1
CROSS
Outside near the main barn at Winslet Orchard and Farms, I helped haul crates filled with plastic pastel eggs that rattled with candy and toys, still not sure how the hell I'd gotten roped into this Bunny Day event. Rebel had a lot to answer for when it came to this farm stuff, but it was hard to begrudge him anything after seeing him settle down so fucking content with his woman. Clara had brought something solid into his life, grounding my Hounds of Hellfire MC club brother in a way that made him a hell of a lot easier to be around.
And we were paid in the most amazing pies I’d ever tasted.
I hoisted another crate onto the hay wagon, the muscles in my arms tightening as I adjusted the weight. Sweat clung to my back beneath my cut, the late morning sun beating down and warming the leather. Families already streamed into the orchard, excited kids darting in every direction while their parents laughed and tried to keep up. The whole place buzzed with anticipation, and I enjoyed the scent of apples, grass, and fresh air, which somehow felt uniquely tied to this property.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, breaking my thoughts. I pulled it out, wiping a hand across my brow as Rebel’s name flashed on the screen, the text simple but firm.
Rebel
Get to the store. Now.
I frowned, already moving, my boots crunching against the gravel path as I strode quickly across the crowded orchard grounds toward the farm store. Rebel wasn’t one to demand attention unless it was urgent, but I wasn’t picking up on any immediate tension. Still, I moved faster, alert and ready for whatever shitstorm might be waiting.
The store’s bell jingled as I shoved the door open and stepped inside, scanning the rustic space for my club brother. Rebel stood by the checkout counter with Clara tucked protectively under one arm, both of them looking uncharacteristically tense. In front of them was a petite blonde, standing rigidly still, her small frame almost vibrating with tension. She had a white-knuckled grip on the handle of a baby carrier, and her expression was a fierce mixture of exhaustion, anger, and stubborn determination that screamed louder than words.
Then her gaze swung sharply toward me, those deep, expressive brown eyes colliding with mine, and everything felt like it stopped.
Fuck.
The air seemed to leave my lungs in a brutal rush, my entire body locking tight in a reaction I’d never experienced before. My muscles went rigid, every nerve ending standing at painful attention as my focus narrowed completely onto the woman before me. Awareness hit me like a damn freight train, a visceral, overpowering sensation that sank into every inch of me.
My gaze swept over her slowly and hungrily. She was around five-three, her narrow frame deceptively delicate with soft curves that flared gently at her hips and tits. The kind that could drive a man to his fucking knees without even trying. Her golden-blond hair shone naturally in the sunlight streaming through the store’s windows, framing a pale but flawless face.
She wore minimal makeup, just enough to highlight the rich brown depths of her eyes and the stubborn line of her full lips. Her pale-yellow sundress hugged those incredible tits in a way that made my mouth water, the soft cardigan she’d thrown over her shoulders doing nothing to hide the lush curves that begged for my hands, mouth, and cock.
Her eyes widened slightly when they locked with mine, shock flashing briefly across her features. But she didn’t shrink away or hesitate. Instead, she squared her slender shoulders, her gaze sparking with a fierce mix of anger, challenge, and something deeper. I couldn't quite decipher what it was yet, but I was more than willing to find out.
A possessive heat surged through my veins, and my cock thickened instantly behind my zipper in an instinctive reaction stronger than any I’d felt before. The intensity of the urge startled me. The rush of desire and ownership that roared up from somewhere deep inside was unmistakable. And the ridiculous thought that immediately followed was crystal fucking clear.
Mine.
What the fuck?
I barely had time to let that strangely possessive word settle into my brain before the beautiful blonde stormed toward me. Her narrowed gaze was fierce, her small frame vibrating with a tightly restrained anger I could practically feel rolling off her.
Without warning, she thrust the carrier into my chest, forcing me to grab the bottom reflexively to keep from droppingit. I glanced down, my eyes landing on the infant who blinked up at me with wide, innocent eyes. My gut twisted with instant, overwhelming confusion. And something warmer…but again, I had no time to process my feelings. Before I could say anything, the woman’s voice sliced into me, brittle with fury and something deeper that sounded suspiciously like pain.
“You’re a hard man to find, Griffin.” The tightness in her voice and restrained tremble of her full, tempting lips caught me off guard. “Here. This is Isa—I mean Isabella. The baby’s mother, Rea Tolland, passed away three months ago. Since you’re her dad, she’s your responsibility now.”
Shock slammed into me so hard my head went completely fucking blank. My entire world shrank down to just those few words. I stared at her dumbly, my mouth opening and closing several times. My voice came out in a harsh rasp as I finally managed to sputter, “What the fuck are you talking about? Who the hell is Rea Tolland? I’m not a?—”
I couldn’t even finish the sentence. A father? That wasn’t even fucking possible.
I’d never been a man for one-night stands or meaningless hookups. And it’d been so damn long I could barely remember my last relationship.
I had no fucking clue who the woman she mentioned was. The name rang no bells. Nothing about this made sense.
But instead of backing down, the woman’s expression hardened, a shadow of something deeper and far more painful flickering through those big, expressive eyes. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember your one-night stand, but apparently, she sure remembered you because she listed you as the father on the birth certificate. Congratulations, Dad.”
The bitter sarcasm in her voice and brief flash of raw, unguarded hurt in her eyes hit me like a punch to the gut. For half a second, my confusion shifted to something else entirely—a fierce need to reach for her and soothe away whatever pain I’d caused. But before I could fully register that feeling, she glanced down at the baby one last time.
Her gaze softened, and her lips trembled. For a split second, I thought she might cry right there in front of me. Then just as suddenly, her jaw firmed, her shoulders squared, and she spun around, turning her back on me as she stormed toward the exit.
My mind spun wildly, a thousand conflicting thoughts battling for dominance. Part of me wanted to chase her and demand answers so I could figure out what the hell was really going on here. But a primal instinct screamed that I couldn’t let her leave—that something in my world would be fundamentally fucking wrong if she walked out that door.
