Page 2 of Beg for You

“You looking to get some ink?” he asked, brow hiked high, eyes scanning me from head to toe. He licked his lips. “We don’t get many women like you in the shop.” His eyes slid over my designer outfit again, right down to my shoes then back. “You sure you wanna mark up that pretty skin of yours?”

Too late for that. “Well, I…” I refused to take a step back, even when my body demanded I did exactly that. Coming here had been a stupid idea. Maybe I could get someone to come to the guesthouse at the ranch? Were there tattoo artists that made house calls? I cleared my dry throat. “I was just…I, um…”

“Don’t be shy.” His smirk turned into a grin as he strode toward me.

“I’m not…I’m…”

His fingers curled around my elbow and he led me to the couch before I knew what was happening. “Someone will be with you in a bit.” He waved his hand at a stack of folders. “You can check our guys’ latest work in these.”

I stared at the stack, curiosity getting the better of me. “You’re not the tattooist?”

“Nah, apprentice. For now, I just do piercings.”

Relief loosened the knot in my belly. No way would I let this kid anywhere near me with a needle of any kind. “Right. I’ll take a look. Thank you.”

He winked but didn’t make a move to leave, staring at me intently again. He tilted his head to the side. “You’re from Springhaven, right?”

“Yes.”

His gaze grew intense, something shining through that made me shift in my seat. “Slumming it, huh?”

“No…I just…”

“Okay, let me guess.”

“Guess what?”

“What you’re here for.” His gaze slid up my calf to my thigh. “You want a butterfly inked on your hip? No, a heart?”

I frowned up at him and shook my head. “No…”

“A quote?” He tapped his lips with the tip of a finger. “Something about love? Forgiveness? Something inspirational perhaps?”

“No.”

His eyes were sparkling, glittering down at me. The smug little shit was making fun of me. He’d pegged me instantly as some stuck-up rich girl in the mood to do something reckless to piss off Daddy. I was used to being judged, being found less than. Well, I was done with that as well.

I straightened my spine and forced a smile to curve my lips. Subtle jabs, insults masked as something else weren’t new to me. My world was full of sharks, but I could bite back when I had to.

“Actually, you’re right,” I said. “I was thinking a quote might be nice. What do you think of”—I lifted my hand and pointed to my middle finger, curling down the ones either side—“Go screw yourself, right here?”

His eyes widened for a second, then he barked out a laugh. “Little Miss Springhaven’s got teeth.”

The curtain just down from the counter slid open right at that moment, and I twisted toward it. A woman walked out—though that seemed too plain a word for her. She was striking. With the way she was dressed, the way she swung her hips, the knowing smile on her lips, I knew instinctively no one would tell her what to do. This woman knew what she wanted, and I bet she went after it, too.

Jealousy spiked through me instantly.

I was staring at her, awestruck by her obvious confidence, the self-possession she exuded, when her eyes dropped to my hand and my middle finger. It was still saluting Mr. Blue Hair, who had been in front of me a second ago but now…wasn’t.

“Excuse me, bitch?” she said, charging in my direction. “You did not just flip me off.”

I quickly dropped my hand, shaking my head. “Oh, sorry! No. I wasn’t doing it to you, I was doing it to…” I glanced across the room and pointed to the little prick who was now leaning against the counter, still laughing. “Him.”

“Gloria,” an extremely deep, rough-as-gravel voice called behind her.

My gaze slid to the source of that bone-melting rumble.

Holy mother of God.