Page 8 of Hard as Stone (Stoneheart MC #2)

POPPY

“ I don’t understand.” I lean against the counter at the permits office, trying not to show my frustration since I know it won’t get me anywhere.

“We submitted these forms last week for the funds we need to complete the Iron Way reconstruction. The clerk double checked them for me and said they’d be processed by now. ”

Ethel, who’s probably been working at town hall since before roads existed, peers at me through glasses that magnify her eyes to owl-like proportions. “I’m sorry, dear, but there seems to be some... confusion about your paperwork. Perhaps you could resubmit?”

I bite back a groan. I’m so tired of this paperwork game the city keeps playing.

They hired us to do a job and they make it almost impossible to get anything done.

We can’t start the next phase of repairs until these permits clear, the materials are on order, but we can’t even pay for them if these funds don’t come through. “What kind of confusion, exactly?”

“Well...” She shuffles through papers with painful slowness. “It seems some of the required signatures are... missing.”

“Missing?” I force my voice to stay pleasant. “But I watched the mayor sign them myself. We need to start on that storm drain system before the end of the month or we won’t make the schedule your office set for us.”

Ethel shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “I understand, dear. But these things take time. And with the recent... changes to our approval process, well...” She trails off, avoiding my gaze.

My eyes narrow. “What changes?”

“Oh, nothing for you to worry about.” Ethel waves a dismissive hand. “Just some new oversight procedures. To ensure everything’s up to code, you understand?”

I don’t understand. At all. But I can smell bullshit when it’s being served, even if it’s coming from a sweet old lady who probably knits sweaters for her cats.

“You’ll have to fill these out.” She pushes the exact forms I already submitted across the counter.

“That’s what I already gave you.”

“No, dear. Section fourteen is now a three-part question.”

“Can I just re-do section fourteen?”

“No, dear.” She nudges the forms closer, giving me a sweet smile.

“Fine,” I say, gritting my teeth and suddenly hating being called ‘dear’. “I’ll fill these forms out. Again. And get them signed. Also again. Is there anything else we need to do to make sure they’re processed this time?”

Ethel leans close to her computer screen and squints. “I don’t think so…” she says slowly, but I don’t think either one of us is convinced she knows a thing about what’s going on.

Two men in expensive suits exit a back office, their hushed conversation catching my attention.

“Summit wants this wrapped up by—” The speaker cuts off when he spots me, offering a thin smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Miss Bennett.” He nods my way before quickly moving on.

I give a similar nod as I clutch my papers tighter, remembering similar suits at our road sites whenever they want something done ‘quickly’. Generally when we’re working on the east—aka the wealthy—side of town. They give me the creeps.

“See you around, Ethel,” I say, backing away and leaving town hall with nothing but a headache and a fresh stack of forms to fill out. The morning sun is already baking the sidewalk, and I’m debating between coffee or something stronger when a familiar rumble has me freezing mid-step.

The man of my dirty dreams pulls up to the curb, cutting his engine. Even with his sunglasses on, I can feel the weight of his stare.

“You again? And you accused me of stalking when I literally have to drive past your clubhouse to get home,” I tease when he tilts his chin to acknowledge me.

“You’re the one standing there staring at me, sweetheart.”

“Please.” I roll my eyes. “You’re the one who keeps showing up wherever I am. A month of riding by me every time I’m working on the roads. Then you’re at the bar, then the trailer park, now here?”

His lips quirk up. “It’s a small town, sweetheart. Besides, Devil’s is a biker bar and you know it.”

“Maybe.” I bounce a shoulder, unable to help returning his smile.

There’s something about him that has me always wanting more from our interactions, even when I know I should keep my distance—those one percent patches aren’t talking about the kind of milk they like to drink.

“So, what brings the Road Captain to city hall? Getting permits for a bake sale? Though maybe you should have someone proofread those first.”

He chuckles, swinging off his bike. “You offering up your services?”

“Depends.” I clutch my stack of papers closer. “What’s the pay like?”

Axel raises an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his features. “Pay?” His eyes drop to my chest, then lower before returning to my face. “We could work something out.”

I roll my eyes. “In your dreams, buddy.”

“Every night.”

I swallow hard as he nods at the forms I’m white-knuckling so I don’t climb him like a tree. “What are those?” He pulls his shades from his eyes and tucks them inside his cut. “More roads getting torn up?”

“More bureaucracy to navigate.” I sigh, suddenly tired. “Apparently our paperwork wasn’t right, and I need to fill in new forms or they won’t pay us. Which means the roads will stay just as they are.”

Something flickers in his eyes. “That happen often?”

“Often enough when you’re dealing with government types.

” I shuffle the papers, frowning. “Seems every time we submit paperwork, something goes wrong. Papers get lost, signatures go missing, system glitches stall our payments. It’s difficult enough getting through the red tape in the city, but this small-town bureaucracy is on another level. ”

Axel’s jaw tightens. “That so?”

“Yeah. It’s like...” I trail off, not sure how to explain the nagging feeling I’ve had since we started this project. “It’s like someone’s deliberately making things difficult for us. But that’s crazy, right? I mean, who would want to stall road repairs when it’d make the roads unusable?”

Axel’s expression darkens. “You’d be surprised,” he mutters, almost to himself.

I eye him curiously. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. How’d your family get the contract, anyway?”

“Lowest bid.” I shrug. “Dad’s been in construction his whole life. When he heard about the beautification project, he figured why not try? Didn’t actually expect he’d get it.”

“Just like that? Town hands over a major infrastructure project to an out-of-state crew?”

My spine stiffens. “We might not be locals, but we know what we’re doing. Dad’s got thirty years of experience?—”

“Not questioning your skills, sweetheart.” He holds up his hands. “Just seems strange, is all.”

“Why do you care?”

“MC’s interested in everything that happens in this town.” His eyes lock with mine. “Especially when it involves outsiders tearing up our streets.”

I bristle at his tone. “We’re not ‘tearing up’ anything. We’re fixing roads that have been neglected for years. Making things better for everyone.”

“Everyone?” Axel raises an eyebrow. “Or just the folks on the right side of town?”

“What are you trying to say here?”

He steps closer, voice low. “You notice where all these ‘improvements’ are happening? Not exactly messing with the east side, are they?”

I open my mouth to argue, but pause as I mentally review our project map.

He’s right—most of the work we can’t complete has been concentrated on the west side of town in the less affluent areas.

But surely that’s just because it’s in worse shape and needs more done.

The east side of town already has nicer roads and infrastructure, so the fixes are quicker, easier.

Less work means less hoops to jump through to get approval.

“I think the trouble is just that those areas need the most work,” I say, but there’s less conviction in my voice now.

“We’re not doing anything on purpose. Only following the plans the city gave us, and sometimes they tell us to wait while they…

I don’t know. I guess they’re realizing there’s more work to do and they need to implement more oversight? ” Even I’m not sure I’m making sense.

“Seems to me that these delays are only inconveniencing one class of citizen around here.”

I take a step back, suddenly very aware that I’m alone with a dangerous man talking about topics that could get me into a bunch of trouble. My brothers’ voices have never been louder in the back of my mind with their don’t-mess-with-the-MC warnings.

“Look,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, “I don’t know what you’re implying, but we’re just here to do a job. Fix the roads, get paid, and move on to the next town. That’s it.”

Axel’s search my face. “If you say so, sweetheart.”

I bristle at his condescending tone. “I do say so. And stop calling me sweetheart.”

Axel’s lips quirk up. “What should I call you then?”

“Poppy. My name is Poppy.”

“All right, Poppy.” The way he says my name sends an unwelcome shiver down my spine. “Just be careful. This town has a way of chewing up and spitting out folks who don’t know what they’re getting into.”

“Is that a threat?” I narrow my eyes at him.

“A warning.” He steps closer, his voice dropping low. “This town isn’t what it seems. And neither are the people running it.”

I force myself to stand my ground, even as my heart races at his proximity. “Thanks for the cryptic advice, Road Captain. But I think I can handle myself.”

His eyes flick down to my mouth for a split second before meeting mine again. “I don’t doubt that. Just... watch your back, Poppy. And if you need help, you know where to find me.”

“I don’t, actually. You’re the one who keeps finding me,” I say, trying to act like his closeness does nothing to me.

Axel’s lips quirk up in a half-smile. “Devil’s. Most nights after eight. Or I’m at the clubhouse. If you need anything.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And what could I possibly need from you?”

“A rematch.” His grin takes me from wary to wet in an instant.

“A rematch?” I scoff, but my pulse quickens at his suggestion. “I think we both know how that would end.”

“Do we?” Axel leans in closer, his voice low and gravelly. “Because I seem to remember things going a bit differently last time.”

I roll my eyes, but can’t quite suppress my smile. “Only because you cheated.”

“Then prove me wrong.” Axel shifts back. “Unless you’re scared of the big, bad biker.”

I scoff. “Please. I’m not scared of you or your pool skills.”

“OK then,” he says, leaning in again, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his body. “Tonight. eight o’clock. Devil’s. If you win, I’ll buy you dinner.”

I open my mouth to refuse—getting involved with a man who both terrifies and turns me on is probably the worst choice I could possibly make. But then my phone buzzes. And when I pull it out of my pocket, it lights up with a text from Felix.

Felix

What’s for dinner?

I stare at my phone, feeling a wave of frustration wash over me. It’s not even noon, and they’re already asking about dinner. As if I don’t have enough on my plate with these permit issues and trying to keep our project on track.

I can already picture how the evening will go. I’ll spend all day wrestling with paperwork and city officials, then drag myself home bone-tired only to be greeted by a chorus of, “What’s for dinner?” and, “Where are my clean socks?” and, “The shower’s dripping again, can you fix it?”

It’ll be hours of catering to their needs, cooking and cleaning while they lounge around complaining about their hard day.

And god forbid I suggest they help out—you’d think I was asking them to perform brain surgery.

By the time I finally get a moment to myself, I’ll be too exhausted to do anything but fall into bed, only to wake up and do it all over again tomorrow.

“You know what?” I start, sliding my phone back into my pocket as I look back up at Axel. “I’ll take that bet. And when I win, I want a big, juicy steak. The kind that melts in your mouth and costs more than my hourly wage.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “In that case, I might just have to let you win so I can watch you savor a big, juicy piece of meat.”

“Oh, you wish.” His words make heat pool low in my belly. “But I don’t need any favors from you. I’ll win fair and square. And I’ll make you wear a blindfold while I’m eating—I’m not entertaining your meat kink.”

I turn on my heel, ready to make a dramatic exit, but Axel’s voice stops me.

“Hey, Poppy?”

I glance back over my shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, Road Captain?”

Axel’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he smirks. “Wear something nice. When I win, I want to take you someplace that doesn’t serve beer in plastic cups.”

“Isn’t that what happens when I win?”

“Not if you’re wearing a dress.”

I roll my eyes, but can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “In your dreams, Road Captain.”

“My daydreams too,” he calls after me as I walk away, flipping him off without looking back while doing a mental inventory of my closet—do I even own a dress?