“My baby.” His chest expanded with pride. “Bought it myself when I was seventeen.”
She pointed to the vehicle and then to him. Unable to keep the smile from her face, she said, “Black Jeep, black jacket, black jeans, and black shirt? Either you’re crazy about the color black, or you’re seriously depressed.”
His lips curved. “Wiseass, get in my Jeep.”
But there was a guitar case in the way. He hefted the case into the rear, freeing up the passenger seat.
“You play?”
Another of his amazing smiles brightened his face. “From time to time.”
He went around to the other side. Once inside, he removed the sunglasses, folded them up, and placed them on the dash.
She leaned toward. “Let me look at that cut.”
He swatted her hand away. “It’s fine.”
She used her authoritative doctor’s voice. “Let me see it.”
He turned toward her. It was not as bad as she’d feared but worse than it should have been.
Someone had slapped Steri-Strips across it and used superglue to seal the edges. Not a bad job, but she could have sutured it, so the cut would heal with hardly a scar.
“You told me you were going to have it taken care of.” She traced the line of the cut. The puckered raw edges made her shake her head. “You should have let me stitch it up.”
He squeezed her hand. “I know, but now, I have a battle scar from fighting over my girl.” His eyes flashed in the light, sparkling with more brilliance than Spencer's diamond.
“I’m not your girl.”
“Well, when I tell the story of how I won you over, it’ll be priceless.” He released her hand and turned on the ignition. “Now, how do I get to your place?”
She wasn’t sure how she felt about the scar, but from the way Ash’s chest puffed out, he seemed proud of it.
He slipped the Jeep into traffic and wove between the cars. Hard rock streamed through the speakers. As she leaned forward to reach the speaker controls so that she could turn the music down for him to hear the directions to her place, her gaze caught on the spiderweb tattoo covering his neck.
The web had been inked in black, but up close, she saw the edges had been outlined in red. Some of the strands oozed blood. In the center, the dragon she had only glimpsed before stared out at her with a defiant glare. The silk seemed to sway under the dragon’s weight as its talons curled around the bloody strands. Its ruby eyes gleamed with a fiery glow, and the blackbird, which she’d originallythought was ensnared by the dragon, was instead held with a gentle grip.
Catching her out of the corner of his eye, he fractionally turned his head as he pulled up to a Stop sign. “You’re staring.”
A flush warmed her neck and crept up her cheeks. “Sorry, but your tattoo is amazing.”
He rubbed at his neck. “Yeah, one of my many acts of teenage defiance. Totally freaked my mom out.”
“How old were you when you got it?”
“Seventeen. Got it the same day I bought the Jeep, but it took a few years to finish it off.”
“I thought you had to be eighteen to get a tattoo?”
“Well, I knew the artist. Mom didn’t speak to me for a week. I got the web first.”
“Does it mean anything?”
“Maybe. But I’m not going to spill all my secrets on the first date.”
“Is that what this is? A first date?”
“Not really.” He reached over and stroked her thigh. The heat of his palm radiated through the fabric of her jeans, stirring arousal elsewhere. “Technically, it’s the second. No way can I forget our first kiss.”
