Page 22 of Knot What I Expected

Bad idea.

Because Havoc walks in front of me.

And the man has an ass.

Good Lord.

Apparently fighting forest fires does wonderful things for the male posterior.

I jerk my gaze upward.

Behave, Gabriella.

I know better than this. That Wolf is not for me.

But still.

A girl can look and admire, can’t she? That’s all it is because I have no illusions about myself.

Men who look like Havoc Cross don’t look twice at women like me.

I mean, I know what I look like. But in case I forgot, I glance down at myself with a sigh.

Black yoga pants hugging hips wider than I prefer.

The Joint uniform t-shirt stretched across breasts that have never gotten the memo that gravity is the enemy.

Soft stomach.

Thick thighs.

Curves everywhere.

I’m not ugly. And I don’t need anyone’s pity. I am more than okay with my appearance.

So, no. It’s not that.

But Havoc?

Havoc looks like he belongs on the cover of some filthy Viking romance where the hero carries an axe and kidnaps the heroine before ravishing her against a—Jesus Christ, Gabriella.

I need to get laid.

Actually, no.

I do not need to get laid.

That’s how I got Matteo.

Best thing that ever happened to me?

Absolutely.

His father?

Not so much.

I set the menus down, but it’s just a formality. I know their orders by heart.