Singe (Men of Inked Heatwave #8) - Chelle Bliss Page 0,10

really none of my business, and unless she’s offering the information, I’m not asking.

Me: You do. Night, Arlo. See you tomorrow.

Arlo: Night.

I don’t even have a beer in my hand when the messages start rolling in.

Victoria: You’re an asshole.

I can’t argue with her, and I don’t want to. She wants to engage because to Victoria, any attention is good attention. I silence her texts, wanting to leave her in the past instead of letting her invade my future.

Tamara: Mello met a chick.

Gigi: What?

Lily: Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Who?

Rebel: For real?

Jo: Ooooh. This is going to get good.

I grunt, collapsing into my favorite chair, beer between my legs, watching their nonsense in our group chat fill my screen.

Mammoth: Princess, don’t start bullshit where there isn’t any bullshit.

Tamara: You fixing her car?

Mammoth: Yes.

Tamara: …

Me: She’s no one to me. She was broken down, and I helped. What was I supposed to do?

Gigi: Hmmm. Solid point.

Lily: True.

Rebel: Is she pretty?

Me: What’s that matter?

Jo: That’s a yes!

Tamara: It’s so a yes.

Me: It’s not a yes. I’m asking why it matters.

Gigi: Well, would you help someone who wasn’t pretty?

Me: I’d help anyone. Looks don’t matter when there’s a person in need.

Rebel: Mmm-hmm.

Gigi: You seeing her again?

Me: I’m giving her a ride to the shop tomorrow.

Tamara: I’ll make sure I’m in the office tomorrow.

Gigi: I think we should all go.

Me: No. Absolutely not. You guys need to stop. She’s a stranger, and I’m never going to see her again.

Rebel: She’s ugly, then.

Me: No, she’s not, but she’s not my type.

Lily: You have a type besides ready, willing, and able?

Pike: Why are you ladies ragging on him for helping someone? If he says he’s not going to see her again, he’s not going to see her again.

Jett: Does he see any of them again?

Rocco: Good point, Jett.

Me: You’re all assholes.

Nick: Birds of a feather.

Me: Listen, she’s a nice girl. She’s the type to catch feelings, and she doesn’t need or want a guy like me in her life.

Tamara: Ding. Ding. Ding. She’s hot.

Lily: Yep. 100%.

Gigi: Snap.

Rebel: Mello’s never going to settle down.

Rocco: Never say never, babe. Look at me. I’ve never been happier, but that was because I saw you again.

Rebel: I think a trip to the shop is in order for all of us tomorrow.

Me: Don’t you dare.

Gigi: How are you going to stop us?

Me: Someone has to run Inked.

Gigi: Tomorrow’s our late day. We don’t open until two, so there’s plenty of time to go to the shop and make it to Inked to prep.

Me: You’re ridiculous.

Gigi: Who’s with me?

Lily: I’m in.

Jo: I’ll be there.

Tamara: Of course, I’ll be there.

Rebel: Count me in.

Me: You all seriously need to get a life.

Gigi: We have one, but it’s time for you to get one.

Me: I have a very nice life.

Tamara: You have to settle down at some point.

Me: Says who?

Lily: Says your future children.

I grimace as images of family life flash before my eyes. Someday, I want a family, but that day isn’t today.

Me: Not yet. I’m enjoying life too much.

Mammoth: You think you’re enjoying life, but there’s something better about having that one person to be by your side and then the babies.

Me: Y’all are nuts. I’m going to sleep.

Jo: It’s not even ten, buddy. You’re old AF but just haven’t come to terms with it.

Me: I’m not old, Jo. I’m tired, and obviously tomorrow’s going to be a long, long, long day.

Rebel: Night. We’re going to stay here and talk about you.

Gigi: Well, duh.

Me: I wouldn’t expect anything less.

Jo: You have the girl’s name?

Tamara: I can get it off her car’s registration.

Me: Stop. Go to bed. Spend time with your men. Do something other than worry about my life.

Rebel: Stop being a shit in the pants. Your bed is calling you, Mello. Night, brother.

Rocco: They aren’t going to stop. Might as well ignore them.

Gigi: Night. See you tomorrow.

4

Arlo’s waiting in her driveway when I pull in, looking hotter than she has the two previous times I’ve seen her.

Her hair is pulled up in a tight bun, exposing her long, slender neck. She’s wearing a crisp white button-down blouse, exposing just a hint of cleavage. The shirt is tucked into a pair of black pants that end near her ankles, showing off a sexy pair of black stilettos with a few toes peeking out at the end.

“Fuck,” I mutter, gripping the steering wheel. When my asshole cousins get a look at her at the shop, they’ll be all up my shit.

I’m out of my Challenger before she