“I can read.”
I rolled my eyes. “Smartass.”
A grin tugged at his mouth. “I’ll see you around, Josie Jensen.” Then he pushed through the door and headed across the street.
I watched him disappear into Bad Habit, then I looked down at the empty bowl he’d left behind with a twenty-dollar bill under it.
And for some reason I couldn’t stop smiling, which was ridiculous.
Rome was attractive, and funny, and tattooed, and clearly not interested in anything beyond ice cream.
That was fine.
More than fine.
I wasn’t looking for anything. Not after Bruce and not after the divorce.
Not after finally building a life that belonged to me. As I grabbed the bowl and headed for the sink, I found myself glancing out the window toward Bad Habit.
That was a bad habit I was going to break.
Chapter Four
Rome
By the time my last appointment was done at Bad Habit, it was close to nine.
The shop was quiet except for the low hum of the lights overhead and the faint buzz still sitting in my ears from the machine I’d been running for the last three hours. I pulled off my gloves, tossed them into the trash, and leaned back on my stool long enough to roll my shoulders.
“You’re getting old,” Grinder said from the chair.
I glanced over at him.
He was still sitting there, staring down at the fresh ink wrapping around his forearm. The skin was red and angry around the edges, but the lines were clean. The piece was simple, but it meant something to him. Club name. Dates. A small skull tucked into the shading.
“You’re the one who needed two breaks,” I said.
Grinder looked up and scowled. “That was because I was hungry.”
“Sure.”
“Fuck off.”
I smirked and stood. “Keep it wrapped for two hours. Wash it with unscented soap. Thin layer of ointment. Don’t pick at it.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ve got more ink than you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Feels like I do.”
“That’s because you whine more.”
He laughed and pushed up from the chair. Grinder was a big guy. Wide shoulders. Thick beard. Club cut over a black hoodie. He looked like the kind of man most people crossed the street to avoid.
I knew better.
Grinder looked mean because he was mean when he needed to be. He was also the first guy to show up when someone needed help moving furniture or pulling a car out of a ditch.
