Page 32 of Stone

“Uncle Gabe, you come too?” she asks, her little hands slapping against my cheeks while I lean in close to buckle her up.

“Not today, sweetheart,” I placate her, although spending the day with Sasha and Oriana wouldn’t be such a bad thing, but until we get on top of our problem with the Irish, club business has to come first. “Uncle Smoke needs me to help him with some things today. But I’ll want to hear all about your day tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” All secure, I lean in to place a kiss on her forehead, which gains me a smile that could melt the hardest of hearts. I move out and close the door behind me. Oriana is already sitting in the driver’s seat. Cub is still hovering like a dog on heat. I push hard on the door so that it slips from his grip with the momentum, and it slams shut. Pity it didn’t take his fingers off, I think as I wave him off. Cunt.

Once Cub is far enough away, I tap on the window and gesticulate for Oriana to drop the window. I’d already gone through all the dos and don’ts. I have the details of where they’re going, the time she expects to arrive and when she expects to be back home, but I still feel the need to go over a couple of points again, mainly due to the ball of unease that is simmering in my gut.

I lay my arm across the open window and lean in enough so she can hear me but speak quietly enough that Cub can’t. The last thing I need is for him to go spouting off to my brothers that I’ve turned into an overprotective asshole and be the butt of their jokes. After all, I am their VP and would hate to have to dish out punishment for their slip of respect.

“Straight there, straight back. Don’t be stopping off at the mall to shop.”

A loud “Aww, Uncle Gabe, that’s mean” filters through for the back, making me smile despite my seriousness.

“Any problems you call, do you hear me?”

“Gabriel, please. Your paranoia will start to rub off on Sasha.” Laying her hand across my forearm, she tries to give it a comforting squeeze. It’s hard to do that when it’s a mass of hard muscle, but the good intention is not missed, and neither is the intimacy.

I jolt my arm away, the volt of electricity that passes between us taking me by surprise. She looks up at me, eyebrows raised, sky-blue eyes wide and plump lips open. I can’t quite make out if she’s surprised by my sudden move or whether she felt it too.

“Text me when you’re back and I’ll try to get away.” The words come out deep and husky. I cough in hope that my voice will go back to its usual tone before I say. “To see if Sasha has had a good time.”

“Of course,” she huffs before yanking on the seatbelt. The belt comes out a few inches, only for it to lock in place. She tugs on it repeatedly, only for the same thing to happen. She takes in a deep breath, forces herself to relax and tries again, this time pulling it out far enough so she can slot it into the catch. “Bye, Mr. Stone,” she sneers out before putting her foot on the gas and taking off down the track, passing the clubhouse to the main gates.

“Fucking woman,” I curse under my breath.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cub’s voice surprises me from behind, my attention still on the moving car as it slips off of Club land.

“Considering that you don’t seem to listen to a fucking word I say anyway, enlighten me, exactly what is it that I should have told you?” I turn, giving him the evil eye.

“That you’ve got the hots for her,” he says, matter of fact.

“How the fuck old are you? Got the hots?”

“Eighteen,” he huffs back. Shit, sometimes I forget that he is indeed still a kid compared to the rest of us fuckers at the MC.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re on about,” I snigger, trying to make light of his observation. “You’re barely out of kindergarten, so what would you know? You’re talking shit.”

“I know,” he takes on a cocky stance. “Doesn’t matter what age you are. Flirting is flirting. Chemistry is chemistry. Attraction is attraction. Fundamentally, it still looks the same. Your face, your body language, and the over protectiveness, damn that just gives it away. However much you try to deny it, deep down you know. You’ve got it bad for her.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” I snarl back at him, but all he does is stands there and smirk. I make a sudden move forward towards him.

“Oh shit,” he gasps when he picks up on my body language. which now clearly shows that I’m pissed as fuck. He’s quick, I’ll give him that, because he takes off running before I get a hand on him. I sprint off after him, but he has a shit ton of years on me, so as soon as I’m sure that he will keep on going until he gets to the clubhouse, I slowly grind to a stop.

Bending forward with my hands flat on my thighs, I gasp in some air until my racing heart settles back to a regular speed.

It irks me, but Cub could be right.

I’ve tried to ignore the ridiculous signs pointing to the fact that I am attracted to her. Mainly because I don’t understand them. From the very first day she walked into the clubhouse seeking a job, I’d been caught up in the whirlwind that is Oriana. I did everything I could to hide my instant attraction for her from everyone else in the room, projecting the asshole side of my personality.

If Cub, who’s not the brightest puppy in the pack, can see the truth peeking from behind my deceptive wall, then who else can?

Should I just say fuck it and accept my feelings, make them known, see what reaction I get from Oriana? Part of the problem is that, for me, these feelings are alien, and I’m unsure of how to act on them. Bagging a club whore is easy. Dating, romancing a woman, shit, I haven’t got a clue.

Yet my worry is that even if I did give in to temptation, let my guard down and make my move on her, chances are that it wouldn’t last. Then what? I would end up breaking Sasha’s heart when Oriana rejects me, or it all comes crashing down.

But the one thing that convinces me that all this would be one big mistake is that it would be putting Oriana at risk. Jacob and Savannah’s death reinforced that.

Jesus, my fucked-up feelings could stir up a heap of trouble. Trouble that, at the moment, I’ve got enough of.

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