Oh no he didn’t.
“Hey, this is my business, dude. And when I say that one of my staff members is busy working and can’t see you, I mean it. So back the fuck up and turn your ass around.” My headache returned full force, which only made me crankier. I wasn’t sure exactly what caused me to snap at him, but it was probably the fact I felt so ill combined with the fact that it annoyed me when men didn’t listen to me.
He came to an abrupt halt and turned to face me. The heat in his gaze had disappeared completely. In its place was a dark expression that, along with the hard set of his shoulders, told me I’d pissed him off. Well, fuck him. He was the one in the wrong here. Not me.
Taking a step towards me, he said in a low voice, “You care to repeat that?”
I crossed my arms in front of me. “No, not really. I’m fairly certain you heard what I said.”
“I heard it, but I didn’t fucking like it.”
“Do I look like I care whether you liked it?” This conversation was going downhill at a rapid rate of knots.
“You should care.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard. But I’ve had a long day and am in too much pain to even think about caring. All that matters to me at this point is that my guy finishes the tattoo he’s working on and that my customer is happy with the work. I’ve got bills coming out of my ass, so I kinda need the cash from that job so I can pay them. You barging in there demanding Fox’s time could piss my customer off, which may mean I can’t pay my bills. You see where I’m coming from?”
He watched me in silence for a few moments. I couldn’t tell if he was calming down or getting more worked up. He still looked angry, but his body language told another story.
Just when I was beginning to settle in to go another round with him, he said, “I’ll leave my number. Get him to call me.”
“God, could you be any more bossy?” I muttered before stalking back to the front counter. Locating a pen and paper, I shoved them at him when he joined me there, and said, “And just so we’re clear on something, that invitation to come back to my place for sex no longer stands.”
I couldn’t be sure, but I would have sworn he almost smiled. He jotted down his number as he said, “I see you remember something from last night.”
I snatched the paper from him when he was done. “It just came back to me, so I wanted you to know I’m actually not interested. It was all that damn alcohol I drank that made me say shit I didn’t mean.”
Resting his hands on the counter, he leant over it so our faces were close. “Just so you know, that vibrator of yours has got nothing on my cock.” He tapped the piece of paper with his number on it. “You change your mind, you use that.”
Without another word, he exited my shop, and I stared after him, unable to process the thoughts rushing through my mind. He had me so worked up and so damn confused. On the one hand, I never wanted to see him again. The absolute nerve of him to come to my business and try to tell me how things were going to go down. But on the other hand, the man was hot as hell, and I was more attracted to him than any man I’d met in a long time.
I looked up at the roof, towards the heavens.
Why God?
Why is the only man I want to sleep with a moody asshole?
Chapter 9
Hyde
Women.
Fuck.
Dealing with them was fast becoming the norm in my life. And after all these years of not having to deal with them, it was doing my fucking head in.
For what felt like the fiftieth fucking time that day, I checked my phone for a text from Tenille. It had been over twenty-four hours since I’d left Melbourne, and I was yet to hear from her. My natural instinct was to call and demand to know what was happening with Charlie, but the rational side of me won out, so I shoved my phone back into my pocket and blew out a long, frustrated breath.
“Fucking women,” I muttered under my breath. I was sitting at the bar in the clubhouse waiting for King. Being mid-afternoon Thursday, it wasn’t busy, but the few guys there were fucking noisy. I turned to face them and called out, “Can you assholes keep the fucking noise down?”
They scowled at me. I wasn’t anyone’s favourite person, but at least when I wanted something it was usually given. As they quietened, I turned back to my drink and took a swig, my eyes meeting Kree’s.
“Rough day?”
I didn’t like many people. Not easily, anyway. But Kree was someone I did like. Probably because she knew when to involve herself in something and when to back off. She was smart as hell, too, a trait I valued in a person.
I drained my glass, the second whisky I’d had that afternoon after returning from Monroe’s shop. “Tell me something, Kree. You’ve got kids, right?”