Page 69 of War

“I can’t believe you made me come to a book signing,” he murmurs, standing there and holding my massive pile of books in his hands.

“I didn’t make you come anywhere. You wouldn’t let me leave the house alone,” I remind him.

Today is the Zada Ryan book signing, and I couldn’t be more excited. No one was ruining this for me. I don’t care what biker shit is going on.

The line is long, but War patiently stands with me. I don’t miss the looks he gets from other women. A lot of them check him out, and I can’t blame them. He’s wearing his usual black T-shirt, dark jeans, and biker boots. I told him to leave the cut at home unless he wanted women to take photos with him. He looks like he came off the cover of a sexy biker romance novel.

Zada isn’t here alone—she’s brought her husband along with her and their two teenage sons. Her husband has been a cover model for her, so his shoulder-length blond hair, bright blue eyes, and full lips are familiar. He’s covered in ink, and the way he looks at his wife immediately tells me where she gets her book inspiration from.

Placing my books on the table for her to sign, I’m momentarily speechless.

“War,” Zada’s husband says, lifting his chin.

“Tracker,” War greets, grinning. “Last place I ever thought I’d run into you.”

Zada pushes her glasses up on her face, her thick, dark hair flowing around her shoulders. “Small world.” She smiles at me, opening the first book. “I hope you didn’t have to wait too long.”

“I’d wait all day for you,” I blurt out, and War and Tracker both share an amused glance.

“This is my woman, Ora,” War introduces, and I’ve never loved him more than in this moment. Tracker introduces us to his sons, Brax and Daire, who both have their mom’s dark hair but his blue eyes. They look to be in their late teens and are almost as tall as their dad.

Daire winks at me, and his mom shoots him a scowl. “Ignore them, please. They came here as my assistants, but all they’ve been doing is flirting with the women.”

“Can you blame us?” Brax smirks, flexing his muscles. “Women love bikers.”

“He’s not wrong,” War adds, placing his hand on my lower back. “But this one ismine.”

“She’s beautiful,” Daire adds, licking his bottom lip. “I want an old lady just like you, Ora.”

“Stop hitting on her,” Tracker mutters, slapping the back of his son’s head. “Unless you can take on a man like War and a whole MC behind him, you don’t touch an old lady. And the Wind Dragons aren’t going to fight the Serpents of Chaos because you aren’t acting right.”

Daire winces and clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

War smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Listen to your dad. There’snothingwe wouldn’t do for our women.”

I roll my eyes, and I notice Zada doing the same. They are only teenagers, but I sense this is some biker manly life lesson thing going on, so I sidestep them and focus on my favorite author. “I love that you’re also writing fantasy now. Rave is so damn sexy.”

She flashes me a grin. “I’m glad you think so. I like to mix things up. I’m writing a hockey romance right now, actually.”

“I can’t wait to read it.” I beam.

We continue to chat while she signs my books, then we take a photo together, and then she gives me a big hug. “It was so nice to meet you.”

“You too.” She beams with genuine warmth in her dark eyes, then she lowers her voice. “And that man of yours is mighty fine. My next hero might have dark hair and eyes like dark chocolate.”

“I’ll be waiting for it.” I grin.

I can’t stop the wide smile on my face for the rest of the day. “Did you know your favorite romance author was also an old lady?”

“I had no idea.”

But it makes sense. She writes the hottest, bad-boy heroes around.

And now we know where she gets her inspiration.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

WAR

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