“It’s cute he’s so protective,” Rosie insisted.
“He’s a fucking hellion!” I cried. My head swiveled around until I caught sight of Wilder’s dad talking to Atlas and Bowie a few feet away. “Yo, Cash,” I shouted. “Need a word.”
He cocked his head to one side, taking in my expression before stalking toward me with the other two men in tow. “What’s the problem?”
I jerked a thumb to where Wilder was now leading Imogen around by the hand. “Your boy’s flirting with my girl. Make it stop.”
Cash’s forehead creased, and his head turned toward the kids. “Are you fuckin’ crazy? He’s five.”
“I don’t give a fuck that he’s five,” I retorted. “He’s too old for my baby girl.”
Cara appeared from out of nowhere. “What’s Wilder done now?”
I sucked in air through my nose. “Your boy’s flirting with my girl.”
Her eyebrows hit her hairline, and her eyes slashed to Rosie, who covered her grin with her hand.
“It's not funny,” I snapped.
“You’re right,” she threw back. “It’s adorable.” She craned her neck to look at Wilder, who was holding Imogen’s hands and swinging his ass with her as she danced excitedly to one of the pop songs blaring from Gabby’s cell. “Look how gentle he is with her.”
Cash barked a laugh.
“It’s not funny!” I repeated.
“He loves blondes,” Cara admitted by way of explanation. “He’s fascinated with Ned and Elise’s hair. It’s probably because Immie’s blonde too.”
“Plus, she’s a pretty little thing,” Cash added under his breath. “And he is a Stone boy.”
A sharp pain shot through my chest. “Stop that shit!” I barked.
Atlas hooted a laugh.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Cara admonished, turning to Cash. “Go get Wilder away from Imogen before Donovan here has a damned conniption.”
Cash heaved out a breath before prowling away.
Rosie rested a hand on my arm. “They’re only kids. He’s just taken with her, and honestly, it seems Immie’s pretty taken with him, too. As long as he’s careful with her, what’s the harm?”
“Wilder doesn’t really mix with the other kids,” Cara interjected. “He’s a loner because he doesn’t have much in common with the others, so I love that he’s drawn to Immie. I know he’s a little shit and the jury’s still out on whether my boy’s loopy in the head, but he isn’t mean or nasty. If he likes Imogen, he’ll look after her. He’ll be a good friend for her to have.”
My head tipped back, and I looked to the sky. “Jesus.”
Rosie laughed softly, then crooned, “My poor man’s getting a sneak peek of fifteen years into the future.”
I glanced at her, scraping my hand down my face, my gut churning like a goddamned washing machine.
That was when a mini roar filled the air.
Every eye turned to Wilder as he yelled, “No!” at Cash, who stood, staring down at his son with his hands on his hips.
“Come on, Son,” he ordered. “Imogen’s dad wants her.”
Wilder’s eyes narrowed to slits and his little hands balled into fists as he stared up at his dad, his face turning purple with rage. “No!” he shouted again, then followed up with two words spoken so gutturally that they made my blood turn to ice.
“Immie’s mine!”
The garden fell silent except for Rosie’s sharp intake of breath.
