Tattooed Troublemaker - Elise Faber Page 0,23

you think you can give me orders?”

I spun, snagged the paper cup from her hands and took a gulp, sighing in pleasure for a heartbeat as the coffee hit my veins.

Of course, she’d take it simply, just a little milk and sugar.

“What the fuck?” She snatched it back. “Don’t you know how to ask first?”

“Nope.” I closed the drawer. “Youngest child. Always got what I wanted.”

Her lip curled. “Why is that not surprising?”

“Because it’s true that I’m a spoiled brat?” She sniffed, and I took a step toward her, watching her cheeks pinken. “What about you?” I asked softly. “My guess is you’re the oldest.”

She shook her head. “Only child.”

I grinned. “Ah.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” I said, taking another step toward her. I hadn’t slept all night, having stayed up to finish this drawing, unable to close my eyes without picturing her kneeling before me checking my thigh, without remembering that ass as she moved to the music, without thinking about kneeling before her and peeling those tight jeans down.

And now she had pigtails . . . that I was envisioning as handholds.

Fuck, this was stupid.

But fuck me, I couldn’t stop myself.

“Not nothing,” she snapped, holding her ground. “I’m not an idiot. I know when someone is making fun of me.”

Shit.

I tugged lightly at the end of one of those pigtails. “I’m not making fun of you,” I said. “Or no more than I’m making fun of myself and my spoiled ways. Sorry, if I hurt your feelings. My family—”

I broke off, guilt renting through me because I hadn’t seen much of my family since Lorna.

Her chin lifted.

My head dropped.

She exhaled shakily and the smell of coffee and coconut and pineapple filled the air around me, intoxicating my tired brain, making my cock harden and my hands clench into fists.

“It’s—” She shook her head. “I—I’m not used to that.” A beat. “The teasing.”

“Oh. Your family not much for teasing?”

“No, it—it’s just—” She sucked in and released another breath, chest rising and falling, shoulders straightening. “I’m an orphan.”

Cold doused me from head to toe.

“What?”

She pushed past me, heading for her tools in the corner of the room. “Nothing.” Charlie shook her head. “Forget it.” She lifted her hand as though she were going to shove it through her hair then stopped, dropping it to her side. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s too— Anyway, I’m . . . I just haven’t been feeling myself lately.”

“Charlie—”

“I’ve got work to do.” Her shoulders had lifted somewhere in the direction of her ears.

Work.

Yeah, she seemed about as good at hiding behind it as I was.

“You know—”

“No, I don’t know,” she muttered. “But I’m guessing you’re going to play knowledgeable man and tell me all about it.”

I snorted.

Probably not the reaction she was expecting based on the surprised glance she tossed over her shoulder, eyes wide, lips parted.

Such pretty lips.

Also, so not the thing I should be focused on at this point.

“I like the fire, babe,” I told her. “I like that you have spine. No one wants to be around some wet ass dish towel.”

Her lips twitched. “I don’t understand what you’re saying half the time, and I’m guessing that you don’t understand it either.”

I laughed. “I’m not pretending to understand everything that’s going on in my fucked-up brain. This last year has been . . . tough in a lot of ways. But”—I stepped close enough that I could crouch down next to her. Near enough to smell her, but just out of reach—“it’s not anything like losing both parents.”

“It’s too—” Her eyes dropped to her hands. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

I ignored that. I was glad she’d told me. I wouldn’t begin to say it explained her, because Charlie was a puzzle—a tough, armored, funny, beautiful puzzle—and now I knew a little bit of where that armor came from. It had been a necessary share.

“How old were you, baby?” I asked softly.

Silence.

Then, “Eleven.”

I waited.

“We were in an accident.” She exhaled. “Driving back from a fair. We’d gone for my birthday.” Her teeth nibbled at the corner of her mouth. “My dad had won me this huge pink bear. It had a heart—” She touched her chest as though she were the one with the heart on the outside. “I—I remember how it felt prickly beneath my cheek when I curled up on it for the ride home.” She swallowed then continued in nearly a whisper. “My mom had buckled it into the middle seat so I could reach it.”

Her words