Page 2 of Hard as Stone (Stoneheart MC #2)

AXEL

“ S mell that?” I call over my shoulder to the pack of bikes behind me. “That’s what freedom smells like.”

The morning sun paints the mountains in shades of gold as I lead the brothers on a run through winding back roads.

It’s still cool enough that my leathers don’t feel like a second skin, but not so warm that the scent of hot asphalt fills my nostrils.

Instead, the wind is carrying hints of pine and the roadside wildflowers. Perfect riding weather.

Or it would be perfect if I could get that damn traffic girl and her incessant gum chewing out of my head. Why is it that all I can think about is plucking it from between those juicy lips of hers and putting it between mine? The fuck is wrong with me?

“Taking the long way today?” Lee pulls his bike alongside mine at a red light, shouting over the rumble of engines.

I jerk my chin toward the ‘ROAD CLOSED’ sign blocking our usual route back to town. “City’s got half the roads torn up. Gotta go around.”

Lee’s grin turns sharp. “Sure that’s the only reason?”

I shoot him a look that would have the prospects pissing themselves. Lee just laughs.

“Word is you been getting cock-blocked by a girl with a stop sign lately.”

“Watch it, kid,” I grouch, knowing how much he hates being called that. Lee has been giving me shit since I joined the club and he was still a teen. Perks of being the president’s son—he can get away with running his mouth, but I make sure I give as good as I get now that he’s a full member.

The light turns green and I gun it, leaving Lee’s laughter behind. But I can’t outrun the memory of bright eyes and a bubblegum smile. She stands up to me like I’m just another guy in her way, not someone who could make her life difficult.

It’s... refreshing. Annoying as hell, but refreshing.

We round the bend that would take us back to the clubhouse, and I damn near lay my bike down.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

There she is again, yellow vest making her look like some kind of demented ray of sunshine. Like most days, her long dark hair is pulled back in a messy braid, hard hat perched at an angle that somehow looks sassy.

And she’s grinning at me like the cat that got the cream.

“Morning, Toto!” she calls as I pull to a stop. “You like my new boots?” She clicks her heels together as she fishes into her pocket and pulls out that pack of gum she’s always chomping on.

I blink, momentarily stunned by the sight before me.

This girl, this maddening traffic controller who’s been the bane of my existence since she showed up in Stoneheart, has somehow managed to transform her standard-issue work boots into something straight out of a storybook.

The steel toes are now encrusted with what looks like hundreds of tiny red diamantes, caked in mud, while also still catching the morning sun and throwing off dazzling sparks of crimson light.

They glitter and shine with every slight movement, turning her simple footwear into a pair of honest-to-god ruby slippers—trailer trash edition.

“What in the...” I trail off, unable to find words. The rest of the club pulls up behind me, engines rumbling.

“Cat got your tongue?” she teases, popping a piece of gum in her mouth and chewing with exaggerated movements. “Or should I say, lion, got your tongue?”

I shake my head, trying to clear it. This girl is something else. “You always this extra?” I growl, but there’s laughter under my words. I really don’t want to be, but fuck, I’m amused by her.

She shrugs and holds out her gum to offer me a piece.

“Depends on how bored I get. How about you, Toto? You always this lost? I could help you get home with my ruby slippers if you like.” She clicks her heels and gestures to the signs they have up, using an otherworldly voice while singing, Follow the yellow detour signs, off key.

Behind me, I hear Lee choking on laughter. I decline the gum—and every part of this interaction—with a shake of my head.

“Suit yourself,” she says as she quits singing and shoves the gum packet back in her pocket.

She blows a strawberry scented bubble while looking me dead in the eyes.

Once it’s popped, she chews it back up and tilts her head.

“Do I need to sing a different song for you to figure out you need to find another road to travel down?”

I can feel the eyes of my brothers boring into my back, waiting to see how I’ll handle this curvy firecracker. My jaw clenches as I fight the urge to smile. Damn if she isn’t ballsy.

“Thought I’ve made it clear that I don’t have time for all these detours,” I growl, trying to keep my voice low and menacing. But something about the sparkle in her eyes tells me she’s not buying my tough guy act.

“And I thought I’d made it clear that I’m Dorothy, and you’re Toto in this particular scenario.

And since I’m the one with the ruby slippers, you don’t get to go anywhere beyond my magical signs without my say so,” she retorts, her grin widening.

“But hey, if you want to trade boots and click your heels three times, be my guest. I could use the entertainment.”

I can hear the muffled snickers of my brothers behind me. This girl is making me look like a fool in front of my club. I should be furious. I should be intimidating her into letting us pass. Instead, I find myself fighting back a smile.

“Listen, sweetheart,” I lean forward on my handles and pull my sunglasses down just enough that I can meet her eyes directly. “I’ve got a pack of impatient bikers behind me who aren’t as charmed by your little act as I am. How about you do us both a favor and let us through this time?”

She leans in closer, her scent—a mix of strawberry gum and sunscreen—wafting over me. She’s close enough that I can see the light dusting of freckles across her nose.

“Listen, sugar,” she says, mimicking my tone, “I’ve got a pack of impatient construction workers behind me who aren’t as charmed by your tough act as I am. So, how about you do us both a favor and take a detour like the good boy I know you are?”

“This is the detour I’ve been taking,” I say flatly.

She presses a hand to her chest in mock sympathy.

“Oh honey, I know this is probably hard for you to figure out on your own on account of all the exhaust fumes you must inhale every day. But you’re gonna need to detour the detour.

Stoneheart City Council has a ton of road work they’ve asked us to do as a part of their beautification project.

So you’re gonna need to be flexible so we can do our job.

” She blows a bubble, letting it pop with deliberate slowness.

“But hey, at least you know you’ll get to see my smiling face again.

And again. And again. Something I really enjoy. You’re the highlight of my every day.”

“Do you really need to be this much of a pain in the ass?”

“It’s in the job description, sugar.” She winks. Actually winks at me. “City infrastructure doesn’t fix itself, you know.”

I look past her to where a crew is knee-deep in what looks like a fresh hole in the road.

Two guys who have to be related to her—same dark hair, same shit-eating grin—are arguing over some equipment while an older man barks orders at a bunch of the Summit grunts we saw moving into the temporary housing on the old factory site. Interesting.

“You call what you’re doing here beautification?” I scoff. “It’s been a month of this shit, and so far it just looks more like you’re tearing the place apart.”

She shrugs, still grinning. “Sometimes you gotta break a few eggs to make an omelet. Or, in this case, break a few roads to make a smoother ride.” She’d actually have a point if these works ever get completed.

“How much longer do we have to put up with this?”

She tilts her head, considering. “For you? Extra long. I don’t like your attitude.”

Jesus Christ. This woman is going to drive me insane.

“Listen, sweetheart?—”

“Nope.” She pops another bubble. “The name’s Poppy. And unless you’ve got a better solution for that mess back there”—she jerks a thumb at the construction—“you’re just gonna have to turn that fancy bike around and find another route, same as you have every other day.”

Poppy. It suits her—bright and delicate-looking but tough as hell to dig out once rooted.

“Come on, brother,” Lee calls. “Let the girl do her job. The old man’s waiting on us.”

I circle my bike around her slowly, taking my time.

Can’t help but appreciate how those work pants hug her ass, especially when she plants her hands on her hips and glares at me like she knows exactly what I’m doing.

With a muttered curse, I finally turn toward the detour, but not before catching the little victory dance she does when she thinks I’m not looking.

“The city’s up to something,” Stone, the Club President, says later, his voice carrying from his position at the head of the chapel table. “Construction contracts have gone to some new outfit nobody’s heard of. Local crews are getting shut out. And nothing’s getting done.”

“On that note, we need to add Mrs. Bryant to our list of people Summit is targeting. She stopped by the clubhouse yesterday,” Mack, our Secretary, adds, referring to the notes in front of him.

“Said the council hit her with some bullshit code violations. Wants her to replace her entire front porch.” He looks back up at us.

“Woman’s on a fixed income, can barely afford groceries. ”

“How many residents does that make?” Stone asks.

“In this area? Fifteen in the last month, twenty-two overall.”

“Land taxes went up again last month,” Cash, the club treasurer, notes, shuffling through some papers. “Third time this year. Council’s saying it’s funding the ‘beautification project.’” The air quotes are clear in his tone.