The evening moves on, the bikers getting rowdier as the night deepens. I’m getting another drink when I notice them.
Isabel is sitting on the back porch steps, Lily drowsing against her shoulder. The little girl’s arms are wrapped around that ratty stuffed rabbit—Mr. Flopsy, she calls him—and her eyes are at half-mast, fighting sleep.
Steel is leaning against the porch post nearby, telling Isabel something that makes her almost-smile. Which for Isabel ispractically hysterical laughter. He’s relaxed in a way I haven’t seen before, his usual guardedness softened.
And Brick...
Brick is watching from across the yard.
He’s not obvious about it. He’s in conversation with Tank, nodding at whatever’s being said, his massive frame somehow managing to look casual. But his eyes keep drifting back to that porch.
Steel notices. His jaw tightens, just slightly.
Oh. That’s going to be interesting.
Isabel, oblivious to both of them, adjusts Lily’s weight and says something that makes Steel laugh.
Brick’s beer bottle creaks in his grip.
Well, damn.
Stone appears at my elbow. “What are you looking at?”
“Nothing.” I turn to face him.
“Is it the Isabel situation?”
“You noticed too?”
“Hard not to.” He glances toward the porch. “Steel’s been hovering since the day he met her. And Brick hasn’t stopped watching her since he brought her home.”
“Does that concern you?”
“Not yet.” He pulls me against him. “Right now, I’m more concerned with making sure my woman knows she’s the only one I’m watching.”
“Smooth.”
“I try.”
He kisses me—soft and sweet in front of everyone—and I let myself sink into it. Into him. Into this life I never expected to want.
I fit here.
The realization settles over me like a warm blanket.
I truly fit here.
18
STONE
Ican’t stop watching her.
The party’s been going for a couple of hours now, and somewhere along the way Josie slipped out of my orbit and into everyone else’s. Josie a natural hostess—chatting with Kya by the drinks table, laughing with Maggie, letting Ginger rope her into a conversation that involves a lot of hand gestures and knowing looks.
Mine.
“You’re staring, Prez.”
