Page 55 of The Good Girl

“Why not?” I shrug, standing up when I see Sarah place a couple of bags on the counter. I walk over and pay, then turn to look at Conan. “Coming?”

He nods, leaving a couple of bills on the table, and walks over. He takes the bags from me despite my protests. “I have cancer, woman. I’m not dying.” He scowls, making me laugh.

“I love a man with a sense of humor.” I fake swooning.

“Everyone’s a comedian these days,” he mutters. “Where the fuck’s the prospect who’s supposed to be watching you?”

“Probably still at The Lookout. He said he needed to talk to the owner but ended up drooling all over the bartender. I got tired of waiting. I told him I needed the bathroom and slipped out the back.”

He grumbles something, but I miss it as we make our way outside. We head toward the alley, and I see the homeless man still in the same spot. The guy lifts his head from his knees as we approach, watching us warily.

He’s wearing one of those face masks we all wore during COVID, covering the bottom of his face, but the part I can see is filthy. If I didn’t think Havoc would kill me, I’d ask if he wanted a shower and invite him back to the clubhouse.

“Hi. We got you some food.”

The guy stares at me in a way that makes me nervous, and I’m glad Conan came with me. I take the bag from the giant behind me and hand it to him.

“Oh, shoot. I forgot the hot chocolate. I’ll be right back.”

I turn to leave, almost colliding with Sarah, who has the hot chocolate in her hand.

“Oh, you’re a gem, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I caught up with you.” Her eyes fall to the homeless guy, and she offers him a smile before heading back to the diner.

I set the cup down next to the guy’s leg and stand back up. He doesn’t say anything. He tracks my every move, though, his eyes scanning my body and face like he’s memorizing every detail.

“Enjoy,” I murmur, stepping away from him.

I turn to Conan, who leads me away with his large hand on the small of my back.

“Okay, so you may have been right. The guy creeped me out. It doesn’t mean I shouldn’t help though. But thank you for coming with me, big guy.”

He chuckles. “Anytime, Nevaeh. Now, let’s go find your wayward prospect.”

He walks me to the bar, and when we reach the door, he opens it and motions for me to go in first. To my surprise, when I look around, Hoops is still standing in the exact same spot. The girl—and I say that because she looks barely old enough to sell alcohol—laughs at something Hoops says when she sees me approaching.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

“Just a prospect to go, please.”

Hoops turns at the sound of my voice, looking confused. He grimaces when he spots Conan behind me and curses when he notices bags of food in his hands.

“Lose something, prospect?” Conan’s deep voice rumbles.

“Shit. I thought you were in the bathroom. Why didn’t you say something?” Hoops asks me, looking more defeated than mad.

“You were occupied.”

“I wasn’t occupied.”

“You didn’t know I was gone until I came back.”

He rubs his hand over his face and stands. The bartender’s face falls when he leaves without even saying goodbye. I give her an apologetic wave and hurry outside after Conan and Hoops, who are now arguing but shut up when I join them.

“Look, it’s not a big deal. Let’s just get the food back to the clubhouse.”

“It is a?—”

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