Not very nice, Mr. Tyler?

You have no idea.

Still, that smile I flashed at him has lingered for much longer than it was supposed to. The unexpected chat with him in the elevator turned out to be a colorful speck of sprinkles on the top of this shit sundae of a Monday morning.

With the way Marcus and my brothers talked about him, I pictured Lance Tyler very differently. I thought he’d be an ass-kissing, pompous weasel of a man with about as much charm as a bullfrog. Someone like Jerry, truth be told.

Not tall, dark, and — admittedly — handsome. Not that it matters, in the end. Doesn’t change the fact that we’re enemies.

And speaking of Jerry — fuck Jerry. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of me seeing my father for a second. Just like my brothers, he shot it down without a moment’s thought. Okay, fine. Optics are important at a time like this but are people really going to think badly of a girl visiting her dad in jail?

And the smile is gone. Oof.

There are few things that can boost my spirits after a day like this. One of them is at work, kicking ass and taking names as the CEO of an internet company she built with her bare hands. Might not be a good idea to drop in, especially if she and Clive are meeting with HR today. Poor thing.

The other is probably also working and would most likely cease immediately if I poked my head in to vent and bitch but I also know she has an awful relationship with deadlines, so I really shouldn’t stop by.

And last, but certainly not least, is the needle and a little bit of ink.

I unbutton my suit jacket as I walk down the street toward the tattoo parlor. My family marque on my right shoulder isn’t complete yet — and it can’t be finished without my dad’s seal of approval — but I still like to keep it nice and vibrant for the day he gets out. I’ll drop in on Kenny and see if he has a spare time slot so he can finish up the finer details in the leaves surrounding the rose.

The entry bell jingles as I walk in. My ears twitch from that pleasant buzz of a needle from behind the curtain. It pauses and the curtain shifts as a man’s bald head pops out the side to see who walked in.

“Oh.” He smiles. “Hey, Trix.”

“Hey, Kenny,” I say. “How’s your schedule look today?”

“Slow. I can fit you in,” he says with a nod. “Just give me a minute to finish this up.”

I give him a wink. “You da man, Ken.”

He disappears behind the curtain, leaving me to wander around his little shop. I drop my purse on the counter, along with my jacket, and look up at the various drawings and examples of his work. Kenny’s an artist, in every sense of the word. I’d trust no one else to permanently alter my skin.

I wait for a few more minutes before I hear the curtain move again and Kenny dismisses his current customer. I turn toward the chair, my eyes still focused on the drawings for a second too long, and I run right into a shirtless man holding a leather jacket at his side.

“Hey, bitch, how ‘bout you watch where you’re going?” he snaps at me.

I turn my head up, ready to rip this prick a new asshole, but his boyish face twists up into a teasing grin.

“Robbie!” I gasp and smack his bare arm. “I almost put a hit out on you.”

He raises his hand and salutes me. It’s still bandaged from his alleged work-related injury but the new bandage is thinner and far less bulky than the original one. His chestnut bangs scratch the edge of his eyebrows as he chuckles at me.

“If you haven’t already, Trix, I doubt you ever will,” he says.

I release the tension in my jaw and laugh, instantly forgiving him. “Eh, you’re probably right.”

He gestures to my arm. “You finishing up your half-sleeve today?” he asks.

“Almost,” I say. “Just getting it touched up. My dad and I will finish it as soon as he gets out of the big house.”

“Nice.”

He tosses his jacket over the counter beside us and slowly slips his t-shirt back on. I take the moment to look down while I still can before he covers up.

Robbie Wheeler has always been nice to look at and I am a warm-blooded straight woman after all but the attraction — if any — ends there. My best friend’s husband is off-limits, divorced or not. Mostly though, I’ve never been able to see Robbie as anything other than a brother. Hell, I have brothers, but Robbie’s the only one whose loyalty and trust I never questioned for a second.

My eyes dance along the pure black symbols covering his right arm from his wrist all the way to his shoulder blades. I catch sight of the fresh bandage along his left ribs before it disappears beneath his shirt.

“What’d you get today?” I ask.

He shrugs as he reaches for his jacket. “Just a little something I started a few weeks ago.”

“Let me guess, it’s black?” I joke.

“I’m adding a bit of color, actually,” he says.

“Really?” I smile. “That’s new.”

“Turns out, some people can change.” He slides his jacket on and squints at me. “Hey, you okay?”

I nod. “Yeah, why?”

“You popped into a tattoo parlor without an appointment, Blossom,” he jokes. “You’re either pissed off in need of needle therapy or you’re a college chick on a bender.”

I snort. “Excellent assessment.” I lean back against the counter, dropping my smile. “Marcus.”

“The bodyguard with benefits?” he asks, settling beside me.

“The one and only.”

His voice hardens. “What’d he do?”

I sigh. “He asked me to marry him.”

“Don’t do it,” he says quickly. He pauses and tilts his head toward the floor. “Wow, that was quite the knee-jerk.”

I chuckle. “Mel really messed you up, huh?”

“You could say that.” His throat clears. “So, you gonna be Mrs. bodyguard with benefits now?”

“Hell no.” I shudder. “But everyone — and I mean everyone — seems hell-bent on this plan to force me to marry him and start popping out little mob babies and I don’t want that. That’s not me.”

“Definitely not you,” he agrees.

“He told me it was time for me to grow up,” I add. “Stop acting like a slut with my whore friends and do my duty to the family.”

“He said that?”

“Yeah.”

“Those exact words?”

“Yeah,” I repeat.

Robbie frowns and grabs my purse off the counter. “Let’s go,” he says.

I blink. “Where?”

“We’re gonna get out of here, you’re gonna point him out, and I’m gonna kick his ass.”

I laugh, grabbing his arm. “No, Robbie, you’re not.”

“You think I can’t?”

I flick the bandage on his palm. “I think you have one good hand.”

“And two quick feet.” He bounces twice on his ankles. “I can take this guy.”

“Robbie...” I raise a brow. “I love you but this guy is military. And very much armed. At all times.”

He scoffs. Unimpressed.

“And...” I say, throwing a pout. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything bad happened to you.”

His face softens. “Well, when you put it that way, I guess it can wait.” He leans against the counter with me again and rolls his right hand into what he can make of a fist. “But once this wound heals...”

“I’m sure he’ll never see you coming.”

Robbie nods. “That’s right.”

I smile. “Thanks, Rob.”

“Anything else going on?”

I breathe a thick laugh. “How much time you got?”

He winces. “That bad, huh?”

“Just...” I shake my head. “Got a whole lot on me all at once, is all.”

“Yeah, I know what that’s like.” He stands tall. “I don’t want to rush off during your pain but I have somewhere I need to...”

I wave a hand. “Go. I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. I’ll feel a lot better once I hear that needle, believe me.”

“Okay, but… you call me if you need to talk later, all right? My ear is always open.”

“I will. Thanks again.”

He nudges my chin as he starts toward the door. “See you around.”

I bite my lip in thought. “Hey, Robbie, hold up.” I reach for my purse. “What are you doing Friday night?”

“Uh...” He thinks for a second. “Whole lot of nothing. Why?”

I slide a rose golden ticket free from my purse. “Want to come to my family’s charity auction? I have an extra ticket.”

He chuckles. “Is this the thing where you sell yourself off for a dance every year?”

“It is.” I grin. “You bought me one year if I recall.”

“I did. Melanie was pissed.”

I scoff. “Well, yeah, you used her money.”

He takes the ticket and flicks it up and down. “I did it to make her jealous because she picked a fight with me a few hours before.”

“About what?”

“I don’t even remember anymore.” He gives a far-off stare. “We ended up having make-up sex beneath the table with the champagne fountain on it.”

My jaw drops. “I didn’t know about that.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear us, to be honest. We were not discreet.” He laughs. “Thank god you hired the swing band that year, that’s all I’m saying.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, you’re welcome to tag along this year again if you want. I’m happy to have you.”

He stares at the ticket in his hand, his face screwing up. “No, thanks,” he finally says, handing it back to me. “Black ties. Shiny shoes. Not really my affair.”

I keep the ticket in front of him. “Melanie will be there…”

His eyebrows instantly arch upward with temptation. After several seconds of internal turmoil, he snatches it from my fingers again.

“I’ll think about it,” he says.

My smile widens. “See you there, Rob.”

He raises his bandaged hand and salutes me as he nudges the door open and walks out.

“You ready, Trix?” Kenny asks from behind the curtain.

I happily slide toward the chair to sit down. “Yes, please.”