Tattooed Troublemaker - Elise Faber Page 0,4

that was the moment I knew she felt it, too. Because I’d been trying to save my own self-control by not allowing her to fall to her knees in front of me again—and no, at that moment, I didn’t think to just shift to the side to prevent it. I didn’t have enough blood left in my brain to be that rational. However, while I stopped Charlie from kneeling in front of me, I’d inadvertently reversed our positions.

And, frankly, it was a hell of a position to be in.

Especially, when she was glancing down at me with hooded eyes.

I wrapped my fingers around the metal handle and stood with the toolbox in my hand. Charlie’s breathing hitched. “You’ve . . . um . . . got . . .” Her fingers brushed my temple, and she held up a piece of lint.

My pulse picked up, that smallest bit of contact a lightning rod through my body.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

Her lips parted. “S-sure.”

But neither of us moved.

Instead, I stared into those pretty blue eyes and imagined how they’d darken if I kissed her, how her mouth would feel against mine, how soft her skin would be, how her scent would wrap around us both—

“Charlie!”

In unison, we both whipped to face the voice in the hall. Tig was walking in, wearing a much nicer shirt than I’d seen him leave the tattoo parlor in earlier. Delia was a few strides behind him, body encased in a killer dress, a worried expression on her face.

I clenched my free hand into a fist, opened my mouth, and—

“Hey,” Charlie said, slipping past me and closing the distance between us and Tig. “That pipe decided to give way a little sooner than either of us expected, huh?” Her voice was relaxed, no sign of the heat and sexual tension I was feeling. So, I was either imagining things, or she was just really good at throwing a mask up and deflecting.

For obvious reasons, I preferred to believe the second.

“Good thing Garret was here,” Tig said, lifting his chin in my direction. “He saved us from coming in tomorrow to a huge mess.”

“Dumb luck.” I shrugged. “For once, I’m glad I forgot my cell at my station.”

Tig grinned. “I’ll take lucky over good any day.”

“So says the tattoo artist,” Charlie quipped. “Maybe not what a prospective client wants to hear.”

Delia scoffed. “Yeah, right. You’d never deface that virgin skin with a tattoo from Tig.”

Charlie laughed.

“Rude,” Tig said, tugging on the end of Charlie’s ponytail. “You know I’ll wear you down one of these days.” Charlie just shook her head with a smile. “And you”—narrowed eyes at the woman he loved—“that was—”

Delia kissed Tig on the cheek. “You know I love you.”

Slice.

Fuck. I’d had that once—or thought I had, anyway—and now I had . . . a boner and an empty bed.

Cool.

Cheers to happy memories.

Stifling a sigh since I was suddenly feeling way too emo for my own good, I slipped by the happy couple and started picking up the remaining wet towels. I’d had a year to get over this, a year to move on with my life and not be so fucking pathetic.

“Oh,” Delia said, reaching out as though to stop me. “Garret, you don’t have—”

“Hush,” I ordered and despite my inner cheerleading, the memory of Lorna twice in one night was too much for any sane man. Instead of positive, I felt miserable. “Sort stuff out with Charlie. I got this, and then I’m going to bed.”

“Garret—” Charlie said.

“Thanks for saving the day,” I told her then I waved to the trio. “See you guys around.”

I scooped up the last couple of towels and headed upstairs.

I now had a shit-ton of laundry to do.

Good times.

Yup. That sounded exactly like my life.

Three

Charlie

Pipes.

I dreamed about pipes.

Well, a certain green-eyed male’s pipes—cough, pipe—and how it would feel sliding inside—

Had I mentioned I had a type?

Tall, built, asshole—

Though he’d apologized and sort of redeemed himself, so maybe semi-asshole was a more apt description.

Pipes.

As in, I needed to focus on the ones in front of me so I could wrap up this job before heading back over to Tig’s next week. This job was a fairly simple one, roughing in a few bathrooms, a kitchen, and a laundry room. The walls were open, it was new construction, and there was plenty of space for me to work. Plus, because the job was at this stage—mid-build—it was clean.

And yes, I considered normal construction dust and man sweat clean.

It was leaps and bounds