STELLA

I could feel eyes on me. He was always watching me in some way. I knew he thought I didn’t know, but I did. How, I couldn’t tell you. Maybe it was like a spidey sense.

The guys had just gone into the war room. All of them were on edge, especially since the car accident that injured Charlotte, little Shiloh, and me… and killed Dundee. My heart ached every time I thought of the funny prospect. He was such a lovely guy. Always smiling and willing to do his duties so he could become a full patch. Laying him to rest tomorrow was going to be hard for everyone but especially for Booth. He felt so much guilt over what was happening to the club. He didn’t go into too much detail with me. I could go ask Charlotte for information as she knew more than any of the girls, but Booth wouldn’t like that.

And because he and I had been so much better since my brush with death, I didn’t want to rock the boat. This was the longest we had gone without him getting mad at me or throwing the thing he had with the club’s soul girl Ingrid in my face.

I hated that he turned to her. Surely, he knew how I felt about him. I certainly didn’t make it a secret. It killed me every time she walked down that hallway to his room. The sway of her hips in the denim booty shorts she liked to wear screamed confidence. They also screamed ‘I’m having sex with Booth, and you’re not, so na-na na-na na-na.’

Throwing the tea towel in the sink, I hissed from the pain the movement caused. Dammit. My ribs were taking forever to heal. Deck was onto to me, I knew it. Charlotte said as much. But with my latest injuries, the guys wouldn’t be able to tell how I got them. But my time was running out. I knew it. Asking my friend to keep a secret from her man wasn’t something I was proud of doing. I just needed a little longer to give my ribs and stomach time to get better, and it wouldn’t look so bad.

“Stella, has you gots my food for my tea party with Vinnie?”

I turned around from my place at the sink and hid yet another hiss. Moving too fast was not a good idea, either. Covering my reaction with a laugh, I nodded. Shiloh was standing in the kitchen, dressed in a pink tutu, a pink camo leotard, and her ever-present black shitkickers. Her only other accessory being her arm cast, which, thanks to her bodyguard, Darth, was now sporting a wonderful drawing of the club’s insignia, the one the guys all had on the backs of their leather cuts.

“Yes, little Miss Shiloh. I have everything ready for you, and it is all set up in the dance room. Winnie is already in there with her cat house. The table is set up, and the food will be there in two minutes.” I rattled off my list to my favourite girl. It was so hard to find anything of her mother in her. She was all her father with dark hair and blue eyes. She had the sweetest little pixie voice you had ever heard and a plethora of military clothes and tutus. Her mother and I were very good friends. When she’d died, it was very difficult, but having Shiloh as a reminder of Zoe made it easier.

I refrained from commenting on the name she called Booth. He hated his first name. Personally, I loved it. Vincent—a strong name for a fiercely loyal man with a heart the size of Texas. Charlotte called him Vincent and seemed to be getting away with it so far, but with her sweet nature and her sincere personality, I didn’t think anyone would tell her off for anything. I could be jealous of the fact Charlotte could call him that and not reprimanded the way he does me, but she honestly meant no harm calling him that. She didn’t have a mean bone in her body. She had become a fast friend over the last couple of months. Her relationship with Deck was fast but no less serious. Those two were meant to be together.

“Stella, are youse listening to me?” Shiloh questioned me, freeing me from my thoughts.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie. What did you say?”

Shiloh let out a huff, shaking her head, her raven curls flying around her face. “Youse not wearing your listening ears, woman!”

I had to turn my head so Shiloh didn’t see me laugh. Deck was trying to get her out of the habit of what he called ‘parroting’—I had heard Darth use the phrase with Vegas, who was his one woman here at the club, but he hadn’t claimed her yet. Vegas was one of the most beautiful women I had ever laid eyes on, and Darth adored her, so why he was prolonging the inevitable was totally beyond all the other ladies of the Wounded Souls MC.

“Terribly sorry, Squirt. How about you go meet your date in the dance room, and I will bring out your refreshments,” I said in my best maid’s voice. Shiloh had at least five tea parties a week, and I had a standing invitation every Wednesday. The men of the club loved it when it was their turn. They didn’t bother to hide their enjoyment. Shiloh had a gift. She brought them in and made them laugh. She was the funniest three-nearly-four-year-old.

“Okey dokey, my honey,” Shiloh yelled as she ran out of the kitchen. But I didn’t laugh that time. My honey? Who was she parroting? Only one man said that around here. The man I was hopelessly and completely in love with. The man who didn’t want me. The man whose eyes were always on me, confusing me to the extreme. He saw me as an annoyance that cleaned his club and made it smell too girly. I tried to remember if he had called me that while Shiloh was within listening distance. Or had she heard it in the war room? She was the only female allowed in that room. Booth sometimes looked after her while he was working or if the guys had a meeting and Vegas or I couldn’t watch her. She had a playhouse in there plus zillions of toys. But now that Charlotte was here, her visits to the war room had lessened. So when did she hear Booth say it? The question plagued me as I finished the food for Shiloh and Booth’s date. Placing everything on the tray, I added a few flowers from the vase of gerberas I had on the bench. With everything I needed, I carefully took off for the other side of the main room.

“Vinnie, Stella is here.” Shiloh’s excited cry reached my ears before I had even entered the dance room. When Deck made this room for Charlotte and Rainn, he made sure he added an area for Shiloh to sit and play. His only restriction was that no one danced inappropriately on the poles while she was in the room.

My smile faded as I entered the room to find Booth with his usual scowl on his face. It was my scowl. For others, he had smirks, grins, even flat-out huge face-splitting smiles on occasion. For me, it was a scowl.

“I can see that, Squirt. I can also see she is putting in some overtime. Aren’t you supposed to be off for the afternoon? You don’t need to be here until dinnertime,” he said with a growl. He was always growling at me. Could I ever do anything right for him? Would his words ever stop hitting me right in the heart and not in a good way?

I put the tray down on the small table Shiloh had set up for her tea party. Her dolls were sitting on the spare seats around the table, her dogs—Bullet and Trigger, which were really Steel’s dogs—were sitting underneath the table, getting ready to catch all the scraps they knew the little girl was going to drop. The huge white cat, Winnie, was off to the side on her massive scratching post slash cat castle, warily eyeing the German shepherds.

I tried not to let Booth see that his words cut me, that they destroyed me every single time.

“No need to worry, boss. I’m off the clock—have been for the last hour. I’m just hanging around to finish the last of the prep for Dundee’s wake tomorrow and to get this sorted out for the squirt,” I said as cheerily as I could. I called him boss at times when he said means things like he just had. God forbid he paid me for another hour.

“Stella, please, I didn’t mean—”

“Okay, Shiloh, here we go,” I said, cutting him off quickly from the apology he didn’t mean. “See you at the wake tomorrow. Bye, Squirt,” I said with a wiggle of my fingers at Shiloh, careful to avoid Booth’s grey pools. They were my weakness—one of them, anyway.

“Bye-byes, pretty girl,” she said in a singsong voice, melting my heart. God, that girl. Dropping a kiss on the top of her head, I turned to leave, only to be pulled back by Booth. His grip was far from hard, but my arm was a little tender. So the way he gripped me hurt just a little, and I couldn’t help the small hiss of pain.

“What? Are you sore there from the accident?” The hard edge to his voice changed to one of worry as he eyed my arm. The long-sleeved T-shirt covered any proof, but I couldn’t let him see. If he did, he would know for sure it didn’t happen because of the accident. So instead of lying to him, I just nodded. If I didn’t say yes aloud to him, it wasn’t a lie, right?

He was still holding my arm, carefully now, and I just wanted to cry.

Why couldn’t he be soft and gentle with me all the time? Surely, he could see how I felt. Booth was fifteen years older, but our age difference meant nothing to me. Was that what was holding him back? Or was it just me? Maybe I smelled. Shaking my head, I suddenly needed to escape from the compound.

“Stella, maybe you should go back to the doctor. Charlotte is healing nicely, and the squirt’s bruises have faded away. If it not for her cast, you wouldn’t know what happened six days ago. Yours seem to be coming out more and more every day,” he said, looking pointedly at the new bruise on the side of my jaw. Dammit. Nothing got past this man. I noticed Deck looking at me a few days, too. He had been suspicious for a while now and even got Charlotte in on the act, which had her questioning my bruises during our dramatic road trip. I had begged off then, and she knew I had because she could see it was upsetting me. She warned me that she was going to Deck with her concerns sooner rather than later. I couldn’t blame her, but I had no idea what to do. I was stuck. Hopelessly stuck.

“I’m fine, Booth. Really, stop worrying. It’s okay.” I tried to pull my arm free from his hold. I really needed to get out of there.

His look of concern, though, was pulling me towards him. All of a sudden, I had an urge to soothe him. Reaching out with my free hand, I placed it on his stubbled jaw. It was strong, chiselled, and kissable. Everything about Vincent Booth was kissable. Even when he was being a dick, I wanted to kiss him. God, I was pathetic. Hello, doormat anyone? But damn his eyes were unbelievable. They were the most beautiful grey eyes I had ever seen. Okay, so I hadn’t seen many men with grey eyes, but I was sure if I did, Booth’s would be the best. His hair sat on his shoulders but not too long, certainly not like Darth’s long locks that he kept up in a sexy man bun. God, I was surrounded by sexy men.

Booth leaned into my touch. He normally didn’t allow too much contact between the two of us, so when we did touch, I enjoyed it. His three-day growth was scratchy against my skin, and damn if I didn’t want to feel it between my thighs. I shivered at the image that was playing in my head. Of course, I had no idea what that would really feel like, but I watched Pornhub, and the ladies on those videos seemed to think it was the best thing that had ever happened to them.

I watched his eyes close for a second, and then he shocked me as he turned his mouth and pressed a kiss to my palm. Oh, God. It was something he had never done. After the car accident, he’d held me in his arms when the hospital released me, holding me on the drive home in the truck. Not his truck, as we’d totalled that one, the rueful thought passed through my mind. But this was the first time he had kissed me. His warm, wet lips branded me. Could a woman orgasm from a kiss on the hand? Or was that just me?

“Stella?” My name coming from his lips was gruff with a growly moan. He almost sounded desperate. Why?

Looking at him, I could see his gaze had dropped from my face to my… what? Following his eyes, I looked down at my chest, and I nearly died. My long-sleeved shirt might have been hiding the bruises on my arm and sides, but it did nothing to hide my erect nipples. Desperate much, Stella? Jeez, what an idiot.

Mortified, I yanked my arm from Booth. “I have to go. See you later.” I ignored the burning pain in my arm and ran like hell out of there. You can call me a coward if you want, but I don’t care. I called it self-preservation. I didn’t stop as I went through the main room, not even when I heard Booth’s booming voice as he called out my name.