Page 10 of Stitch & Steel

Ten

LOGAN

The porch hadn’t been this quiet all summer.

Not even when the MC boys were passed out after a long haul or the nights when thunder rumbled so loud it drowned out our own engines.

But after Gran’s story?

Every man out here was sitting with his ghosts. Hers had stirred up something deep—something hungry. That taste of real love. The kind you chase your whole damn life and never stop craving once you’ve had it.

Even in her twilight years she couldn’t outrun it.

Even after all these years, she still looked up at that ridge like she was waiting to see him ride over it.

That hit me harder than I expected.

I took a long sip from my beer and let the quiet settle in my chest. The kind of silence that makes you feel everything instead of running from it. Maybe that’s why I didn’t flinch when Bella shifted beside Gran and said, “Alright, I think we’re calling it. It’s late.”

I stood too. “Come on. I’ll walk you up.”

She gave me a soft little eye-roll. “My room is ten feet down the hall.”

“I know.”

I didn’t smile. Didn’t explain.

Just followed her inside.

Scout padded along at her heels, still wide awake like he was on night duty. Little traitor had claimed her bed already, his tail thumping once like he knew he won.

Bella paused at her door, fingers lingering on the knob, her eyes catching mine in the glow from the hallway.

“You’re really walking me to bed like some gentleman in a black-and-white movie?”

I leaned one shoulder against the wall, arms crossed over my chest. “I’ve been worse things.”

She laughed, then got shy all of a sudden, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, thanks… for tonight. For fixing up this place. For…”

She trailed off. But I heard what she didn’t say.

I stepped in close, one hand lifting to her cheek like it belonged there.

“Scout,” I said, glancing over her shoulder at the wolfish dog already sprawled out across her pillows, “you better keep her safe tonight.”

Bella huffed out a laugh. “He’s not exactly a killer.”

I didn’t look away from her. “Then I’ll do the job myself.”

Before she could answer, I kissed her.

Soft, at first. Just a taste.

Then deeper—like I couldn’t help it. Like I needed it.

She gasped against my mouth, hands curling into the fabric of my shirt as I backed her gently against the doorframe. That scent—citrus and summer—flooded my head. She tasted like honeyed tea and promises I wasn’t ready to make out loud yet.

But hell if I wasn’t thinking them.

When I pulled back, her lips were parted, eyes wide.

I brushed my thumb over her lower lip. “Sweet dreams, darlin’.”

Then I turned and walked down the hall before I did something stupid. Like follow her inside and show her every damn reason why I couldn’t sleep without her anymore.

Outside, the stars were stitched across the sky like silver thread. A late-summer breeze curled through the trees, whispering of fall. The fireflies had dimmed, but the night still glowed warm and full.

I stood there, breathing it all in.

The cabin. The mountain. Her.

This was what I wanted. Not just the lust. Not just the need. But the chance.

Bella wasn’t like anyone I’d ever known. She was strong but soft. Sarcastic but kind. She didn’t know how rare she was out here, in a world that often took more than it gave.

And me?

I’d be damned if I let her go without fighting for her.

I was gonna court her, old-school and hard.

And maybe, just maybe…

Convince her that her life wasn’t waiting back in the city?—

It was already here, tucked between these hills and wrapped in the arms of a man who’d guard her with everything he had.

Even his heart.

The woods had been too damn quiet.

Not the kind of peaceful quiet either. The kind that crept up your spine and whispered that something was coming. That something was watching .

But it wasn’t just the woods putting me on edge.

It was her .

Bella had been dancing around me for days. One minute soft and open. The next, steel-spined and sarcastic. She didn’t know how to make up her mind, but hell if I didn’t know exactly where mine was.

I was gone for her.

Had been since the minute I saw her swinging that chainsaw like she had something to prove.

The air was thick that morning. Heavy with unsaid things. Scout had curled up under the porch steps, his big body twitching in sleep, ears twitching with every crack of a branch or chirp of a bird.

Bella sat on the steps sipping iced coffee like it wasn’t strange that I was just there all the time now. She didn’t say anything about it. Neither did I.

But we were circling something bigger. We both knew it.

I set down the wrench and brushed the grease from my hands.

“You free tonight?” I asked.

She gave me a sideways glance. “Why? You need something welded?”

I smirked. “A date.”

She nearly choked on her tea. “A what ?”

“You heard me.”

“No fishing,” she warned.

“Nope. Just you and me and candlelight. A proper date.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What’s the catch?”

“Wear something nice but comfortable,” I said. “And no flannel.”

She blinked. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

I turned and headed toward the clubhouse without another word, but the grin she tried to hide when she turned back to her drink told me she’d be ready.

I had a few hours to pull this off.

Back at the compound, I found Bear and Pledge leaning over maps and a half-eaten tray of gas station burritos.

“Need a favor,” I said.

Bear didn’t look up. “Please tell me it’s not another load of plywood.”

“I need you two to run into town. Take a few laps. Look for any unfamiliar faces. Strangers. Vehicles that don’t fit. I want eyes on everything from the gas station to the overlook.”

“It’s tourist season,” Bear said. “Hikers, campers, wannabe survivalists. Hell, my cousin’s up here right now trying to catch trout and get laid.”

“Still. Keep your eyes open. Something’s off.”

Pledge nodded. “You got it, boss.”

Bear finally looked up. “You doing something tonight?”

I paused. “Yeah. I’m taking Bella out.”

That got their attention.

“Like... on a date date?” Pledge asked.

“Like real napkins and a table,” I muttered.

Bear barked a laugh. “Damn, someone call the press. JD’s out here trying to have a fairy meadowland dinner with a school teacher.”

“I’m serious.”

“ That’s the problem,” Bear said, standing. “But alright, lover boy. You got backup. What do you need?”

“Battery generator. String lights. Folding table. Chairs. Lanterns. Something for the center.”

“Like a bouquet?” Pledge smirked.

“Like I won’t beat your ass in front of the whole crew.”

They laughed. But one by one, the clubhouse came alive with energy.

Wrench pulled an old oil lamp from the storage shelf and dusted it off.

Bullet tossed me a red-and-white checkered cloth like he’d been saving it for just this kind of love story.

Even Big Lou, who hadn’t shown emotion since he crashed his Harley into a dumpster during the Fourth of July parade three years back, offered up a camping rug to lay under the table.

And then?

Someone had the idea to light up the lake .

“You take the canoe,” Jigsaw said. “Load it with lanterns. Let the light dance on the water.”

“I’ll get floating candles,” Pledge added. “They’ll look like stars.”

For a bunch of outlaws with dirty boots and blood on our hands, we sure knew how to put together a romance.

Only problem?

I couldn’t cook worth a damn.

“I got you,” Pledge said, typing on his phone. “Italian. White tablecloth level. Ordered. I’ll pick it up and stash it in the warming box in my truck.”

By the time the sun started to dip below the trees, my truck was loaded.

String lights. Generator. Rug. Table. Chairs. Lanterns. Wine—hell, I didn’t even know if Bella drank , but I got a bottle just in case. The good stuff, too. Not the cheap gas station brand.

As I pulled away, I caught Bear watching from the porch, arms crossed and expression unreadable.

He gave me a slow nod.

Gran’s story had shifted something in all of us.

Even the hardest bastards in the room believed in one great love now.

And tonight?

I was gonna give Bella something to remember.

A first date under the stars.

By the time I reached the clearing near the lake, the sky had turned a soft gold, brushing the treetops with light like fire kissing the leaves. I killed the engine and sat for a second, just breathing.

It had to be perfect.

Not fancy. Not flashy. Just real .

The kind of night a woman like Bella deserved.

I got to work fast—setting up the generator first, running the lines through the trees.

The string lights flickered to life one by one like fireflies.

I strung them wide across the clearing, low enough to feel warm, high enough not to get caught in the breeze.

The rug went down next. Then the table. Chairs. The checkered cloth.

Pledge’s oil lamp flickered softly in the center like it belonged in some movie scene instead of a biker’s dinner date.

The canoe had already been placed down by the water earlier that day—floating lanterns and soft glimmers of light making the surface shimmer like something out of a fairytale. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t checked it three times already.

I popped open the warming box and checked the food.

Italian. Pasta. Garlic knots. Salad. Two plates. Real silverware. The works.

Even grabbed a cloth napkin to wipe her mouth like I was civilized or something.

Damn.

What was happening to me?

Everything was set.

And yet, I stood there for a long second, hands on my hips, chewing the inside of my cheek like I was waiting for a bomb to go off.

I wasn’t nervous about the setup.

I was nervous about her.

Bella .

Hell, I’d faced off with rival MCs, disarmed a cartel runner in broad daylight, patched brothers up after bullet wounds with my bare hands—and yet somehow, the idea of knocking on Gran’s door and picking up a girl in jeans and a sundress had me sweating through my shirt.

Because Bella wasn’t just another night.

She was the kind of woman you only got one shot with.

The kind of woman who made your future shift shape without even trying.

I looked down at myself—black jeans, clean shirt, boots polished, kutte left behind for once. I didn’t want her thinking tonight was about the club. This wasn’t MC business. This was me .

Logan Hayes.

A man trying to show a woman he gave a damn.

And then some.

I exhaled hard, grabbed the bouquet of wildflowers Bear had tucked in the backseat like some wiseass romantic, and got in the truck.

Time to pick her up.

The bouquet was a mess of color—lavender, Queen Anne’s lace, black-eyed Susans, and a few wild daisies that had survived the heatwave. Not wrapped in tissue or tied with a bow. Just rubber-banded together with a strip of leather from one of my old tool rolls.

It wasn’t much.

But it was early. And it was true.

Not grocery store roses or overpriced stems in a crystal vase. Just flowers I’d stopped the truck for earlier, pulled from the edge of a sun-washed ditch road, thorns in my fingers and all.

I wasn’t trying to impress her with money.

I was trying to show her heart.

Mine.

The kind that didn’t get handed over easily… but once it did, you’d never lose it again.

I took the mountain curves slow, the bouquet on the seat beside me like a peace offering and a prayer all wrapped into one.

By the time I pulled up to the cabin, it was dusky gold—the kind of late summer evening where the light feels warm on your skin and even the shadows lean soft. The porch light flickered on, Gran’s silhouette passing behind the front curtains like a blessing from the old world.

I turned off the ignition.

Sat there a second with both hands on the steering wheel, just breathing.

Damn.

I could patch a tire blindfolded, rebuild an engine in the dark, or take down a man twice my size with a single blow.

But standing on that porch with my heart and a bunch of wildflowers?

That felt like the bravest thing I’d done in a long time.

I climbed the steps.

Knocked once.

Then again.

The door creaked open slow, and there she was.

Bella.

Hair half up, soft dress brushing her knees, and bare feet on the hardwood like some kind of dream. Her lips parted, eyes taking me in—and then down at the flowers I held, rough hands suddenly feeling clumsy as hell.

“Hey,” I said, voice low, suddenly unsure.

She looked up at me, surprise and something warmer flickering behind those long lashes.

“You brought me flowers?” she said, almost like she couldn’t believe it.

I scratched the back of my neck. “Yeah. They're... wild. Like me.”

She laughed—a real one this time. Not sarcastic. Not guarded.

Something inside me uncoiled just hearing it.

“I wasn’t sure what kind you liked,” I said gruffly. “But they reminded me of you.”

Her smile softened. “Messy and stubborn?”

“Natural,” I said, stepping a little closer. “And worth stopping the truck for.”

Something shifted in her eyes then.

She reached out and took the bouquet, fingers brushing mine.

“Let me just grab my jacket,” she whispered.

And just like that, I exhaled.