Page 5 of Property of Fox

“Yeah,” I murmur, shaking my head, trying to connect the dots. “You mean the one for that...what was it called? ‘Riding Wild’?”

“Bingo!” she beams, “Well, I might have told my publisher a bit of a little white lie that it was somewhat based on a true story.”

“And that’s my problem, how?”

“You didn’t read it, did you?”

“Do I look like a guy who reads for fun, Eden?”

“Valid point, but the thing is…,” she trails off still playing with a piece of her rainbow hair. “My publisher wants me to bring my ‘biker boyfriend’ to the Motorcycles, Mobsters, and Mayhem signing to create buzz about my book tour later this summer.”

I cock an eyebrow as she beams at me. “Want to go to Texas in March?”

Fuck. She’s talking about me.

“You can’t mean me.”

“Who else would I trust enough to ask?”

“Anyone, but me. Jesus, Eden. I am not some rent a biker service. Absolutely fucking not.”

“You didn’t even let me try to convince you. My publisher is willing to make it worth it. All expenses paid for, travel, hotel, and food.”

“In exchange for posing as your fake boyfriend, and from what I am seeing, fake baby daddy. No thanks.”

“C’mon, Fox! What’s life without a little fun?” she pleads. “You’re practically getting a free vacation out of it.”

“And what do I get in return? An embarrassing weekend spent pretending to be Mr. Anderson? That’s a hard pass.”

She steps closer, invading my personal space. “You know you’d love it. Imagine all those fans swooning over you because you’re‘the guy’in the book. You can even bring Bruce along! He’d be the star of the show.”

Bruce, now settled on the floor chewing on his squeaky toy, looks up at me expectantly as if he knows this debate is somehow about him too. I groan internally.

“It’s not like you’re tied down to anyone, right?”

I hadn’t talked to Eden in over a year. The only way Eden would know my dating status is if Hallie or Az had told her. Fucking traitors.

“Do you know how many people would kill for a behind-the-scenes glimpse into the world of bikers?” Eden declares.

“Allowing outsider into our lifestyle is kind of the point, Eden. The last thing I or my club needs is our logo plastered all over social media.” Considering that just a few days earlier I had given a guy a concrete nap, this isn’t a good idea no matter how she wants to spin it.

“I can fix that,” she answers confidently.

“How would you do that exactly?”

“First off, no real names. You can use the one I gave your character, Ares. Obviously, no colors for the Bastard Boilers. I had a cut made with my fictional club’s logo and rockers on it. My PR team has agreed that the readers can take photos with me but that you are off limits. Your identity will be protected. After MMM, you’ll slip back into obscurity, and I’ll announce our break-up at the right time.”

“Ares?” I quirk an eyebrow.

“Just think about it. A fun weekend, good food, and countless stories to tell.”

“Yeah, but how many of those stories end with me explaining to Az why I was playing pretend with you instead of doing something more...productive?”

“Az may have already given me his blessing to steal you away. Plus… Hallie is also signing there, and you know Az won’t let her out of his sight.”

“So, you asked my club president about this fucking charade before asking me?”

“To be fair, I have been trying to call you.”

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