Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Romeo
The clubhouse was loud at three in the afternoon, filled with the usual mix of music, arguments, and the crack of pool balls from the other side of the room. I sat at a table near the back, phone in my hand, paying attention to exactly none of it.
Fiona had kissed me.
Technically, I’d kissed her after she told me to, but the distinction didn’t matter much when I could still remember the way she’d pulled me closer and followed my mouth every time I tried to slow down.
My phone buzzed.
Ma Belle: I’ve been thinking about something you said
I smiled.
Me: That can’t be good.
Ma Belle: You said once you started, you wouldn’t want to stop.
Me: I was right.
Ma Belle: You stopped
Me: I said I wouldn’t want to. I didn’t say I wouldn’t.
Ma Belle: I didn’t ask you to
My jaw tightened.
Me: I know.
Ma Belle: I could kiss you again
Me: You could.
Ma Belle: I could do more than kiss you
Christ, she was trying to kill me. I glanced up around the room; the few brothers that were here weren’t paying any attention to me—thank fuck.
Me: Baby.
Ma Belle: Is that a warning?
Me: It’s a plea for mercy.
Ma Belle: I don’t feel merciful
Me: No, you’re feeling brave now that there are several hundred miles between us.
Ma Belle: I’d say it to your face
Me: I know you would. That’s the problem.
Ma Belle: Why is that a problem?
Me: Because I’m trying very fucking hard to be good with you.
Ma Belle: I didn’t ask you to be good
Me: I’m aware.
Ma Belle: Then stop
Me: Nice try, Cher.
Ma Belle: You want me
Me: You know damn well I do.
Ma Belle: I like hearing you say it
Me: I noticed you’ve gotten a lot bolder since that kiss.
Ma Belle: Maybe now I know I wasn’t imagining it.
Me: Imagining what?
Ma Belle: The way you look at me.
Me: You weren’t imagining a fucking thing.
Ma Belle: Good
Me: There’s that brave girl again.
Ma Belle: You liked me better when I was confused?
Me: Hell no. I like knowing you want me.
Ma Belle: But you’re still going to make me wait
Me: A little.
Ma Belle: You’re annoying
Me: And you’re trying to talk me out of having a conscience.
Ma Belle: Is it working?
Me: More than I’m comfortable admitting.
Ma Belle: Good
Me: Keep that up, Ma Belle.
Ma Belle: Or what?
Me: See—that right there is exactly why I need the conscience.
I set the phone on the table and rubbed a hand over my mouth.
She was going to kill me.
For months, I’d been careful because Fiona needed time to understand what existed between us without me deciding it for her.
Apparently, all that patience had created a new problem.
Now that she knew exactly how much I wanted her, she’d decided to test how far she could push before all that restraint disappeared.
The answer was not very fucking far.
Winchester dropped into the chair across from me and folded his arms over his chest. “Is it true?”
I picked up my beer. “Is what true?”
“You having an old lady.”
The bottle stopped halfway to my mouth.
Winchester watched me with the same expression he used when a prospect tried to bullshit him. There wasn’t any judgment in it, only the expectation that I answer.
Fiona wasn’t technically my old lady.
Not yet.
That didn’t make my answer any less certain.
“Yeah.”
Winchester nodded as if I’d confirmed something he already knew. “Figured. You’ve been glued to that phone for months.”
“That obvious?”
“To anyone paying attention.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “So why hasn’t there been a vote?”
I glanced toward the bar.
King sat beside Grace with a beer in his hand, looking considerably less homicidal than he had the last time Fiona’s name came up between us. The man had given me one instruction beneath all the yelling and threats.
Do this right.
I’d thought I already understood what that meant. Then Fiona kissed me and made the distinction even clearer. There was a hell of a difference between knowing she wanted me and deciding what she wanted next.
“It isn’t time.”
Winchester’s eyebrows rose. “Brother, you’ve been obsessed with this girl since Christmas. If you’re serious, what the hell are you waiting for?”
“Her.”
He frowned.
“She knows I want her now. I’m pretty sure she knows I’m serious too. That doesn’t mean she understands everything that comes with becoming an old lady.”
“You think she’ll say no?”
I looked down at my phone.
Fiona had already admitted there was something she wasn’t ready to tell me. I didn’t know what it was, and the fact that she believed it might change how I saw her bothered me more than the secret itself.
“No. I think she has enough people in her life deciding what’s best for her. I’m not becoming another one.”
Winchester studied me for a moment. “This about her past?”
“Partly.”
“She tell you?”
“Pieces.” I took a drink. “The rest will come when she’s ready.”
My phone buzzed again.
Ma Belle: Are you busy?
Me: Never too busy for you, Cher. Just talking to a brother.
Ma Belle: Tell them I said hi
Me: They don’t know you exist yet.
Ma Belle: Why not?
I smiled.
Me: Because I’m selfish and I’m not ready to share you.
Winchester glanced at the phone. “And you’re waiting for her to tell you whatever she’s holding back?”
“I’m waiting for her to decide she wants to tell me. There’s a difference.”
His expression shifted, the teasing fading. “You really love her.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah.”
Saying it out loud didn’t feel nearly as terrifying as I expected.
Maybe because I’d known for a long fucking time.
“Then why not bring her here?” he asked. “Let her meet the brothers. Put it to a vote once she sees what she’d be stepping into.”
“Because I want her to choose me before the club gets wrapped around that decision. Once I put my cut on her back, this whole place becomes part of it.” I nodded toward the room around us. “She deserves to know she chose Jasper before everybody starts calling her Romeo’s old lady.”
Winchester leaned back and considered that.
King’s accusation in Rosewood had pissed me off, but there had been enough truth beneath it to matter.
I had thirteen years on Fiona. More experience with relationships, sex, clubs, and nearly every other part of adult life.
Pretending none of that affected the balance between us would’ve made me exactly the kind of asshole King feared I might be.
Fiona was changing that balance herself.
Every time she pushed back. Every time she told me what she wanted instead of waiting for me to decide. Every time she called me on my bullshit.
Especially that kiss.
“You know most men in this club would’ve claimed her the second they made up their mind,” Winchester said.
“Most men in this club are assholes.”
He laughed. “Fair enough.”
The phone buzzed again.
Ma Belle: You still there?
Me: Always.
Ma Belle: Good
My chest tightened before I could do a damn thing about it.
Winchester caught the look on my face and shook his head. “You’re fucked.”
“Deeply.”
He laughed again, then stood with his beer. “When she’s ready, let me know. You’ve got my vote.”
“Appreciate it.”
He started away, then stopped. “For what it’s worth, giving her a choice is the right call.”
I looked at him.
“Doesn’t make you less of a possessive asshole,” he added. “Just means you’re a possessive asshole with some sense.”
“There it is.”
He grinned and walked away.
I looked back at Fiona’s message.
Good.
One word, but there was nothing uncertain about it.
She liked knowing I was there. She liked knowing I wanted her. A week ago, I might’ve taken those things and started planning how fast I could put an old lady cut on her back.
Now I wanted something different first.
I wanted Fiona to walk into this clubhouse knowing exactly why she was there.
Not because I’d claimed her before she understood the rules. Not because some family curse said she belonged to me. Not because I’d decided a future for both of us and expected her to step into it.
Because she chose it.
My phone buzzed again.
Ma Belle: I should let you go. You’re probably busy.
Me: I don’t want you to go.
Ma Belle: I know. But you need to focus on your brothers.
Me: I need you.
Ma Belle: Soon
Me: Not soon enough.
Ma Belle: Goodnight, Jasper.
Me: Dors bien, Ma Belle. Dream of me.
Ma Belle: Always
I leaned back in the chair and read the last word again.
Always.
Fiona had spent months avoiding anything that sounded permanent. Lately, those words slipped out more often.
Always.
Soon.
I want you.
None of them were promises, and I wouldn’t turn them into one just because I wanted them to be.
But they were hers.
That made them worth waiting for.