Page 112 of The Good Girl

“Do I look like I’ve been crying?”

“Yes. If anyone asks, we talked about you moving out, and we both got teary.”

“That will work.”

“Would being pregnant maybe change your plans?”

She shakes her head. “No. I don’t want my kids to know who I am until they are old enough to understand the choices I made and why. By then, hopefully, it will all be ancient history.”

I wish I knew the right thing to say here, but I’m at a loss, so I say nothing. I walk beside her as we head back to the saloon, each of us lost in thought. She leaves me to head the back way up to her room.

I look around and wonder how this is all going to play out. There has been something brewing below the surface between Legs and Midas for ages. Anyone with eyes can see it. Whatever is going on between them hasn’t changed Legs’ status. He hasn’tmade her his old lady, therefore, she still has to play her bunny role. I think that’s why she has been so adamant about leaving. She’s in love with a man who can’t see that being a bunny is what she does, not who she is. And now, he might have lost the best thing that could have happened to him. After all, I don’t need to know who the father is to know who it isn’t. Midas can’t have kids. Something tells me finding out she is pregnant is going to make him lose his mind.

“There you are. You ready to go?”

I shake out of my thoughts as Havoc wraps his arms around me, and nod against his chest.

“Alright. Dice is driving the truck up with your books and shit. He’ll meet us at the hotel. There anything else you need to grab?”

“Just my jacket.”

“Then let’s get this show on the road.”

“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I’m the president of an MC, cupcake. I think I can handle a book signing.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Havoc

“Jesus Christ,” I curse as I spin.

Nevaeh laughs her ass off beside me as a woman in her eighties gives me a wink.

“She just pinched my ass.”

“Us book girls are a bunch of thirsty bitches. Plus, it’s a great ass.”

“You just swore. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.” I sit down, mostly so my ass is safe from snatch-and-grab grannies, and look around the room.

This is the first time all day that there hasn’t been a line of people waiting for Nevaeh’s autograph. I knew she was an author, but I don’t think I truly understood what that meant in terms of fandom until I came here and watched grown adults lose their minds over seeing her. I’ve been fighting off the urge to screammineall day. I almost got into a fight with a guy who ripped off his T-shirt and asked her to sign his chest so he could get it tattooed.

“I did try to warn you. Most authors I know are pretty introverted. But this, this is our Mecca, and these are our people.Romance readers are a community like nothing you’ve seen before. I’ve never met most of these people, yet they’re all my friends. Social media has its benefits. In this case, it’s building friendships with people where the oceans between us mean nothing.”

“And this is small?”

“Compared to some venues, yes.”

I look at her and watch her smile. She looks happy, but it’s more than that. She looks relaxed in her own skin. Here, none of her history matters. Nobody cares about her sister or her dad. All they care about are the stories and characters she creates.

“Hello, Nevaeh.”

We both turn at the sound of her name and see a tall, thin man wearing a three-piece suit and a fedora. He’s wearing dark sunglasses and has a thick beard and mustache, which would make it hard to distinguish his age if it weren’t for the paper-thin skin of his hands dotted with liver spots.

“Hello. Do you want me to sign that for you?” Nevaeh reaches for the book he’s holding, but when she grabs it, he holds onto it for a little longer than necessary.

She brushes it off, clearly used to fans of all ages being a little odd, but I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it.

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