Inked by an Angel Read Free Page A

putting away his ink and cleaning up his workstation. “Maybe. But, Jed, she’s an accountant. She does numbers. What would you expect?” He looked over with a mischievous wink. “You never know what’s underneath that uptight façade. Probably an undercover freak. Tats. Pierced out the wazoo. Whips. Chains. She’d probably rock your little world.”
    Jed laughed. “Yeah, right. My lily white ass.”
    “Yeah, but it’s fun to think about.” He locked up his cabinet. “She’s a very sweet lady, though. Be nice to her.”
    “I’m always nice.”
    “ My lily white ass.”
    Jed’s footsteps echoed in the silent studio. As he locked up and turned down the lights, his thoughts turned back to his conversation with Michael. He hated to admit he was curious about the bookish Ms. O’Neill. It wasn’t often he ran across someone like her. Outside of his mother’s country club anyway, and he wasn’t a regular at that particular establishment. He’d learned early on that his mother was about the only person there capable of seeing beyond his appearance and he only went occasionally to please her. Just thinking about their dress code made him want to choke.
    He stepped outside and took a deep breath of the crisp night air scented with the tang of Italian spices from next door. Gabriella, Papa Turoni’s daughter, and Jed’s future bride-to-be if Papa had his way, waved as she hauled out a sack of trash. Jed waved back. She was nice. She could cook. But she was built like a linebacker and wasn’t interested in her daddy’s matchmaking attempts because she batted for the home team. She just hadn’t told poor Papa yet. Unfortunately, everyone else in town knew.
    Jed’s stomach grumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t had anything to eat except a slice of the pizza Mike brought in earlier. He palmed his keys with indecision, until Gabby opened the door to go back inside and the spicy fragrance hit his nose again.
    It was late. Maybe Papa was gone. He sighed and started walking. He pushed open the door and his mouth immediately began to water.
    The small, wiry old man behind the counter perked up the minute he saw him. “Gentry! Is good to see you!” He flicked a not-so-subtle glance toward Gabriella who was now wiping down the counter behind him. “What can we do for you? The pasta is very good tonight.”
    Jed studied the guy and the romantic hope shining in the chocolate brown eyes behind the thick lenses of his ancient glasses. Poor dude. He smiled, noticing that Gabriella had skirted away to the stock room. Her dad did a piss poor job of containing his irritation.
    “That girl. She’s never going to get married if she keeps hiding herself away.” He leaned in, his Italian accent thickening. “I know she’s no supermodel, my Gabby, but she’s a good Catholic girl with a kind heart. She’d make a good wife to a nice boy.”
    Like you. He didn’t have to say it. Funny thing was, Jed had no idea why Papa Turnoni thought he was such a catch. Most daddies would tell their daughters to steer clear of the likes of him. Hell, he’d probably tell her the same thing. He was damaged goods with a rebellious spirit. His body was a testament to that. He lived and breathed it every day and he’d embraced that part of himself the first day a tattoo needle hit his arm.
    Rather than give Papa false hope, he nodded benignly and made a show of studying the menu. “She is a nice girl.” He checked his watch. “So, listen, I’ve had a late night. Can I get a couple Stromboli to go?”
    Disappointment clouded Papa’s eyes, but he nodded. “Sure, sure. Coming right up.”
    Finally, Jed was able to make his escape with his meatball Stromboli and duck out without having to propose to Gabby. As he crossed the parking lot, the little light-up angel sign next to his shop caught his eye and he frowned. A friggin’ day care. Were they out of their mind putting that there? He’d tried to talk them out of it, but the owners