Chibs was immediately suspicious when he saw Gemma sitting on the picnic table as he came to a stop outside the clubhouse. She sat on the table itself, resting her elegant long legs that ended in heeled boots on the bench. "Didn't expect to see you out here alone," he grunted at her as she took a long drag on her cigarette.
"Juice and Tig started a drinking contest, and the rest of the boys joined in. It's pretty loud and stupid in there right now. Even the crow eaters have made themselves scarce." She shrugged. He lit a cigarette up and plopped down beside her. "I might have wanted a minute to talk to my favorite Scotsman." Chibs raised an eyebrow at her. Gemma never just chatted. She examined Chibs' face for a moment in the dim light. "So the little lassie is safely home?" she asked with an amused smirk.
"Aye," he verified, a small smile curling up the edge of his lips despite his attempts to hide it.
"Well, you weren't gone long enough for even a quick first fuck, so I'm going to guess that just being in her presence makes you smile that way."
"Fuck, Gemma-" Chibs choked on his smoke and hoped the dim light would obscure the heat in his cheeks.
She held up her hand to shut his mouth. "You're not a dumb kid like my son can be, Chibs. I don't have to tell you that if she can't handle the club, it won't work." She took another drag on her cigarette, pausing for dramatic effect. "And I don't have to tell you that if she hurts you, I will eat her alive."
Chibs snorted. "Understatement of the fucking year." He watched the cherry of his cigarette burn.
"Filip," Chibs looked up at Gemma when she used his real name. "It would be good to see you happy," she said sincerely, "and you were happy when you pulled into the parking lot. When I talked to that girl in the office, I didn't immediately want to strangle her."
There was another snort from Chibs. "Careful there, Gem. You almost said you liked her."
"I wouldn't say that. Someone might think I'm getting soft." She took another drag off of her cigarette. "You can't hide things from me, Chibs. I know you like her. I think she has a thing for you, too."
"Girls like that don't have 'things' for old bikers," he retorted, sucking in the smoke. "She's young, I'm a 'bad boy.' She'll get over it. She's fine-looking, but the best idea would be for me to fucking forget the whole bloody thing."
Gemma rolled her eyes. "Men," she muttered under her breath. It was time to get home, where she only had one to deal with, rather than a whole clubhouse full. "Good night, honey," she said as she slid to the ground.
"'Night, Gemma." Chibs gave her a kiss on the cheek. He watched her stroll to her Escalade, his face passive but his mind whirring. Gemma wasn't a matchmaker, unless it fit into some grand scheme of hers. He would lay down his life for that woman, but he wasn't sure he would trust her with his heart. He finished another cigarette, listening to the muffled sounds of partying going on inside and contemplating the strange twists and turns of the day. His free hand absentmindedly touched his cheek where Aoife's lips had pressed an hour before and called him by his Christian name. He shook his head the way he had outside of her apartment, but his brain churned, and Chibs knew he wouldn't get any peace tonight if he just tried to go to bed. If he couldn't clear his head, then he knew how to make it too cloudy to care – there was a bottle of Irish whiskey behind the bar with his name on it.