Loving a Bad Boy (Bad Boys Western Romance Book 4)

by Susan Arden

  “Something a problem?” she asked, watching the way a muscle clenched and unclenched along the side of his jaw. “I can rework the design—”

  “Don’t,” he said then coughed. “Let’s do this. Can you do the feathers, here, as if the wind is moving through them at a different angle?”

  “Oh yeah. A little chaos. Great idea.”

  Ivy leaned over and looked at the design. “Sommer, this is really good. And right off the top of your head.”

  “I was thinking about the design since I saw your tattoo last night. Glad you like it. I just need to transfer it to your skin, and then we can get started. Let me refine the design. Won’t take long.”

  “I’ll go get us some coffee,” Ivy said. “Any takers?”

  Vince reached into his pocket and withdrew his wallet, holding it out to Ivy. “Got cash or a credit card. You need me to pay upfront?”

  “Nope,” she said and pointed to the sign that had her hourly fee. “I work by the hour. All I need is your signature on a couple of forms and for you to sit up so I can take a look at your back and shoulders.”

  “Vince, what do you want?” Ivy slipped his wallet into her purse.

  One night and Ivy already had wallet privileges. How far did things go last night?

  Sommer pursed her lips. Soon this guy would be out of here and on the road, going all the way to Los Angeles. But what about Ivy? Sure her friend acted all cool, but she hadn’t seen Ivy this… Quiet was the only description that came to mind. Subdued was the sassy and snarky side of Ivy, and in its place was a soft and vulnerable one.

  Holy moly! Her heart hurt for her friend.

  Ivy looked over at her while lowering the pair of sunglasses from the top of her head. “Latte. Two cubes of ice?”

  “Please. You’re a lifesaver! Let me grab my purse.”

  “Forget it,” Vince snorted. “It’s on me. Ivy, don’t take her money.”

  “Sorry, chica! You heard the man.”

  “Thanks.” Sommer sat back down, ready to get this show on the road.

  Ivy ended up with an order that included a double espresso for Rachel and a tall black dark roast for Ed. When the bell to the front door chimed, she turned back to Vince and handed him her pad. “This is the final version.”

  “Serious stuff. How do you turn out a design like this so fast?”

  “That’s just how my brain works. Wish I could control what catches my motivation. If it doesn’t interest me or if there’s too much pressure, I procrastinate something terrible.”

  Vince nodded. “Been there. Most people’s story, from what I’ve seen.”

  “Guess it’s easier to fly free,” she said softly, thinking about how sure Rory seemed in wanting to get married, and how she was the one dragging her feet.

  Why though? She should be racing down the aisle toward the finish line in how much she loved, lusted, and was driven to the brink by him.

  But with her mom’s constant nagging about making the right decision, the stress dampened her desire to take a chance. It wasn’t like marrying Rory was buying stock in the right company. Not to her. Marriage was the ultimate risk. A risk that just thinking about made her stomach somersault.

  “What’s your story?” Vince asked, jarring her wandering thoughts.

  “Nothing earth shattering. I grew up around here. Went to a local art school, but I didn’t like the despondency of cubicle created art. For a couple of reasons, I opted out of going the corporate route when I graduated. Tried one small firm, but they went under and closed up. Around here, there aren’t that many artistic opportunities.”

  “Part of the small-town package. The big city isn’t any easier. I’m talking from experience. I graduated from Berklee and after a few gigs, found it wasn’t what I was really into. I needed to get away from being pegged into a slot.”

  “Last night, you guys really kicked it up. You’re an incredible guitarist,” she said.

  “Classically trained. Like my sister. We were child prodigies and started a small rock band out in Boston. Just us two. But that didn’t fall in line with our parents’ way of thinking. They just about blew a gasket on that one.”

  She handed him a clipboard with the customer forms. “I don’t mean to pry, but you said your sister…passed away?”

  Vince glanced down at the forms, then slowly upward as he exhaled a breath. “She died in an automobile accident. Immediate. My parents blamed, still blame me. I don’t have any other sisters or brothers, but they act like both their kids died in that crash.” He closed his arctic blue eyes for a second and dipped his head back against the neck rest.

  “Parents can put a load of undue pressure on kids. I don’t know why they can’t see the effects. Even if it’s grief, if parents get stuck in it and take it out on their kid, it’s pretty intense. It sucks; at least it does for me.” She slipped on some gloves and came over to his side, gently moving his chin so she could see the tattoo and begin transferring her design.

  “Sounds like you know where I’m coming from,” he replied, leveling her with a serious look.

  “My parents divorced when I was little. It got ugly and it’s still not over.” She shrugged, not about to share the real issue of Momma’s bipolar episodes with him. A condition her mom had and liked to ignore by refusing to take her medication consistently. “I can’t get my mom to see that it’s time to move on—or at least get some help that works.”

  Vince nodded while keeping his face turned to the side. “That’s it. So fucking hard to get them to climb out of a dark miserable hole. I dunno. Maybe I deserve some of my parents’ anger. I was driving when another car sideswiped us. Hit the passenger side. It’s shitty how things turn out.”

  “Hopefully, today won’t add to that list.” She studied each of the outer lines running over his skin. “The original tattoo for your sister is really impressive. Photo realism.”

  “Done in San Diego. Not the same ink work as what surrounds it. Maybe I should’ve waited until I returned to LA to deal with the tattoo. Sounds out there, but the truth is, I got a distinct impression last night. I dunno, call it gut instinct or too much bourbon. Whatever it was, here I am.”

  She crimped her sketch pad between her fingers and met Vince’s gaze, wanting him to absorb she wasn’t a flake and understood the underlying current of why this was more than an inking. “I won’t disappoint you. I don’t have any brothers or sisters, and would’ve liked to have one. Still, I get how important this is to you.”

  After working non-stop for hours on Vince’s tattoo, the muscles between Sommer’s shoulder blades burned. She rotated her chin to loosen the cords in her neck that had grown stiff and pumped the ink gun. Not much more to do. Afterwards she’d instruct Vince on her specific protocol for how to care for his tat. Part of the problem with Ed had been that he’d gone fishing too soon. No sun. No water. No rubbing. Ed had done all three and was right back here for a touch-up. Vince would be out in LA and she didn’t want to risk this being a bad idea for someone who already had tons of crap piled on his plate.

  The front doorbell chimed, and Ivy stopped flipping through a magazine and looked up. The corners of her mouth flared. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

  “Naw. No cat would dare touch me.” A man’s voice answered. Vaguely, if not irritatingly, familiar. “I’m here for my body art appointment.”

  Sommer flinched at the intonation in Drew’s tone. It was near to twelve and she’d give him points for arriving before noon. She prayed to hear Jen’s snarky commentary, but there was dead silence except for the low hum of her gun. She looked over her shoulder and pressed her lips into a line. Drew stood in the outer room, watching her, or really her ass.

  Good thing she’d dressed in jeans and a band T-shirt today. Nothing outlandish. No hidden message that she was trying to attract anyone’s attention.

  “Hi, Drew,” she said.

  Instantly, his eyes snapped to hers and he smil
ed. Not the free and open grin that Vince wore, but the type that made a Cheshire cat seem modest. He nodded to her. “Sommer, how goes it?”

  Ivy rose and came to stand next to Vince. “Amazing work, girl.”

  “Almost done.” She wiped the back of her wrist over her forehead.

  “You gotta see this.” Ivy turned toward Drew and waved him over. “By the way, where’s Jen?”

  “Don’t know. She split and I came here.”

  “I’m taking off in a minute,” Rachel said from behind her. She heard the cash register and guessed her boss was gathering today’s receipts, probably going to make a deposit.

  After finishing a line of ink, she replaced the gun in the holder, and blotted Vince’s shoulder blade.

  “Need anything?” Rachel asked and she looked up meeting her gaze in the mirror.

  Shaking her head, Sommer asked, “You going to the bank?”

  “It’s the holiday.”

  “Oh right,” she replied, noticing that Drew wasn’t staring at her. She breathed easier without his dark eyes constantly following her. After last night with Bell and Lonny, she felt like snapping if he tried something.

  Drew had his arms crossed in front of his chest as Rachel bent over the counter, trying to catch a receipt that flipped free from her fingertips. He knelt and picked it up then set it on the counter.

  “So you’re here for a tattoo?” Rach asked him in her velvet voice.

  “Or something,” he replied.

  “It’s always the ‘or something’ that gets a person into trouble.” Rachel cocked her head, giving as good as she got. “You aren’t from around here, are you?” If anyone could deal with him, it’d be Rach. Her boss would eat him up and spit him out.

  “Up from Austin. Hellhound. Our band is on the way out to the West Coast, in a roundabout way.” Drew lazily pointed his chin toward Vince.

  Her boss nodded. “Best to keep moving then.” If she was openly telling him to step off, it meant he was too hot to handle. Or a complete dick. Since he scored high on both scales, her boss must’ve deemed him a no go.

  Drew laughed. “Is that right?”

  “It’s free advice. Take it or leave it.”

  “I’m on the fence. You can understand.” Without warning, he swung his glance over to her and she stiffened as though caught in a snare. “You almost ready for me, Sommer?”

  She had a choice. Either make up some excuse, or set the tone for how this inking was about to go down. Allowing him to have the power to unnerve her wasn’t an option. As Rachel walked by her nook, they traded glances. She’d understand if Drew was turned away as an obnoxious client. But it would mean a couple of hundred less for the till, and it wasn’t like they were in Dallas, with a steady stream of high-paying clients. Rach covered all the expenses.

  Looking over at Ivy, Sommer whisper-mouthed, “Give me a second.”

  “Okay,” Ivy answered as her eyes went wide.

  She walked up to Drew. Hardly an extended journey but each step felt mountainous in how he watched her. They were alone in the front room and he asked, “What’s up?”

  “Look, I don’t think this is going to work out,” she spoke in a low voice, without breaking eye contact.

  Drew lifted off the counter. “I came when you asked. What happened?”

  “Probably nothing remarkable, in your world,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not into guys who feel the need to assert themselves like you do. Our personalities don’t mesh. It’s no big deal.”

  No longer cajoling, his pitch eyes consumed her. Drew’s face tensed and he shook his head. “Maybe we should talk?”

  “We just did,” she countered.

  He moved in front of her with his catlike grace, spearing his arms through the beaded curtain, and then he was there waiting, a foot in front of her. “We’re not done talking.”

  She followed him into her space, her face heating, and she stared back at him on the verge of demanding that he leave. “We are for now.”

  Ivy appeared at her side. “Everything all right?”

  As soon as her place was clear, she’d deal with him. “For the moment.” She nodded and crossed toward her chair.

  She heard Ivy say, “Be cool, Drew.”

  “Babe, I fully intend on seeing this tattoo experience through,” he replied in a smooth voice.

  “Vince,” she began, ignoring Drew, and focused her attention on her immediate client. “Here’s a sheet on the care of your tattoo. If you can do the wet treatment, it would really do wonders for your ink. Open up the pores of your skin and then seal them. No sun. No swimming. Sun protection each day. Don’t scratch. And you’ll be fine.”

  Ivy tapped her shoulder and held out her hand. “I’d better take those for safe keeping.”

  Sommer gave her the instructions and bottle of aloe lotion she gave out to her newly inked clients.

  “How much do I owe you?” Vince stood up. He seemed taller than she remembered. Could be the small space as Drew resumed his intense perusal of Sommer, which made her corner condense further.

  “Got your wallet,” Ivy opened up her purse to him, still reading the instructions.

  He reached inside and removed his wallet, leaning down and brushing his mouth along Ivy’s cheek. “You got more than that.”

  Ivy stopped reading and leaned against Vince, snaking her arms around his broad shoulders as he whispered in her ear.

  “Get a room,” Drew remarked. “You two are making me fucking horny as hell.”

  “Sucks to be you ‘cause I’m not sharing.”

  “Bullshit. Since when?”

  Vince’s expression hardened. “Since now, Drew.”

  “Vince, I’ll get you a receipt.” Sommer moved to the counter.

  Rachel was set to leave as Sommer typed out an invoice on the computer. Normally, she included her cell number. This time, she clicked the mouse and removed it from the form. Not a chance in hell would she give Drew an in on how to connect.

  “Be careful,” Rachel whispered.

  “Is this opposite day? He doesn’t understand no means no,” Sommer muttered in a low voice, thinking of Lonny last night.

  “Don’t let him screw with your head. You’re being nice and with some guys...” Rachel flicked a glance over toward Drew, then back to her. “They eat that up. It’s intoxicating to their ego-soaked brains. Don’t fall for the line of bullshit I’m sure he’s capable of laying down. Got it?”

  “Loud and clear.”

  “Want me to stay?”

  “Nope. I can deal with him.”

  Rachel winked. “See ya tomorrow.”

  “What are you doing tonight?” she asked.

  “Cookout with friends. Special friends.” Rachel lifted her motorcycle helmet and strolled to the door where she stopped and said, “See ya’ll around.”

  “Later,” Ivy returned while Drew and Vince chatted.

  When the door shut, Ivy came over to the counter with Vince’s credit card. She seemed tense, lightly tapping the counter with her fingers. “Any questions?”

  “No. Seems pretty straight forward. If he does what he’s told.” Ivy flicked her gaze to Vince then back to her. “More of a rule breaker than a follower.”

  “Oh. Right.” She winked at Ivy. The receipt printed out and Sommer handed it to her friend.

  “Vince?” Tilting her head, Ivy showed him the receipt.

  “Just sign my name, baby,” he directed her while buttoning his shirt.

  “Men,” Ivy huffed. “Give me a sec.” She walked over to Vince with the receipt and tugged on his arm.

  Instead of standing around, Sommer stretched, ambling toward the back room and took out her phone. Rory had texted her several messages. That wasn’t like him. She opened the first and her breath caught in her throat. She recognized the open field as part of Evermore, but it was his message that made her stop and reread the line of text several t
imes. Home sweet home.

  She scrolled down the screen, admiring the photographs that he’d sent. This morning he’d gone home and something big had happened. He went from living with his folks to the owner of twenty acres. Twenty acres and he wanted her opinion about where to pour the foundation. He asked that she call him and she didn’t know what to say…What to think.

  Chapter 12

  “Sommer, where’d you go?” Ivy called from down the hall.

  She tucked her cell phone in her pocket, not about to call Rory back until she could organize her thoughts. Without any undue idiot pressure from Drew the smartass. Once Ivy and Vince left, she’d deal with him and his ego, and then call Rory. Okay, she had a plan, and her racing pulse could settle the hell down.

  Vince handed her the receipt with a hefty tip, and she blinked as her neck heated. He was pretty generous, for just starting out as an opening band act.

  “Thanks.” She stuck the receipt on the side of her ink gun. “So Vince, you understand, your skin needs to rest. You’ve been through this before. Be good to your tattoo and it’ll be good to you.”

  “Better listen, Vincent. Words of wisdom from the maker,” Drew said in a mocking tone.

  “I wouldn’t do a thing to mess this one up. Seriously, I know what to do and if I lapse, I got this one here to keep me straight. Don’t I?” Vince encircled his arm around Ivy’s waist, hoisting her a couple inches off the floor.

  “Maybe. Noooooo. Don’t you dare tickle me. Viiiiin.”

  Hearing her friend’s tinkling giggle broke the tension that had been building. Besides being beautiful, Ivy had an infectious laugh. She felt the corners of her lips curl.

  “Girl, don’t tease me.” Apparently, Vince had no problem kissing Ivy in public.

  Hands down, there was a rock-solid feel beginning to form by how Vince kept alluding to them as a unit. Hard to tell.

  In the mirror, she averted her gaze from Drew by picking up her ink rag and wiping off her gun and switching out nozzles and needles.