Inked by an Angel Read Free Page B

were insistent it was the best spot available. Whatever.
    Not affording it another thought, Jed unlocked his baby, a fully restored ‘67 Shelby Mustang, settled into the custom leather seat and let the engine purr her sweet magic. He turned down the AC, popped in his Foo Fighters CD, and cranked up the volume. He’d just backed up and entered traffic when his cell phone rang.
    “Yeah.”
    “Hey, man, what’s up?” Noble’s deep and stoic voice greeted him.
    “Just leaving the shop.”
    “Wanna stop by for a couple beers? Maybe meet my new accountant?”
    “That a joke, Tonto?”
    There was no smile in the big man’s voice. “Why don’t you come over and find out, my pasty white brother.”
    “Fuck you.”
    “See ya in a few.” Noble laughed and hung up.
    Jed stopped to pick up a six pack and a box of Twinkies, the dessert of champions, and headed over to Noble’s house, having decided he would be charitable and share his Stromboli sandwiches. He pulled in behind Noble’s big black truck, parked, then made his way up to the door and knocked. He tucked the beer beneath his arm and gave the door a swift kick to hurry Noble along as he glanced to his right at the vacant house next door. It had been for sale for several months and the yard was now overgrown to a small jungle.
    Noble swung open the door and grabbed the beer with a smirk. “Not that fancy foreign shit again?”
    “Whatever. I buy it. You drink it, asshole.”
    Jed stepped inside and shut the door. “So, where’s your accountant? Setting up your sex swing in the bedroom?”
    Noble shot him a confused frown from the kitchen as he shoved the beer in the fridge after grabbing one for himself and leaving one for Jed on the counter. “What?”
    Jed popped the top and took a big swig. “Nothin’. Just something Mike said earlier. He thinks Miss Uptight Accountant might be an undercover sex freak or something.”
    Noble grabbed the bag and pulled the sandwiches out. “Hmmm.”
    “What do you mean ‘ hmmm ?’”
    Jed waited while Noble unwrapped his sandwich and swallowed his first mouthful before asking again. “Well? What do you mean?”
    “I mean, haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘still waters run deep? ’ ” He wiggled his brows suggestively.
    “Yeah, I guess you’d know,” Jed murmured to himself. “But, there’s no way those waters run nearly deep enough. Did you get a good look at her granny get-up? Jezus. Even my grandma dressed better than that. I just don’t know if I trust waters quite that still and . . .” He glanced over with a smirk. “Boring.”
    Noble quirked a smartass brow. “And, what, you’re so great with the alternative?”
    Jed knew he’d better let that one go. Noble knew too much and he wasn’t in the mood to rehash his shitty love life.
    “Besides,” Noble continued after another large mouthful. “I happen to know the true measure of a woman is not her clothes. It’s her shoes. And that one was wearing ‘fuck-me’ heels.” He grinned. “Hoo, doggy.”
    Jed shot him a glare. “What the hell? You been reading Kierstan’s Cosmos or something? Jeez, dude. You goin’ soft on me?”
    “Nope. Just observant. So,” Noble said, effectively changing the subject and bringing them both back to the meatball Stromboli and beer. “How’s your mom?”
    Jed sat down at the kitchen table and decided he’d give his friend a pass on the whole high-heel issue. “She’s good.”
    “You still going over there every few days?”
    The two men exchanged a look. In the years they’d been best friends, they’d perfected the wordless conversation. In the days and weeks and months after Jed’s father died, they’d both been worried about his mother. Hell, she’d practically been Noble’s mother, too, during their teen years. So, Jed had checked on her daily at first. Sometimes more than once a day. Now, over a year later, she’d found some semblance of emotional balance and he’d been able to back