“I’m not pissed at you.”

“Well…just hang out with me later, then. We don’t even have to talk about this other crap. You just…you look like you could use some laughs, and if there’s anything I’m good for, it’s a laugh.”

She chuckled at that.

“See? You’re laughing already.”

She just looked at him.

“Oh, come on. You want to, I can tell. You should go with that gut instinct. It usually doesn’t steer you wrong.”

Her eyes flashed up at him with just the slightest, most enticing twinkle of humor. “Maybe it’s my gut instinct telling me not to.”

“Then f**k gut instinct. Meet up with me anyway.”

“Look, I’ll think about it.”

“Think about it?” He was probably way off base, but given her little Mona Lisa smile, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was f**king with him right back. So he rushed on. “Tell you what. I’ll probably leave around eleven or so. If you want to hang out, just come by the parlor. If you don’t, well, I’ll never forgive you, but I’ll have my answer without putting you on the spot. Deal?”

She gave a little toss of her head, flicking the long lazy curl that had been resting on her chest back behind her shoulder. “Okay. That’s a deal.”

As she left, sending him one last smile before the door shut behind her, he wanted to fall down on his knees in gratitude that he never listened to that little f**king voice.

Chapter Two

Macy Rodgers chewed her thumbnail and stared at the time on her radio display. She sat in her Acadia in the Dermamania parking lot, the last place on God’s green earth she needed to be.

She didn’t even know this guy’s name. Now that she had agreed to meet up with him—and she had, since she’d shown up—it was going to seem really awkward when she had to ask.

The time was 10:43. She was early, even. But she hadn’t wanted to risk him leaving work ahead of time and thinking she’d blown him off. As indecisive as she’d pretended to be about this whole thing, she’d never had any intention of not showing. It didn’t make sense, but from the time he’d invited her, she’d wanted to. She’d wanted to really, really bad.

Taking a shaky breath, she stared at the building until the lights shining through the windows began to blur in her vision. When they suddenly snapped off, she jumped, her heart lurching into her throat. If the lone black car in the parking lot was any indication, he was in there all by himself.

Maybe she should’ve gone in to meet him—

Too late. The side door opened, and she watched as he came out and locked it behind him.

So not her type. Seeing him now in the dim light from the overhead lamps, it struck her again. But what struck her more—and this had been true the very first time she saw him in Dermamania with Candace—was his broad shoulders. That mouth. Though she couldn’t see it from her angle right now, she could never forget it. Sitting in the waiting area of the parlor while Candace had gotten her first tattoo from Brian, Macy had stared at this guy’s mouth and thought it could eat her alive. Something about him made her weak in the knees, despite the shaved head and tattoos and piercings and the crass way he spoke. She’d never really been attracted to any of those four things in her entire life.

But here she was.

Meeting him. Alone. At night. A wild, party-hungry tattoo artist. The very thing she’d been trying to warn her best friend away from.

Hell, her hypocrisy alone should’ve been reason enough for her to stay at home. How could Macy tell Candace to run from a guy like Brian when she was meeting his friend in the dead of night?

He turned and saw her, a grin breaking over his face, and it was too late for any second thoughts. If he looked good when he was brooding or concentrating, he looked twice as good when he smiled. Hot. Dangerous. Full of mischief. Those dark brows pulled low over equally dark eyes that crinkled at the corners. He trotted over to her and she rolled down her window.

“You came,” he said simply, not losing that smile.

Yes, hopefully I will.

The thought came from nowhere, and everywhere, and she hoped her physical response to it didn’t show all over her face. A slow burn began in all the places that didn’t need to burn. Not now. Not for him.

“I wi—I mean, I did. I’m here. Looks like I’m here.” Shit! She took a breath, drew it deep down into her lungs and tried not to show the effort it cost her.

What the hell was it about him? The sexiest cowboy she’d ever met—and she’d met plenty—had never left her this tongue-tied.

Probably because she was in her element with guys like that. She was in her world. With him—whoever he was—she was out on Neptune. Starving for oxygen and a coherent thought where there was none to be found.

This had been a bad idea. She even opened her mouth to say so, but he was opening her car door. “Come on.”

“Um, where?”

He shrugged those broad shoulders. “I don’t know. Don’t care. We can go for a ride if you like. Or we can go inside, or we can just sit out here and talk.”

Going inside wasn’t her favorite of the options; the tattoo parlor freaked her out. She decided right then, before this went any further, that she needed to bite the bullet. “I’m sorry, but…what is your name?”

The grin came back. “Call me Ghost.”

“Ghost?”

“You don’t like it?”

“Well…I guess I just expected a…real name?”

“How conventional.” He jerked his head toward the black car parked a few spaces away. “You coming out? Or you wanna do something else?”

“Just a second.” She took a moment to roll up her window and grab her purse, then she slid out of her safe zone and stood with him in the night. For a moment, the only sound was the faint buzz of the streetlights overhead.

What would they even talk about? She scuffed her boot on the asphalt and shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. She’d changed clothes before coming here, opting for jeans and a long-sleeve sparkly tee with her cowboy boots. Something to remind her of who she was and, well, something not quite so revealing. “There’s nothing much to do at this time of night on a Sunday, is there?”

He chuckled. “You must not go to the right places.”

“Well…I’m not really in the mood for shenanigans.”

“Shenanigans. I like that.” He grabbed her hand. His was big and warm and she clasped it back without a second thought. “Let me introduce you to my pride and joy.”

The car. Oh, yeah, she could see how it would be. A GTO, sleek and shiny black, practically glistened under the lights. “I love it. What year?”

“’69.”

She shot him a glance only to see him biting down on a grin. “Let me guess. Your favorite number.”

“Macy!” he said with mock offense.

“Come on. You were dying to say it.”

“We practically just met, and you already think you know me so well.” He popped open the passenger door and gestured inside with a sweep of his arm, that smile promising all sorts of wicked adventures. “Hop in. I’ll show you what she can do.”