SIX (10 page)

“Sunday—day of rest, my ass,” Lucky bitches.

I have him cleaning the shop from top to bottom.

Health inspectors can show up unannounced and hygiene is a big deal for a tattoo shop.

I like the floor and counters to be clean enough to eat your dinner off of, and with it only being the two of us, we are pretty on top of shit every day after finishing up, but I like to have a monthly deep clean.

“Don’t forget to do the mirrors.”

He stops sweeping and glares at me.

“Where the hell are you going?”

Picking up the bottle of water he left on the counter, I chuck it at him and laugh when it bounces off the elbow he sticks out to cover his face with the back of his hand.

“Are you my boss?” I bark.

Sticking his middle finger up in my direction, a sarcastic smile lifts his lips, earning him a deadly laugh from me.

I needed to clear some of my shit out the apartment upstairs so Misty could settle in and not feel like she’s crashing at my house.

I want her to feel like she’s moving into a place she can call her own.

I nearly let her crash at mine last night—what a big mistake that would have been.

Letting myself into the apartment, I find her in the kitchen cooking and singing along to the radio.

She’s wearing a stringy top and no fucking bra.

The curve of her tits draws my attention as she bounces around the kitchen. Fuck me.

“Hey,” I greet, and she squeaks and drops a towel.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” she breathes, holding her chest, drawing my eyes back to her tits.

“You’re just in time for some food.”

She’s too delicate for me. She’s like a flower and I’m a weed growing strong around her. I’d strangle her and then everything that makes her bloom will be gone.

I want to get lost in her and not think about the repercussions, but the man who failed Haley haunts me like an advocate on my shoulder, stopping me from being the wild man I am.

I should live in this moment and taste her.

She wants me to, but she’ll want more, then I’ll hurt her and she’ll leave.

I’d rather have her here as just my bar manager—as my friend—than let her leave and hurt from the pain I’ll no doubt inflict.

“Six?” I scrunch my nose up in distaste.

“No thanks. I’ve seen the aftermath of your cooking. I’ll pass and order a pizza.”

Her pretty, pouty mouth forms an O big enough to fit my cock in, making it tingle and twitch in my pants.

Great, now I’m going to have to shake the beast before I’ll be able to sleep tonight.

“I’m a great cook,” she defends, her voice higher than usual.

I’ve either offended her or amused her, and I hate not knowing which.

“By who’s standard of great, Mist? Different men have different tastes when it comes to flavor.”

Her head rears back a little and one eye gets smaller as she studies me.

“Are you thinking food is an innuendo?”

“What? Was it one?” Damn, I did think I would be inside her after food, or before it, but I didn’t think food was her way of saying
“Let’s fuck”
.

“I meant just food, Six. God, I already know I’m not your type. You didn’t need to use flavor as a way of letting me know I’m too vanilla for your preferences. What the hell?”

“I came to get some of my things,” I say, trying to change the subject.

“Well, don’t let me stop you.”

Not knowing how to deal with the miscommunication, I stand here for a minute, looking like a statue.

When her eyes narrow at me, I turn and leave her to it.

Staring down at the rumpled covers of the bed she slept in last night, I have the urge to lay face down and inhale.

For some reason—maybe because she’s so neat with the bar—I thought she would be one for making her bed, but the covers are tossed back like she just got up and didn’t have a care in the world.

That thought brings a smile to my lips.

I grab up some of my shit, stuff it into a bag, and exit the place without another word.

I need a drink and Sundays are our quietest nights in the bar, so we all like to close early and have some time for shooting the shit.

We’re all gathered at the bar.

It’s been a slow night and I’m pleased because Jude brought his girl, Megan, with him and watching them bicker is funny as shit.

How they are together is a mystery.

They fight like an old married couple when in reality they are a relatively new couple.

“Why can’t sex just be sex? What do you think, Parker?” Megan asks.

I don’t remember where or how this conversation started, but it’s in full swing and quite amusing to listen to the answers.

“I think I’d rather work out.” She winks.

“You can burn the same amount of calories fucking as you would running five miles,” Lucky states, smirking at her.

“Who the hell runs five miles in thirty seconds?” she snaps back, taking her glass and refilling it with a smirk of her own.

“Sex is just math. You add the bed, subtract the clothes, divide the legs, and pray you don’t multiply,” Jude offers, knocking back his shot.

“You’re a pig,” Megan spits.

“When are you going to stop being a bitch?”

“When you stop asking me if you can fuck other women.”

“Woman,” he huffs “I asked for a pass with one woman.”

Her hand connects with the side of his head.

A slapping sound rings out and everyone bursts into a chorus of laughter.

“I’ve always found this about women, it’s easier to get forgiveness than permission—just for future reference,” Lucky informs him.

“Do you want a slap as well?”

“All I want is a woman who will make me a sandwich afterwards.” Lucky rubs his gut.

“If a woman can still walk after you’ve fucked her, you don’t deserve one,” Parker responds, gaining an applause from everyone else.

“I like surprise sex,” Megan adds.

“Surprise sex is always good,” Parker agrees.

“Unless you’re in prison,” I join in with a serious expression and tone, causing the room to hush into silence.

“I’m fucking with you,” I laugh, gesturing for another beer.

“So, what do you think about sex, Six?”

I look around the room at each of them before my eyes land on Misty, who’s watching me intently.

“I think sex is like playing cards. If you don’t have a good group to play with, you better have a good hand.”

My eyes clash with Misty’s, but I don’t linger on her. Instead, I smile over at Lucky, who’s grinning at me like a Cheshire cat.

“Why are all men gross?” Megan asks, not really expecting an answer.

“Why, what’s your take on sex? Do enlighten us.”

“I think it’s something that should be between two people in love.”

A chorus of groans ring out and she flicks her hand in the air.

“Whatever.”

“Misty, what about you?”

“This oughtta be good,” Lucky sniggers.

She looks around the group, her eyes coming to rest on me as she picks her jacket up and slips into it.

Reaching for her bag, her eyes never leave mine.

I want to look away—want her not to know how badly I want to hear what she has to say—but I can’t.

She bites her lip and takes a step backwards before spinning on her heal and heading toward the door.

Just when I think she’s not going to play, she turns and says,

“If it’s kinky, dirty, messy, or just plain wrong—I want it. I want the best times of my life to be the ones I can’t tell anyone about.” She blushes crimson, but it’s not embarrassment—it’s heated flesh from the conviction of her words.

She leaves everyone speechless and me breathless as she walks out.

“Where is she going? Doesn’t she live upstairs now?” Lucky asks.

She wanted to make an impact and leave with a dramatic flair, so she’s probably going around to use the door that never gets used.

I’d applaud her if I didn’t want to sink my dick inside her.

“So, Six,” Megan says, and I reluctantly draw my eyes from the door Misty just exited from, giving her my attention.

“Do you think you could tattoo over this scar?” She points to a lumpy two-inch scar on her wrist.

“Why would you want to cover it? Our scars remind us what we lived through and survived was real. It’s our story—our tattoos of life, written with blood and pain.”

“That’s actually kind of beautiful. Maybe I could have that tattooed next to it instead?” She smiles.

“Sure. Come in the shop tomorrow around noon.”

She claps her hands and pokes Jude in the arm.

I finish the rest of my beer and say my goodbyes.

I can’t sit here knowing
she’s
above my head doing God knows what.

Being out with a girlfriend is foreign to me.

Shopping for dresses, shoes, and having our hair and nails done—it all feels like wasting money, but Parker insisted I come with her and let my hair down for once.

“You work too much—we both do. We need to go out and find some sexy men to take our minds off other sexy men.” She purses her lips.

She’d been telling me things between her and Lucky looked like they might have been going somewhere until she brought Emma into the bar that day.

Ever since, he’s been keeping his distance.

Emma’s dad isn’t in the picture, but Lucky didn’t appear to want to be in any role apart from a sex partner and Parker wasn’t going to give him “the cookie”.

“This would really show them. You need to try it on.”

She hands me a black dress that could be a skin suit it’s so thin and tiny.

“That’s not really my style.” I crinkle my nose.

“Fuck that, Misty. Your style isn’t getting you laid, so slut it up for one night. Please?” she pouts, blowing kisses at me.

“Fine,” I grumble, snatching the dress from her hand and going into a changing room.

The dress is impossible.

I can’t wear a bra with it because it has tiny straps and a triangle cut into the back, exposing most of my spine.

My panty line shows through and I may need to roll in grease to get me out of it.

My sandals don’t really go with it either, but I can’t walk in the heels Parker gave me, so sandals it is.