Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Who’s Little Miss Muffet here?” a new voice asks from the doorway. This guy’s wearing a T-shirt at least, though he might as well not be considering how it should be paid overtime for how much work it’s doing to keep him contained. I can make out every single plane and angle of his ripped torso.
Green eyes. I’ve always been a sucker for pretty eyes, and he’s got the deepest green I’ve ever seen. I could tumble over and over into those mossy pools until I drown. I’m so lost in them I hardly notice how he’s looking me up and down, pausing at my chest before dragging his gaze back up to my face. His lips twist in a wicked smile and he rubs a hand over his five o’clock shadow. His short blond hair is a sexy mess, like he just rolled out of bed after… well, you know.
“Nitro,” both Wraith and Tank say at the same time in greeting.
“Don’t any of you have real names?” I blurt out before I can stop myself, though I do manage to not ask if they’re really Gary, Bob and Arthur. Three flat stares are the only answer I get. I guess they’re too cool for that.
Does Nitro work here, too? They all seem like they know each other well, teasing each other like siblings. I feel out of place in my stylish pink interview suit. Wraith shakes his head and goes back to the tattoo. It looks like the handle of a gun that would be pointing right at Tank’s, um, gun. At first it’s interesting to watch as Wraith strengthens the outline of the grip, wiping away excess ink and blood, but a wave of nausea washes over me and I have to grab the edge of Tank’s chair.
“You okay?” Wraith asks, picking up on it immediately.
“Absolutely!” I say, my voice way too bright and strained.
“She’s cute,” Nitro says, strolling over to a fridge and grabbing a beer like he knows the place well. “Why are you here, princess? Is this a sorority thing? Because if you need to bang a bad boy to pledge or something, my dick is available.”
“She’s here for the fucking job, asshole,” Wraith mutters.
Nitro winks. “My offer stands. Just like my—”
Wraith cuts him off. “What kind of experience do you have? Your resume said you work at a salon?” The tattoo gun buzzes one last time before Wraith wipes off the tattoo, applies some sort of cream and then pastes a transparent patch over the work.
I swallow hard as he starts cleaning up the equipment. I’ve never liked needles, but I didn’t think I’d have a problem with tattoos. “Y—yeah. I’m sort of the everything girl. I work at the front desk with appointments and payments, help with shampoos, waxing, eyebrow shaping. Sometimes I do touch-ups, and if they’re busy I help with makeup for events. It’s good experience but their clientele is older and it’s super rare that anyone wants anything interesting. I feel like—”
Wraith holds his hand up for me to stop. “Sweetheart, don’t take this personally, but this is a fucking tattoo parlor, not Budget Trim.”
“Oh, yeah, totally. And I know I’d just be in reception at least to start, but I saw on your website that you used to offer piercings, and I have my certification so I thought maybe if it worked out, I could offer other stuff too. I just really want to work somewhere where the most creative choice in my day isn’t brown or black mascara.”
“Kaylee. Kaylee. Take a breath. You’re not on fucking trial here.”
“That’s good, because all the lawyer would have to do is look at her and she’d tell them her life story,” Tank says with a laugh.
I feel myself flush. He’s not wrong, but still. Rude.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, sweetheart, but I’m not sure this is a good fit. This is a rough neighborhood for a girl like you, and I saw the way you turned a little green when you watched me ink Tank.”
“It’s fine! I’m fine. I really want this opportunity.”
“And you don’t have a problem with the way these guys were talking? Because we’re fucking boy scouts compared to some of the people who come in here. I wouldn’t let anyone fuck with you, but I can’t be mopping up your tears if someone says something rude. And the way you look? Words are gonna be said, Kaylee.”
Should I be scared or flattered? No one’s given me this kind of attention, like ever. And especially not guys like this. I’m never thin or perfect enough for the types of guys my friends hook up with, and guys like these don’t even notice I exist. They’re always with cool, badass chicks.
“I can do this. I know I can.”
Tank pulls his massive frame out of the chair and walks up to me, taking his time with refastening his jeans. I have to crane my neck to look up at him when he hooks his finger under my chin, his skin rough against mine. “You think so? Because a sweet little thing like you? The guys won’t be able to stop themselves. Shit, I dunno if I can, and I’m a fucking gentleman.”