Page 47 of Chasing Simone

“Don’t worry, Pop,” Punk hollers from the driver’s window, “I’ll keep her safe.”

Jo nudges me in the ribs. “See? He’s nice.”

It’s not like I haven’t seen moments of Punk’s kindness. He’s capable. But he always flips it on its head…

“And if not, I’m sure her shrill voice will be enough to chase the douchebag away,” Punk adds.

…like that.

My nostrils flare. “My voice isnotshrill!”

Punk cringes against his seat. “Case in point.”

Ugh.“You’re such a moron, you moron.”

“How original,” he taunts. “Perhaps you can work on your comebacks on the ride to California. You suck at them.”

A growl rumbles in my chest. I swear, if this is how our entire time together is going to be, one of us will not be making it out of the SUV alive. My bet is on Punk not living past this afternoon.

Atlas finishes giving his orders to Chase before the two of them join our group. My brother-in-law scowls at Punk—a warning to behave. Atlas pulls me into a hug, tight and secure. “You call me if things become too much. No one will blame you if you want to pull out of the assignment at any point.”

I squeeze him back. “Thank you. But I’m going to be okay.”

“I’m not worried so much for you as I am for your ex. Seeing you running this show is going to be a junk punch for the bastard. Make it hurt.”

I laugh, pulling away from his embrace. “I’ll be fine. Take good care of my little sister and nephews while I’m gone.”

“Always.”

The team says goodbye to the rest of the crew, giving hugs and backslaps. Candy can’t help looking between me and Chase before giving me a wink. The woman is gung-ho about me being claimed by Chase.

As I pull open the door to climb into the SUV, a hand stops me. “What are you doing, baby? You don’t ride in there. Your place is with me, at my back, on my hog.”

“Chase, I’m not riding on your bike.”

He glowers, the lines between his eyes deepening in the furrows. “Why the fuck not?”

I wave at myself in my billowy dress. “Do I look like I’m dressed to ride on a bike?”

“Go throw on some jeans real quick. We’ll wait.”

“I don’t own jeans.”

Chase balks. “How the hell do you not own jeans? Everyone owns jeans. It’s a clothing staple.”

“Not for me. I haven’t needed to wear them while working as an accountant around the clock.”

“News flash, Simone. You work for an MC now, not a snobby finance firm. You can leave the business attire behind.”

I scoff, folding my arms over my chest. “I like my clothes, thank you.”

Chase leans in closer, his smile wicked. “I like your sexy clothes, too—on you and off.”

Jesus!To hell with worrying about pants. If he makes another dirty comment, I may need to change my underwear.

“Back to the point. Jeans never fit me right. They’re either too tight and show off too much or cut too low where my underwear is hanging out the back like some flipping whale tail.”

Chase releases a low, throaty groan of pleasure. “Sounds perfect to me.”

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