Page 103 of The Good Girl

I laugh. “It’s not that. It’s just out of character. It’s akin to imagining Hannibal at a knitting club.”

He chuckles at that.

Unlucky for him, though, my thoughts are taking root. I cross my arms over my chest. “What did you do, caveman?”

He pulls his phone out and opens the app before handing it over to me. “Nothing bad. I made the mistake of tagging your personal account instead of Celeste’s, but I’ve fixed that now G pointed out my mistake. I didn’t mean to cause issues. I’m just proud of you, that’s all. What’s wrong with that?”

I soften before leaning forward and giving him a kiss. “Nothing at all. It feels really good, actually. Unfortunately for you, I’m getting better at reading between the lines. Something tells me you are proud of me, but that’s not all there is to it.”

I scroll through his phone, laughing and sighing at the pictures of us together. Pulling out my own phone, I look through my social media. I’ve been avoiding it for weeks. I can only imagine the number of tags and messages I’ve missed.

My eyes widen as I see just how popular Havoc is with my readers. I put both phones down on the table. “You’re right. Theylove you. I’m kind of worried now that you might need security yourself. You’ve caused quite a stir. Perhaps I should make you one of my cover models.”

“You write romance books. Not sure many readers would be interested in a biker like me.”

I blink and grin at his naivety. “Oh, you poor misguided fool.”

He glances at me in confusion. I smile sweetly and decide to let him find out the hard way. I’ll have to see if I can bribe whoever he brings with us to take photos and capture the moment he realizes how much readers like men just like him.

His cell phone rings before he can ask me what I’m thinking, making him groan. “Can’t a man spend some fucking time with his old lady without every man and his dog trying to interrupt him?” he mutters to himself.

“Yeah?” he answers. He frowns, his eyes widening a fraction before he responds. “I’ll be right there.”

He disconnects the call and turns to me. “There is someone at the gate that wants to talk to you.”

Now it’s my turn to groan. “My father?”

“No. My ex.”

The shock of that statement must be evident on my face.

“Stay here, and I’ll go deal with her.”

“Not a chance in hell,” I tell him, standing up and brushing the crumbs from my lap.

I smooth down my skirt and straighten up my cardigan. I’m not vain, or at least no more than most people, but going up against Lola makes my insecurities flare. She might be many things, but ugly is not one of them.

Still, Havoc is mine, and if she thinks she can come waltzing in here and make some kind of play for him, she has another thing coming.

“Maybe we should build a moat, add some crocodiles and a drawbridge or something,” I mumble, making Havoc laugh.

“How can I be pissed off and yet still laugh?”

“Mental health issues?”

He grins and kisses me hard, leaving me unstable on my feet.

“Come on. Let’s get this over with.” He takes my hand and walks me down to the gate for another confrontation.

I notice a few others hovering around, eager to see what’s happening without trying to appear too eager. I roll my eyes. I swear bikers are worse than a bunch of school girls.

When we walk through the warehouse holding hands, it shows solidarity and ownership. Lola might have had Havoc first, but she threw him away. I won’t make the same mistake because I know exactly what kind of treasure he is.

When we walk through, we find the gates already open. Dice is standing in front of Lola, so we can’t see her properly until Havoc calls Dice’s name. Dice turns at the sound of Havoc’s voice before stepping away.

We get our first good look at her. She seems smaller than I remember, and I don’t mean height-wise. I’m tiny, hence the stupid nicknames, but my attitude is far bigger than I am. Lola might be taller than me by a good half a foot, but she’s giving off the air of someone trying to make themselves look small.

She is wearing a Yankees ball cap with a pair of oversized sunglasses. Dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and a sweatshirt two sizes too big for her and hiding her bump, she looks more like a teenager than an old lady and far more vulnerable. I don’t like it one bit. I can’t tell if it’s genuine or a ploy to bring out Havoc’s protective instincts.

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