“That’s a ‘mind your own damn business.’”
“Oh please. Kids don’t mind shit.”
We all look up as the older woman comes over. Reese sighs heavily, and I glance at him as he shakes his head.
“How many times do we got to tell you, Margret, just ’cause people are talking, it don’t mean they’re talking to you.”
“If you didn’t want me to listen, talk quieter,” she says with a shrug, clearly not ashamed of her actions. “Now get me a drink, Prospect.”
I glance at Reese and watch him look up from his drink slowly, with eyes that make me shift in my seat uneasily. Even his dad is taking notice. “Ain’t a damn prospect, and you know that. Show some respect or get the hell out.”
“You can’t kick me out, son. I know the boss.” She smirks like her shit don’t stink.
“Yeah, I do too. And he’d say the same thing. Plus, prospects don’t take orders from old hags like you.”
My mouth drops opens, and I look over to Margret as she takes half a second to smile wide. “I knew I liked you.”
They share a stare down before Reese bellows, “Get the VP’s ma a beer.”
Not sure when the prospect got back to the bar or if he was there the whole time and just hiding, but within seconds, Margret has a beer in her hand and a seat at the table. Not that anyone invited her, but I got a feeling she ain’t the type to wait for an invitation.
“Margret, this is my dad, Mike, and Troublemaker.”
“Troublemaker, huh?”
She looks me over, and I straighten a bit, till Reese grabs the back of my neck in a massaging grip that settles me. I didn’t know I needed his support till he offered it to me. Just like he did when I put a hand on his knee when he was talking about his friend.
“Smart to put a name on it.”
Why does it sound like she just said he put a ring on it?
Is it out of fear or wishful thinking that that’s what I heard?
