Loving a Bad Boy (Bad Boys Western Romance Book 4)

by Susan Arden

  “It isn’t. Head games don’t interest me.” She couldn’t really concentrate on the design this close, not when he kept staring down at her; or really, her mouth.

  “How do you know? Maybe you haven’t found the right partner. Som-m-e-r…” Drew’s bottomless rebellious eyes didn’t waver. They were set in an angular face framed by dark hair. He had smooth olive skin, a thick corded neck, and seemed to see everything. From his temperament to his striking features, he reminded Sommer of one of those sleek panthers she’d seen caged in the market place of Marrakesh. Calmly observing the world unless some idiot got too close.

  Exotic and enigmatic like those jungle cats and similarly Drew had a barely concealed side to him. Unfortunately, his secrets came off risqué bordering on lewd. The way he kept fondling Jen all the while peering over. It was as if he knew it bothered Sommer and it spurred him on. Obviously, Drew sought to push boundaries for the shock value.

  The prototype guy Jen gravitated toward. It was like he read her mind, and now had his tongue down Jen’s throat, his eyes lit and watching her. She turned away in disgust. Thank God, men like Drew didn’t show up in North Texas often.

  Her thoughts dissolved as a hand curled over her shoulder, and she ducked and turned, her face heating. Speak of the devil.

  “You gonna take care of me and my bandmate?” Drew said softly, staring at her until she broke eye contact with him without answering.

  His smug chuckle confirmed her first impression. Total jerk. He’d eat up a girl from top to bottom and walk away with an arrogant smirk—the sort that didn’t leave much to the imagination like the one he now sported.

  Jen snaked her fingers around his forearm, and laughed. “She sure is. Aren’t you Sommer?”

  “Err…” Her good sense prodded her to forfeit. This was the moment she should come up with an excuse. Anything. Drew seemed a little too condescending for her taste. She’d like to tell him to kiss off. A luxury she couldn’t afford.

  “Hey, you Sommer?” The blond Adonis sidled up to Drew. The two men were a blinding vision of light and dark.

  Maybe the other dude was more bearable. Two designs meant serious cash and her tip jar was empty. Besides she couldn’t head straight for the door and just leave her friends in their company.

  Ivy snapped her fingers in front of her eyes. “Girl, cat’s got your tongue? Oh man, I’ve never seen you at a loss for words.”

  Drew’s smile widened. “Vince, convince Sommer that she’ll enjoy an afternoon with us.”

  “A truth that’s self-evident.” Vince laughed, cocking his head, and his gaze swam over her just as hot and searing as the other rocker. The guys bumped fists, and that’s when she noticed Vince’s arm and the swirling black ink that started at his elbow, crawling over the skin of his bicep, disappeared inside his shirt sleeve, and then rose up one side of his neck.

  He wore his ash blond hair longer than most, all the way to his shoulders. Had to be the first thing girls noticed. Ivy rifled her fingers through his locks, drawing Sommer’s attention to the dark ink design on his neck, but she couldn’t get a good look in the dim bar lighting.

  “Little girl, he won’t bite you if that’s got you worried. He’s not like me,” Drew’s voice streamed insidiously and she scowled, refusing to react. Instead she glanced down and noticed the motorcycle boots on Vince’s wide spread feet.

  He stood with an easy confidence and leaned forward, overshadowing Sommer but formed a barrier, cutting her off from Drew. “Babe, we’re all about a good time. Can you handle two of us at once?”

  She gasped, flashing her eyes upward. Vince’s words were a provocative extension of his rocker persona. Pulsing and pregnant with innuendo. Then he laughed. “Those are lyrics to our newest song. Seriously, we’re just yanking your chain.”

  Ivy threw her arm around Sommer’s shoulders. “Told you she wasn’t like most girls. She’s been places. Same as you, pretty boy.”

  Vince nodded and his demeanor evolved from charismatic rocker into solemn, almost melancholy as if deliberating. “Sommer I want you to work your magic on my skin. I’ve got this tattoo… Shit, I dunno—should it be removed? Maybe you’ve got the skill to make it work. The short of it and minus the bullshit is, I need your help before going on tour.” Abruptly, he pulled down the collar of his shirt, displaying the design. The lines bled and in an instant, she understood the problem. The tattoo artist had packed the ink. A rocker with a bad tattoo wasn’t cool. He needed assistance and was searching for help. Her help.

  The door of combustible illusions slammed shut and in place, she absorbed where Vince was coming from. He was a player and accustomed to using his charm, but now he was asking for her help and didn’t see her as some small-town nobody who was inconsequential.

  “May I?” she asked, taking a step closer and dispelling the distance between them. For a second, they gazed at each other and she lifted her brow—the pierced one.

  “Sure, babe,” he said in a cocky tone, but he didn’t gift her with one of his killer smiles, just held her gaze and peered over at her as though curious on her next move.

  “Ivy, hold up Vince’s hair.”

  “You want to see his tat?”

  “No, she’s jealous. Vince is probably the only person who actually rivals her blond tresses, and she’s gonna cut his hair.” Jen laughed, hanging onto Drew.

  “Take a look and tell me what you think.” Vince met her gaze and without the stage persona, he waited on her opinion.

  Adrenaline dripped into her system. This was the doorway where her world quieted. A hush engulfed her and she could escape, diving into creation. A safe haven where no one touched her. No pain. No excuses. In the middle of the Diamond with cheering and jostling all around, Sommer ignored it all as she approached the canvas of her future creation. She took her work seriously. This wasn’t the usual way she set out to ink a client, but walk-ins were a reality. On the fly, she’d done enough tattoos to roll with short notice. Regardless of how she dealt with life if she had her druthers, she met with a client, and discussed their vision. She might revise the graphic design brought in by a client with a few sketches.

  Even though she regularly engaged in spontaneous decisions—her inked creations weren’t part of that impulsive framework. Probably a remnant from work as a graphic artist. A short stint, but long enough to ingrain a pattern of taking a client’s vision and making it a reality in the world of design.

  She touched Vince’s neck and felt his body tense for a second as she traced the edge of the tattoo. A phoenix design with flames, and a name. Not uncommon. “When did you get this done?”

  “About a year ago.”

  “Do you want to keep the name?”

  “Absolutely. My little sister. She passed.”

  “Did you have a specific design in mind?” Sommer asked, her chest pinching at the mention of his sister. Gone. And now he kept her memory out in the open.

  “Nothing ordinary,” he was quick to say. He appeared pensive, running his hand down the side of his face. “Something surreal but with that splatter effect. Your creation?”

  “I wish. Realistic trash polka. It’d work since it’s supposed to be a collage effect. You’ve got the fire and phoenix.” She envisioned a design she’d been working on. “What about feathers?”

  “Come again?” Drew said from behind her and this time, he’d dropped the playful tone. “You got something to say, cowgirl. Best just come out with it.”

  “I’m envisioning a badass archangel. Full regalia. Work the feathers into rows. Unless you have a design in mind, Drew.” She shot him a look over her shoulder.

  Vince tugged her wrist, jiggling her fingers. “Tell me more.”

  She swung around and described her design as succinctly as possible, given that they were in a bar and people were shouting all around them. She had to impress upon Vince, this wasn’t going to be easy. “But a design like this will take hours. Can you come by
early?”

  “You have a shop and a chair?” Vince asked.

  “Fully reclining and music.”

  “Give me the address and I’ll be there. Early. Around ten. Probably closer to eleven.”

  She frowned. “That’s not early.”

  He grinned, hugging Ivy to him. “It is in my neck of the woods.”

  Rory picked up his mug and turned around, searching for Sommer. Naw. He slammed his mug down on the bar, drawing the attention of Mike and another one of the guys from his crew. “What happened?” Mike asked, motioning to the bartender for another round.

  “Don’t include me,” Rory growled. “I’ll catch you tomorrow and we can settle up.”

  “Hell, you better give me until next Friday on what you just won,” Mike replied.

  Rory rapped his knuckles on the bar. “Cade, cash me out. Plus put my crew on my bill and tack on your tip.”

  “How much?”

  “Hell. Whatever you think is fair.”

  Cade grinned and shook his head. “Man, I could be headed off to Hawaii if that were true.”

  Rory arched a brow but didn’t reply as he focused on Sommer, her friends, and those two guys who seemed awfully close to her. The one dude in front of her didn’t look like an ass; it was the other dude. The one Jen was hanging on that kept eyeing Sommer’s body. What a dick. He’d seen plenty of guys doing that shit. They’d have one sure lay—a girl that they would use and discard—and then there was the one they really wanted.

  The muscles over Rory’s body tightened. Fuck it, he’d seen enough and walked a straight line from the bar to Sommer. “Baby, what are you up to?” He came right up behind her, making eye contact with Jen, and then the douchebag with the leering grin.

  “Sommer’s got two clients for tomorrow,” Jen said to him.

  Sommer looked over her shoulder and when their gazes connected, the furrow between her brows subsided and she smiled, holding out her hand to him. The sight of her—or rather the way she melded to him, yeah, that did it for him. Rory reached for her and this time, he didn’t stop with a squeeze to her waist. Hell. No. He wrapped his arms around her middle, drawing Sommer back until her soft curves teased him and he felt her stomach muscles quiver. Inhaling her scent, he rubbed his fingers over her waist and noticed Ivy watching him.

  “What’s going on?” he said over to her.

  “Not much. Game’s over,” she remarked. Ivy was standing there holding hands with the other dude.

  “Devils won. Not by much,” Jen chimed in.

  “Enough to win and a good start against a tough opponent,” he replied.

  “Sommer, introduce your future customers to your boyfriend,” Ivy said.

  The lights flashed on the stage and he felt Sommer lean back against him. “Rory,” she said, rotating in his arms and tilting her head. “Meet Vince—” Sommer paused, then she tensed as said, “And Drew.”

  He unwound one arm, but still held her against him as he fist bumped both guys, giving Vince a nod and Drew a long cold look. That idiot didn’t let up. “What’s doing?” he said, unwilling to be the first to look away.

  “Not enough,” Drew retorted, staring back at him without blinking.

  Fuck. Just what he needed. To be lured into a juvenile pissing match. “You here for the game tonight?”

  “Naw. Just waiting to do our set. You one of the local cowboy-folk from around here?” Drew inquired, his smirk getting more annoying.

  “Born and bred,” he returned.

  Even with his arms around Sommer, Drew stared harder at her ass, and a twinge of restlessness shot through Rory. Normally, he wasn’t the sort to be jealous around other guys. Possessive—no argument. He and Sommer were both the same in that regard. But most of the guys around here weren’t on their way to a new adventure, and that’s the undercurrent he got here. Sommer’s friends were all over these rockers with their tattoos, long hair, and probably edgy behavior. Maybe this was the type of guy that Sommer might fall for if she were unattached. On that thought, he stepped closer to Sommer, instinctively tightening his arms around her, and giving his back to Drew.

  “Later,” Jen said. “Hellhound is going to make some noise.”

  “Okay.” Sommer brought her mouth to his ear. “That’s the name of their band.” As she whispered, her hip brushed up against his dick, stealing his focus and sent a steady blood flow south of the border.

  Ivy waved, her dark eyes widening. “You two better not hide out over here. The action is that way.”

  “We’ll be right there.” Sommer rocked her hips to the point his stomach muscles locked. It wasn’t soon enough, when this small group broke up.

  They all traded a round of ‘See ya later’ with them before sauntering toward the stage.

  “Baby.” He held back from grinding against her, but damn his cock was harder than a hammer and ready to do some pounding. He had to concentrate on something other than her body and strained to speak sensibly. “So, you have some new business.”

  She leaned back into him. “I can’t believe it. Two new customers.”

  “Tattoos?” he asked, capturing her hips and holding onto her. He glanced down at the twin curves of her ass cheeks tormenting his dick.

  “Not much piercing ever gets done around here. Unless you’re willing to let me have at your nipples.”

  At the mention of nipples, his cock twitched unbearably. Brushing his mouth along her jaw, he kissed the side of her neck, imagining her tits and how he’d suck on each.

  “It was enough for you to get yours done.” His voice came out gravelly and he returned to kissing her neck.

  “What does it matter? You still haven’t seen them.” She sighed invitingly.

  He stiffened, so close to the edge, and dug his fingers into her hips. “Doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about them.”

  He didn’t need a visual of her tits right at this moment. Damn, what he’d do to have her naked and spread under him. Tonight would go down in history as the day he’d gotten tested. Taken to the mat and it still wasn’t over. Hell, maybe she had a point in taking a little pressure off. Oral sex wasn’t going too crazy. He’d imagined eating her for so long and having her mouth on his cock. It wasn’t like they were diving into a night of mindless sex.

  “Did the Devils’ win? With the spread you needed?”

  For a beat, he couldn’t talk sports or what he’d wagered—not with the image of Sommer giving him a blowjob hijacking his brainwaves. “Yep. I won a chunk of change. Almost feel bad for Mike.”

  “Don’t. He’ll collect scads from others. I don’t like it.” She tipped his hat up and when her gaze locked onto his, her serious expression changed into one of curiosity. “Cowboy, what on earth are you thinking?”

  Was he that transparent, or was the bulge in his jeans her primary clue? He pulled her a little closer toward him, ready to tell her about his idea of getting out of here. “’Bout us.”

  A power chord sounded from the stage, but she didn’t budge. She just stared up at him, her pupils dilated and searching his face.

  “Want to dance, cowboy?” Her entrancing golden gaze still locked with his, enticed him to agree to near about anything she proposed.

  “I owe you one.” He hauled her to him, unable to stop from grinding against her hips. “Then let’s get lost and let off some steam.”

  Chapter 6

  Rory twirled her on the dance floor. Once. Then he caught and brought her snug up against him, wrapping her within his arms that were more like twin bands of steel. She laid one of her hands along the brick wall of his chest and absorbed the steady thud of his heart under her fingertips. Opposite to her raging pulse, which still hadn’t settled from the suggestion he’d shared.

  Let’s get lost. Those three words could mean so much, but when coupled with let off some steam.

  “Were you being funny or are you serious?” Snaking her arms around his neck, she met his piercing
blue eyes. “Specifically, the part about getting lost.”

  “Never been more serious, sugar.”

  God! What must she look like, staring up at him? Wide-eyed and lips trembling. Well, this scared-rabbit combined with a deer-dumbfounded-by-headlights routine needed to stop, and fast. He might rethink the chink in his armor and she wasn’t about to let that happen. Heck, she wanted to pull him off the dance floor and out into the parking lot, stat!

  Except she had to get a few answers. First. “Umm. What happened to change your mind?”

  He inhaled deeply, and his chest rose and fell before he answered. “You’re right. Not all the way—but definitely you got my attention. I’m not about to just jump without looking. But I hear what you’re saying about taking our relationship deeper. I’m offering up a compromise.”

  “And you changed. A whole one-eighty. Just from what I said outside?”

  “Sommer, I want to marry you. And, if you’re serious and sincere about giving me an answer, then yes. I’m all for us making a decision to move forward and bypass a holding pattern for the next few years. It’s time.”

  “So, this is part of a plan. Sounds like a to-do list,” she returned.

  “You’re seeing my wanting to meet you halfway as wrong. Sugar, I can’t be damned if I do and damned if I don’t. Unless it’s all an excuse.”

  They stopped moving on the dance floor. In another standoff and neither refused to budge. Then Sommer noticed that the other couples were casting sidelong glances in their direction. Should she inform them that this was one more disagreement in a long line of disagreements? Or maybe, she should just come right out and make a general announcement that everyone should mind their own cotton-picking business.

  The sensible side of her should be overjoyed that he was finally coming around—listening to her and showing her that he respected her opinion. But the other part of her—the fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants side—was having a problem. That side disliked the taste of planning the when and where they’d finally go wild and have at it.