Page 64 of Chill

Chapter Thirteen.

Meadow

I was trying not to laugh, but my sides were killing me. After yesterday’s fiascos, I thought Chill would have learned. It didn’t appear so. Chill stood in front of the roaring fire, drip-drying while Zion dressed and Cassian showered. His eyes were locked on my daughter, who regarded him with sheer innocence.

“Menace,” Chill hissed.

He’d taken the kids fishing. Yup. Damn obvious what would happen there with Poet on board. They’d been great for a couple of hours until Poet caught a rather big trout.

Chill had helped her haul it in and praised Poet’s hard work. Everything was fine until it smacked Poet in the mouth with its tail.

Cassian claimed that’s when all hell broke loose. Poet had freaked out and threw the trout—still attached to the line. It landed on Zion’s lap, who jumped up, rocking the boat, and Chill tumbled overboard. Cassian attempted to grab the flapping fish, and Zion moved again, and Cassian joined Chill. By now, Poet was hysterical that the poor thing was ‘trying to eat her’ and tried to escape from Zion, who’d grabbed it. As Zion unhooked it, Poet moved so violently that he plunged headfirst into the water.

When she realised she was safe, Poet sat down calmly and asked why everyone had gone swimming in their clothes.

Chill had panicked, unsure if the boys could swim, and nearly knocked himself out diving under the boat to reach Zion. Cassian was holding on to the edge, so Chill knew Cassian was fine. Chill was now convinced that Poet was related to a Hellfire MC prospect called Jinx.

Once Chill got everyone back on board, dripping wet, he rowed to shore in complete silence. Not even Poet dared speak. So, four very unhappy people returned from a fun trip!

Poet gazed at Chill, and Chill stared back.

“Are you mad?” Poet demanded.

Chill’s jaw flexed. “Should I be?”

“The fish tried to eat me,” Poet stated.

“Did it? I thought it bitch-slapped you.”

Poet frowned, then glanced in my direction. “You can’t cuss.”

“Oh honey, I damn well can.”

“You have to give me a buck per cuss word,” Poet challenged.

Chill turned incredulously and took me in, hunched over and crying with laughter. I’d shoved a towel in my mouth so Poet couldn’t hear me.

“Yeah, how about I get a hug every time you’re in trouble and I save—”

“Deal,” Poet replied.

“Oh, I ain’t finished, buttercup. I get five bucks when you ignore the rules. Ten for every time something happens to me, and fifteen if I’m injured or ill because of you.”

“Nope. I’m a child, so I don’t have money,” Poet said smugly.

Chill leaned forward with a wicked grin. “Oh, but I can add everything up for the day you get a job, and you can pay me back then.”

Poet narrowed her eyes. “Fine! I’ll let you off the hook for cussing.”

“Doesn’t mean that I’m going to forgive you!” Chill retorted.

I squeaked at the outraged noise Poet made.

“Poet, go to your room and consider your next move carefully,” I suggested.

She stood and marched over to Chill. “Me and you gonna fall out,” she snapped before stomping away.

“I think we’re already there!” Chill sing-songed.