Chapter Thirteen
Dominic
“I’ll put you down for Thursday at 4 o’clock. Can you get off work that early?” I type Sam’s name into the computer. Even though we live together, I’ve put my foot down regarding at-home tats. If the guys want pieces done, they’re sitting in my chair. And paying.
“Yep. I’ll go in early so I can cut out an hour early.” Sam shoves his wallet into his back pocket. “Is Levi ready for the game Friday night?”
“I haven’t seen him since last week’s game, but Mom said he was itching to get back on the field. They lost to this team last year, so they’re out for revenge.” I lean my hip against the counter. “I wish I could make it to more of his away games.”
“He knows you’re in his corner.” Sam chuckles. “That we’re all in his corner, reliving the glory days.”
“Ugh.” Rissa strolls into the lobby while wiping her hands on her apron. “Why are dudes always talking about their glory days being their high school football days? Why aren’t their glory days the days of waking up early and feeding a six-pound baby? Or crawling out of bed at midnight to change a baby’s dirty diaper?” She winks. “I just don’t get it.”
“Please.” Sam shudders. “Don’t say those words around us. We’re allergic to wives and babies. Right, bro?” Sam swivels his head around to face me.
“Yeah, sure.” I nod and bite my lower lip. I’m not as opposed to it as Sam is, but there’s no point in saying that. If I do, he’ll start the twenty questions on who I’d want to marry and have kids with.
Rissa crosses her arms over her chest. “What’s wrong with wives and babies?”
The door chimes peal as someone opens the door. A woman with long blonde hair and brunette highlights steps into the room. She’s wearing a short black top that shows off her midriff, cutoff denim shorts, and black combat boots.
“Women are as high maintenance as babies,” Sam mutters. “And I’m still sowing my wild oats.”
“Sowing your wild oats.” Rissa snorts and turns her attention to the customer waiting inside the front door. “Sister, have you heard such crazy talk before?”
The woman slides a curtain of hair behind her ear, and I nearly swallow my tongue. Bella. Holy shit. “Actually, I’ve heard it from Sam and Dominic too many times to count.”
My eyes rake over her from head to toe again. Now that I know it’s her, the outfit looks completely different. Barely-there shorts. A snug top that not only shows off her stomach, but also reveals more than a hint of cleavage. Her hair is shaped differently, giving it that sexy bedhead look. Fuck.
“What’re you doing here, and why do you look like a prostitute?” Sam crosses his arms over his chest and glares at her.
“High maintenance, sowing your wild oats, and prostitute in the same conversation?” Bella’s eyes flash in irritation at her brother. “Where did you learn all those big words and ways of saying things?”
“A dictionary and a thesaurus. Do you need me to explain what they mean? I can pull them up on my phone and read the definitions aloud.”
My hands ball into fists. She was gorgeous before. Now, I can’t keep my eyes off her. I rotate my shoulders back and growl, “Sam is right. What’s with the new clothes and hair?”
“I’m trying something new out.” Her eyes narrow into tiny slits. “It’s called making my own decisions.”
“I like it.” Rissa walks forward and clasps Bella’s hand. “I’m Rissa, and I’m guessing you know these guys.”
“Yes.” Bella’s face remains stiff as she accepts Rissa’s hand. “Sam is my brother, and Dominic is his blockhead best friend.”
“Blockhead?” Seriously? Is everyone going to drag out the ancient insults?
“Yes, you’re a blockhead. Or would you prefer a tool?” She releases Rissa’s hand and steps back. “You both act like I’ve committed a cardinal sin by getting my hair cut and buying a new outfit.”
“One that all the guys are going to want to get off you. Do not go to the bar in that outfit.” Sam’s jaw flexes as the tips of his ears redden. He spends most of his time pretending to find Bella annoying, but he worries about her safety as much as I do.
“Sam is right.”
“You both are ridiculous. Just because a girl wears nice clothes doesn’t mean she’s looking to put out.” She slaps her other hand on her hips. “But maybe I am. And either way, it’s not either of your businesses.”
“Well said.” Rissa claps as she speaks, and for the first time since I started working here, I want to tell my boss to shut the fuck up. But I value my livelihood, so I keep my mouth shut.
“Thank you.” Bella tips her head toward Rissa, but she still looks like she swallowed a packet of sour candy while addressing her. “I’m here to get a tattoo.”
“No. You. Are. Not.” Sam stomps across the floor, grabs Bella’s arm, and tugs. But she doesn’t budge.
“I’m twenty-one. You can’t tell me what to do, and I’m getting a tattoo. I was planning to get one on my shoulder, but now I think I’ll get it under my panties so when guys at the bar tell you what it is, you’ll know who was there to see it.”
“Oh, my God.” Rissa laughs until tears fill her eyes. “I love your sass. You remind me of me before I got married and had three kids. Growing up with three brothers was a bitch.”
“You’re married?” Bella tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Yes.” Rissa grins and crosses her arms over her chest. “Yes, I’m married to an amazing guy.”
“And everyone knows that you’re married?” Bella’s gaze flits from Rissa’s to mine and then back.
“Of course, he’s a regular around here. Macho like all these other brutes but he’s a big softy for me and the kids.”
“I see.” What is her deal? She talked about Rissa the other day like she knew who she was, but now, she’s giving her twenty questions about being married, and whether it’s common knowledge. It doesn’t make any sense.
“I can’t wait to tell Katie and the girls about you. They’re going to love you. Do you like girl’s nights out? We have some killer ones with drinks, food, and talking smack about guys.”
“That sounds really nice.” The unfriendly expression from before shifts to a softer look. “But I don’t have a guy.”
“Sweetheart…” Rissa walks up to her and pats her shoulder. “You will. I give it one week, and you’re going to have a guy eating out of the palm of your hand, and Dominic has a free hour right now so he can work on your tattoo. I’ve got to help Sam figure out that women and babies aren’t so bad.” She grabs Sam’s arm and drags him toward the door.
“Hey.”
“Hey, what?” She glares at him. “You need to get off your sister’s case. She’s twenty-one years old. She’s a grown woman, and if you want to keep her in your life, you need to respect her.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
I shake my head. She’s the tiniest thing but packs a mighty punch. Kind of like Bella.
As the door slams shut, I clear my throat and wipe my hands on my jeans. “Getting a tattoo isn’t a good idea when you haven’t given it much thought. I understand you’re irritated by Sam telling you that you can’t get one, but that’s not a reason to permanently mar your body. You’re perfect the way you are.”
Shit. Did I say perfect? Yes, yes, I did. My face floods with heat. I can’t take it back and not look like an ass, and it’s the truth. I’ve seen enough of her in a bikini to know she’s perfection.
She studies me until I’m squirming in my own combat boots. I should’ve kept my mouth shut because I have no business discussing her body.
“Which room?” She marches toward me.
“Second on the right.”
She brushes past me. “Under my panty line.”
My heart thunders in my chest. It would be hard enough to have my hands on her and not lose my mind if I were drawing a tattoo on her shoulder. But under her panties? “I can’t. Sam will kick my ass.”
“Tell him I chickened out.” She glances at me over her shoulder. “It’ll be our little secret.”
Jesus. Who is this woman? She was dangerous before. Now, I’m likely to detonate all over her.