pouring out of a boom box. Instead, some sort of soothing, meditative music played sedately in the background and the walls were painted a nice, surprisingly proper shade of golden yellow with beautiful Asian artwork tastefully displayed. And was that incense? It was unlike any other tattoo place she’d ever been . . . wait, scratch that. Who was she kidding? She’d never been in any tattoo places.
A small cough shifted her attention to her left. The woman behind the front counter studied her, making no attempt to hide her curiosity.
“Hello.” Kyle finally spoke, having had enough of being examined like a specimen.
The woman rose and leaned on the countertop, exposing heavily tattooed arms, milky white cleavage, and confidence in spades. “You’ve got the most beautiful nose for piercing. Like Angelina Jolie. Perfect.”
Unconsciously, Kyle reached up and touched her nose. “Uh, thank you . . .?”
The woman sat back down, picked up a magazine, and began flipping through the pages. Kyle was amazed. She’d never had such a unique compliment. Especially from someone as stunning as the Ms. Kat Von D look-alike over there. She touched her nose again. Angelina Jolie? Huh.
She turned back to the owner, still bent over tattooing his customer. Soon, she was just as engrossed in his work as he was. The man’s back was his canvas as a dragon was beginning to breathe fire in vivid oranges and fiery reds with scales that seemed to slither when he moved.
The door next to her crashed opened, breaking her concentration. She jumped in her seat and turned to look death in the eye as three-hundred-plus pounds of hell-bent-for-leather biker hitman strolled in like he owned the joint. A Harley Davidson bandana covered his bowling-ball-sized head and a thick metal chain hung from his front pocket to the back of his black leather pants. His thick black boots made heavy clomp, clomp, clomping sounds as he shrugged out of his massive leather jacket and slung it behind the counter near Ms. Sexy-I-Wanna-Pierce-Your-Angelina-Jolie-Nose.
“Hey, Kierstan,” the big biker guy said, his voice strangely friendly as he smiled at Kyle.
The girl glanced up from her magazine. “You’ve been gone long enough, Michael. Where’s the pizza?”
Michael? Sweet Baby Jesus in His manger! Kyle felt the pulse behind her right eye and wished the decadent crimson velvet chair would swallow her whole as her heart wanted to beat a frantic rhythm straight out of her ribcage.
Jed glanced up from his dragon masterpiece and set his buzzing needle aside. “Yeah, Mike. Pizza?”
The big guy actually flushed. “Aw, guys. I’m sorry. I forgot. I’ll run next door and grab it.”
“You better.” Kierstan stood and sauntered over to inspect Jed’s work. Even Kyle felt the heat from his irritated glare when she got too close.
Then, just before Michael walked out, Jed looked over in Kyle’s direction, seeming to remember that she was still there. Damn. She was hoping she’d disappeared. His piercing blue eyes pinned her to her seat and she felt like a mosquito forever frozen in prehistoric amber.
“Oh, Mike?” he called.
Michael stopped, his thick chain thumping against his leg, rattling Kyle’s ears. “Yeah?”
“Don’t forget the extra cheese.” He turned away, breaking the contact. He inclined his head in Kyle’s general vicinity. “And your accountant’s here.”
Chapter 2
“What the hell do you need an accountant for anyway?” Jed asked after Ms. Goody Two Shoes left the studio.
Michael looked up at him, his brows furrowed. “What? You don’t have someone do your books for you?”
“Well, yeah . . . , but—”
“But, what? It’s gettin’ on tax time and I need her. Besides, what’s wrong with Miz O’Neill? She seems like a fine CPA. Smart. Attractive.” He smiled.
“Smart, maybe. A little uptight, don’t you think?” Seriously, the girl looked fresh from the convent.
Michael didn’t look at him as he finished
A small cough shifted her attention to her left. The woman behind the front counter studied her, making no attempt to hide her curiosity.
“Hello.” Kyle finally spoke, having had enough of being examined like a specimen.
The woman rose and leaned on the countertop, exposing heavily tattooed arms, milky white cleavage, and confidence in spades. “You’ve got the most beautiful nose for piercing. Like Angelina Jolie. Perfect.”
Unconsciously, Kyle reached up and touched her nose. “Uh, thank you . . .?”
The woman sat back down, picked up a magazine, and began flipping through the pages. Kyle was amazed. She’d never had such a unique compliment. Especially from someone as stunning as the Ms. Kat Von D look-alike over there. She touched her nose again. Angelina Jolie? Huh.
She turned back to the owner, still bent over tattooing his customer. Soon, she was just as engrossed in his work as he was. The man’s back was his canvas as a dragon was beginning to breathe fire in vivid oranges and fiery reds with scales that seemed to slither when he moved.
The door next to her crashed opened, breaking her concentration. She jumped in her seat and turned to look death in the eye as three-hundred-plus pounds of hell-bent-for-leather biker hitman strolled in like he owned the joint. A Harley Davidson bandana covered his bowling-ball-sized head and a thick metal chain hung from his front pocket to the back of his black leather pants. His thick black boots made heavy clomp, clomp, clomping sounds as he shrugged out of his massive leather jacket and slung it behind the counter near Ms. Sexy-I-Wanna-Pierce-Your-Angelina-Jolie-Nose.
“Hey, Kierstan,” the big biker guy said, his voice strangely friendly as he smiled at Kyle.
The girl glanced up from her magazine. “You’ve been gone long enough, Michael. Where’s the pizza?”
Michael? Sweet Baby Jesus in His manger! Kyle felt the pulse behind her right eye and wished the decadent crimson velvet chair would swallow her whole as her heart wanted to beat a frantic rhythm straight out of her ribcage.
Jed glanced up from his dragon masterpiece and set his buzzing needle aside. “Yeah, Mike. Pizza?”
The big guy actually flushed. “Aw, guys. I’m sorry. I forgot. I’ll run next door and grab it.”
“You better.” Kierstan stood and sauntered over to inspect Jed’s work. Even Kyle felt the heat from his irritated glare when she got too close.
Then, just before Michael walked out, Jed looked over in Kyle’s direction, seeming to remember that she was still there. Damn. She was hoping she’d disappeared. His piercing blue eyes pinned her to her seat and she felt like a mosquito forever frozen in prehistoric amber.
“Oh, Mike?” he called.
Michael stopped, his thick chain thumping against his leg, rattling Kyle’s ears. “Yeah?”
“Don’t forget the extra cheese.” He turned away, breaking the contact. He inclined his head in Kyle’s general vicinity. “And your accountant’s here.”
Chapter 2
“What the hell do you need an accountant for anyway?” Jed asked after Ms. Goody Two Shoes left the studio.
Michael looked up at him, his brows furrowed. “What? You don’t have someone do your books for you?”
“Well, yeah . . . , but—”
“But, what? It’s gettin’ on tax time and I need her. Besides, what’s wrong with Miz O’Neill? She seems like a fine CPA. Smart. Attractive.” He smiled.
“Smart, maybe. A little uptight, don’t you think?” Seriously, the girl looked fresh from the convent.
Michael didn’t look at him as he finished
Similar Books
Scary Out There
Jonathan Maberry
Top 8
Katie Finn
The Robber Bride
Jerrica Knight-Catania
The Nigger Factory
Gil Scott Heron
The Best Man to Trust
Kerry Connor
Rule
Alaska Angelini
Scars and Songs
Christine Zolendz, Frankie Sutton, Okaycreations
Going to the Chapel
Janet Tronstad
Not a Fairytale
Shaida Kazie Ali