Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
I get their items together, knowing whose drink is whose, and thinking of each man as I stick the cups in the carrier. There are also cookies for Zipper, and a couple of muffins, which I bag up, and then I’m on my way.
Excitement prevails on my drive over, but nervousness takes over when I get to the shop and see their empty lobby. Tattoo guns buzz away, amazingly still audible over the raucous beats of “Volcano Girls” by Veruca Salt.
I get a flashback to my first time in the shop, and worry that the men will go back to their unwelcoming ways—well, Hutch was welcoming that first day, but the others weren’t, and maybe now they’re going to go back to semi-ignoring me. I had such a strong afterglow last night that it didn’t occur to me how bad it looked that I had to rush out on them. Surely, they’d rather be with an older woman, not one who has to rush home to report to her brother.
Suddenly, Hutch is coming toward me, and I release a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. When Mace follows him out, my shoulders relax.
“Rose, how are you doing?” Hutch’s eyes are filled with warmth.
“I’m good.” So much better now.
“I wanted to text you last night to make sure you got home okay, but I don’t have your number,” Hutch says. His brows are lifted, the question implicit, and I hesitate for a beat. Giving him my number creates another connection between us, and I’m not sure that’s a good thing, not with all of the reasons we can’t have a long-term connection.
But I agree, because there’s no real reason to say no, and we exchange contact information. I do the same with Mace, and then with Christian and Zipper, after they come out accompanied by clients who render payment at the counter and leave the shop.
“Anybody else here?” I ask, wondering if Hutch or Mace need to get back to their stalls.
Hutch shakes his head. “Just the five of us.”
Mace takes a drink of his coffee, then turns his full focus to me. “Have any plans tonight?”
Again, I hesitate. I’d been so excited, and also so anxious, about seeing the men today that I didn’t prepare myself to respond to another invitation. Of course, I want to be with them again, but there are reasons I shouldn’t, chief among them the way I basically obsessed over them all day. If I formed that kind of attachment after one night, how much worse off would I be after two?
But it’s Mace asking, and that takes me by surprise, too, since Christian and Hutch have been the initiators.
“What do you have in mind?”
He’s leaning against a wall, one hand in his pocket, looking impossibly sexy. “I’d like to take you for a ride on my bike.”
Oh. I didn’t even know he rode a motorcycle, and apparently, he’s inviting me out for a one-on-one activity. I look around at the other men, wondering if they’ll have a problem with this proposition, but they simply look curious about what my response will be.
I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle, and the idea of sitting behind Mace with my arms wrapped around him is very enticing. “I have to work tonight, but that sounds like fun.”
“When are you available?”
I name my next night off, and Mace says that will work. “Can I pick you up at your house?” he asks.
I shake my head, and could almost laugh at how all the things Patrick wouldn’t like about this situation are piling up: tattoo artists, the fact that there’s four of them and only one of me, our age difference, the wild sex we had, and now a motorcycle ride, which Patrick would most definitely think was dangerous. “I can meet you here,” I offer.
“Is this about your brother being in your business?” Zipper sounds very disapproving of the situation.
“It’s different with him than with most brothers,” I explain. “Our mom passed away when I was eighteen. My brother is six years older than me, and I think he’s felt responsible for me ever since that happened.”
“I’m sorry to hear about the loss of your mom,” Hutch says, and the other men murmur similar sentiments.
“Your dad’s not in the picture?” Christian asks.
I shake my head. “He left when I was two and never came back. We have no idea where he is and no contact with anyone from his side of the family. I guess I don’t even remember him. Sometimes I think I do, but it’s probably just stories from my brother that make me think that.”
Hutch’s face has gone cold, so I ask him what’s wrong.
“It pisses me off when people don’t live up to their commitments. A man shouldn’t get a woman pregnant if he doesn’t intend to stick around and raise his child.”