And I’d just told him about things that were happening at work.

It had been two good weeks with Hop. Our first week together as in together we spent every night in his bed or my bed, making love and talking after having dinner together.

I discovered his broiled pork cops were the bomb.

His saying, “That body of yours, baby, does not go with the way you cook and eat and pleased as fuck it doesn’t. Take you any way you come but if you came with me havin’ to eat a lot of salad, gotta admit, that would suck,” was even better.

Obviously, when he had his kids last week, I didn’t spend the night. Instead, we had late night conversations which included phone sex and, on top of that, either Hop or I would call sometime during the day just to connect.

That said, Hop had told me he’d decided to introduce his kids “slow-like” to the fact that I was going to be in their life.

“We gotta have our time and you need to feel this is solid. Solid is also what I want communicated to them so gonna ease my kids into this the same way I’m easin’ you,” he’d said.

They were his kids so it was his call. I didn’t debate the solidness of “us” mostly because, even though it felt good and was going great, we’d had a rocky start. I wasn’t fooling myself that I didn’t have issues to work through and we hadn’t been together for very long, so even though it was his call, I agreed with that call.

More, I liked how he was protecting his kids against getting too deep into something that might harm them if it went bad.

So easing into it would do, for all of us.

Still, Molly had a dance recital last week and clearly Hop was not going to waste time easing everyone into things because he asked me to show. I liked his kids, I wanted to see Molly dance, I was feeling things solidify with Hop and I was doing this on a daily basis, so I agreed.

We went separately, met there, and after it was over, I told Molly that Hop mentioned it to me, and since I wanted to see her dance, I came. She was tickled pink I did, which was gratifying. During the show, I sat by Hop with our knees brushing, which was more gratifying. And while Molly was dancing, I turned my head to see Hop’s smiling, proud profile, which was even more gratifying.

What was not gratifying was the fact that Mitzi was there. Hop warned me she would be so I was somewhat prepared, but you can never be totally prepared for something like that.

But it was worse than just being in the same room for the first time with your man’s ex.

This was because I watched as, with an ease born of practice, they selected seats as far away from each other as possible, and they did this without even glancing at each other. Since Hop had the kids, Cody came with his dad, and although he went to say hi to his mom, he sat with Hop and me.

This felt unpleasant because, although it came naturally to Hop and Mitzi, I suspected it wasn’t all that fun for Cody. I also suspected both Hop and Mitzi knew it, didn’t like it, but had no intention of doing anything about it.

Further, I chanced a glance at Mitzi at a time she was looking our way, her mouth tight, her eyes on Cody. I didn’t have much of an opportunity to take in her bleached, teased out but still attractive biker babe hair or her hard face that managed to be very pretty, before her gaze shifted to me and I felt the glacial sting. I fought the chill, gave her a small, noncommittal smile and aimed my eyes back to the stage.

I didn’t talk to Hop about this because there was nothing to be said. It probably wouldn’t surprise him his ex gave me an icy look. That was what exes did and considering Mitzi’s reputation and what Hop said about her, it was not out of character so I didn’t need to get him riled up by sharing.

However, although nothing nasty happened, the night was underlined with an uncomfortable feeling, It made me sad to think that not only Mitzi and Hop had to perform this avoidance dance every time they were around each other, but the kids had to endure it too.

This, in turn, made me wonder about my father. I wondered if he’d partially made the decision to stay with Mom so Lis and I wouldn’t have to choose sides.

If this entered his mind, it didn’t excuse what he’d been doing. But it still made me think.

The kids went back to Mitzi after school on Monday and now it was again Hop and me, dinner, chatting, sometimes TV and then bed.

But while Hop rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher and I put away the food, tidied and wiped down the counters, I told him about my old agency making overtures to steal my big new account. I also shared a bit about how they’d repeatedly been trying to undercut me in an effort to drive me into a merger.

I wasn’t surprised at Hop’s firm, biker badass response. I hadn’t been spending time with Chaos and my best friend, who was married to the president of the Club, and not come to know how these men worked.

Therefore, I moved to the sink, threw the sponge in it, turned to my man and said, “Hop, honey, I told you because it’s a pain and I needed to vent. I didn’t tell you so you’d do something about it.”

Hop shoved a plate in the dishwasher, pushed the rack in and closed the door with his boot before turning to me.

“Lanie, baby, that might be so, but my woman isn’t dumb. You may not have been officially folded into the life but you been around the Club enough to know exactly what tellin’ me that shit is gonna lead me to do.”

“This stuff with my old company is halfhearted and eventually it’ll die down,” I explained.

“Don’t give a fuck if it’s halfhearted but I do know it’s gonna die down,” he declared.

Oh dear.

He wasn’t backing down. He was intending to intervene. Biker badass against ad agency.

This was not good.

“I meant naturally, Hop,” I protested, trying to cut him off at the pass. “Not them backing off because my man and his biker brethren pay them a threatening visit.”

“Chaos doesn’t make threats, babe.”

Gah!

“Hop!” I cried, quickly losing patience as was my wont. “Seriously. I do not want you to get involved. I didn’t tell you so you’d get involved. And, most importantly, if you do,” I leaned into him, “it’s going to tick me off. Like, bad.”

He grinned at me like I amused him and asked, “Like, bad?”

“Don’t make fun of me,” I snapped.

“Don’t be cute and I won’t make fun of you,” he returned, still grinning.

“I’m not being amusing, Hopper Kincaid, I’m being very serious,” I warned. “This is my career and I’ve worked hard to make a name in this business. I’ve worked hard to build my agency. It means something to me,” I shared. “I can’t have a bunch of badass bikers stomping around in their motorcycle boots and leather cuts giving me a reputation I do not need.”

The grin faded clean from his face and it got hard before he asked, “A reputation you don’t need?”

Uh-oh.

He took that the wrong way.

“You know that wasn’t what I meant,” I said.

“Then, babe, it’d be good you tell me what you did mean and do it real fuckin’ quick,” Hop shot back and I stared at him as an unpleasant burn hit my belly.

Then I said softly, “That isn’t cool.”

“Damn straight it isn’t,” he retorted and I shook my head.

“No. You don’t understand me. That isn’t cool, not even close to cool, Hop, that you’d think for one second that’s what I meant.”

“Again, lady, you need to tell me what you meant.”

“Not once,” I pulled in a calming breath before going on, “not once, Hopper, not since that very first moment when Brick walked into my house with Tyra, when she told me Elliott was making whacked decisions and then you showed later to put me on the back of your bike and take me to Ty-Ty’s, have I ever, ever,” I leaned in again, “done one stinking thing to indicate I was a biker bigot.”

“Yeah, until you just told me you’d get a reputation, I get involved in your life,” he returned, not letting it go.

“No, I didn’t say that. I said I’d get a reputation if you got involved in my business,” I amended sharply. “And it wouldn’t matter if you were a biker or a businessman, Hop. I’m a businesswoman and we’ve come a long way but it’s still a man’s world and any man sticking his nose into my business makes it look like I can’t see to my business. I’ve worked too damned hard to prove I’m good at what I do, to demand credit for my work when some ass was taking it from me, to prove I can manage accounts, staff, an entire agency, to compete for business and best the competition, to have another man, no matter he’s my man, I care about him and he thinks he’s looking out for me, make me look like I’m not strong enough to do it.”

I was glaring at him and breathing heavy when I was done with my speech so it took a few moments for me to see the hard had gone out of his face and his eyes had warmed.

He understood me.

I didn’t care.

What he said was bad and I was still ticked.

He made a move to take a step toward me but since I was still ticked, I stepped back. He stopped and his eyes locked on mine.

“Not lost on me the way you live,” he said low, his hand swinging out to indicate my house. “Your office. Your clothes. The sweet ride you drive. Your parents. That fuckin’ condo that was three times the size of the one I gave my kids.”

“And?” I prompted acidly.

“Eventually we were gonna have this conversation,” he explained, but it didn’t explain a thing.