Page 10 of Blaze

He shakes his head, and I huff, “Freaking Crash,” before saying, “Okay, so what I do is I spend probably about a week going through every single book within the club, its income and outgoing expenses…”

He cuts me off and asks, “Everything?” with a raised brow, and I roll my eyes.

The ass is testing me.

“Legal income,” I state, and he smirks again, a smirk that I want to hit and kiss at the same time, which definitely not good. Clearing my throat, I continue, “So I add up all the income, then the outgoing, before I figure out what tax the club will owe, and Bones, when he hired Norman's firm, like the ass he is, prefers paying the tax yearly, which is why I spend a week going over everythin. Now this here,” I point to the piece of paper and he sits forward, “is how much needs to be paid.”

He hums, “That is a lot,” and I huff, “As I said, Bones is an ass.”

Blaze raises a brow at me and asks, “Do you call all your clients asses?”

“Only ones where I’ve actually seen his ass,” I mutter, and Blaze tilts his head with a brow raise, and before he can even open his mouth, I state, “No, I have not screwed him. I walked in on a fourteen-year-old Bones getting sucked by a teacher.”

I shudder in revolution, and the man smirks.

“You went to our school? I don’t remember seeing you, though I, too, have also walked in on him screwing a teacher, it isn’t a pretty sight,” he mentions as he looks over my features, and I snort before I semi-tell the truth, “I was homeschooled from the beginning of high school, but they still had to supply the work.”

He nods, and I clear my throat again and say, “If you tell Bones –”

My words cut off when his phone rings, and he sighs before muttering, “One sec,” then grabs it before looking at the screen.

Giving him privacy, I grab my laptop and log on quickly. A photo of Mom and Dad appears, and I quickly bring up the club's finances as Blaze’s deep voice goes through me as he murmurs, “Hey, babe,” the words striking me like a devastating blow.

Disappointment hits me, and I instantly scold myself.

Alone, remember?

“Yeah, no, I’ll be by in about an hour, I’m just in a meeting for the club, alright.”

Ignoring Blaze, I bring up all the forms that Bones will need to pay his tax bill because, knowing Crash, he probably forgot to bring the club card.

“You were saying?” Blaze asks, and I look his way, trying to keep my face passive, and I reply, “Bones will need this number here,” I point at the sheet, “To pay the taxes. Normally, I do it on his behalf while he or Crash is here, but I’m going to go out on a limb here and think maybe he didn’t give you the club card, so I’ll just print these forms,” I point to my screen, “that I’ve already filled in, and he can copy them.”

Blaze leans forward and gets his wallet out before grabbing a card, then putting it on the desk, and I raise a brow.

He shrugs, “Every officer brother has one,” and I nod before taking it. Instead of pressing print, I scroll down and press submit.

As soon as I get to the payment part, I enter the amount with the card details and confirm with Blaze, “This is the amount?” He sits forward, nods, and I press pay.

As soon as it is confirmed, I slide the card back to him, and he takes it before asking, “Why did you ask if it was the right amount?”

“Because I like to be thorough,” I murmur, not looking his way as I print off the receipt, and then I hand it to him, saying, “Okay, so that has all gone through, tell Bones I’ll see him in a year,” as I stand, and he takes the receipt, standing along with me.

“Not Crash?” he asks, and I shake my head and admit, “No, that man is like a weed that just won’t go away and I don’t have the privilege of not seeing for a year,” causing him to raise a brow, but I wave a hand at him and mutter, “Never mind,” before apologizing, “and again, I’m sorry about the two-minute late thing.”

He nods to my lip that he keeps narrowing in on and mentions, “I’ll let you off considering the cut…”

“About that cut,” a voice echoes from the doorway, and I groan as I drop my head just as Mama says, “Blaze, sweetheart, how are you? You staying out of trouble?” and I look at the man with a raised brow.

He knows my mama?

Side eyeing me, he replies, “Ms. Hallows, I always stay out of trouble,” and she snorts, “You mean like when you set that warehouse on fire?” and I look at him with shock, my eyes wide, and he winces.

“It was Crusher's fault,” he says, and Mama shakes her head.

“He dared you, you said fine, so that is not his fault,” she scolds, and I look down to stop myself from laughing, hoping she doesn’t scold me too, but my hopes are dashed when she snaps, “That funny, daughter of mine?” and I flinch.

Damn, the last time she scolded me like this was when I accidentally crashed her car.