Page 6 of The Bad Boy's Good Girl

So close. The two words echoed in Bronx’s brain as he made his way back to B&B Solutions. Tasting Nola again had been a mistake. A big fat fucking mistake because now that he’d gotten her in his arms again, swept his tongue inside her sweet succulent mouth, he wanted more. Dammit he wanted it all, he could admit that much to himself. One night hadn’t been enough but she wasn’t having it.

“I’m not signing up to be another one of your weeklies,” she’d told him with so much conviction he couldn’t help but believe it.

“Excuse me?” He’d been so taken aback by her words, he hadn’t known what to say.

“You heard me. I have no interest in being one of the women you screw and discard. At least, not again.”

That’s what her words said but he saw the pulse fluttering furiously at the base of her throat. The dark forest green of her normally moss green eyes said she was as turned on as he was. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Again. Yet she’d been the one to kick him out. Sick bastard that he was, that only turned him on even more because he knew Nola hadn’t been playing hard to get. She didn’t play games. Didn’t want to be got, at least not by Bronx. Fuck that, she’s not the only woman in town.

Bronx had his pick of women, always had. With his looks and bad boy alpha personality, women had always flocked to him. Now that he had billions in the bank, they threw themselves at him nonstop. And he took what they were offering without offering any more than a few hours of good hard fucking. With that in mind, he sat in his office overlooking Serendipity Park and the fountain in the center that he and Brooks had donated last Christmas. There were plenty of women in what Brooks called his big black book of booty and he could call up any one of them and get his needs met.

He scrolled through this phone and stopped at Marissa who was always up for a good time but she’d been dropping hints about spending more time together. Sylvia was a wildcat in the sack, always willing to try new things but damn, the swimsuit model was in Australia for a photo shoot. He flipped through more women and found more excuses until he was so disgusted with himself, he shoved the phone back in his pocket and joined the tournament.

“How’s it going, boys?” He strolled into the large media room with stations set up all around it, a big smile plastered on his face as everyone greeted him. Losing himself in his new game for a few hours was just what he needed. Hell, video games had saved his life, gave him something to do instead of joining a gang or fighting for cash when foster care had become too much. The multi-verse game that would hit the shelves in time for Christmas had been the brain child of him and the twin he’d been recently reunited with after too many years apart. They’d spent late nights in Brooks’ dorm room perfecting code and graphics, parting when the sun came up so Brooks could attend class and Bronx could go to work. Now, more than a decade later, their baby was ready for the world to see.

“Yo Boss, you with us man?”

Bronx blinked, coming back to the present as three sets of worried eyes focused on him. “What? Yeah, shit, I just spaced out.” Bronx held up his controller looking at the group of newbies eager to get their shot at the new game. “A thousand bucks if you take at least third place on my behalf.” He knew the challenge made them all eager but only the most confident would step forward and take the risk they might lose under the boss’ name.

“I’ll take that chance.” Nick Porter stepped forward and pushed his black hipster glasses up on his nose because those were not glasses for fashion. Confident in his skills as a gamer and a programmer, Nick was no hipster. “Third or better, right?”

Bronx nodded. “I’ll double it if you come in first, and let you create a bonus universe for the game.”

Nick’s grin came slow and confident. “Cool. No worries, Boss.”

Bronx wasn’t worried at all. The kid had the skills and with a bit more experience he would become one of their best designers, but right now they had more talent than they needed. “Oh, I’m not worried. Not at all,” he threw over his shoulder as he left the game room and made his way back to his office. To stare out the window and at the small town park, so different than where he’d spent most of his childhood.

Happy fucking Thanksgiving.

* * *

Black Friday normally soothed Nola. She and Grammie used to get up before the sun to have breakfast and dress comfortably, prepare to spend all day hitting up different malls in search of the best deals. Nola preferred to do her shopping online and as Grammie’s health worsened they would often compete to see who could find the most outrageous gifts. Today, she had gone simply because she’d needed something to make her feel connected to the woman who’d cared for her, kissed her boo boos and made everything in the world feel all right for most of her life.

Her heart hadn’t been all that into it and retail therapy had done very little to lighten her heavy heart,though she had finished up her shopping and bought a few much-neededitems. But there were too many people and she’d left to head back to Temptation, enjoying the much quieter street of her hometown.

Most shops were busy, doing a brisk business on the biggest shopping day of the year. She was happy for them but she was all shopped out so she took a turn off the main drag for some window shopping. After picking up a scrapbook for the baby, she found a newer shop she’d never seen before and pulled open the door.

“We’re closed,” a female voice called out.

“Sorry. I just wanted to see what this was,” she said and turned back towards the door.

“It’s okay, have a look around.” The woman was tall with long jet black hair, tipped with hot pink and big silver eyes that made her look magical.

“I’m Nola,” she extended her hand to the woman who took it, in a firm capable grip. “What is this place?”

“A tattoo shop. You don’t strike me as the tattoo type.”

Nola laughed. “Normally I’m not but I’m looking at this art and I’d like to get something to honor my grandmother. She died a few months ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. My grandmother was my favorite person in the world and she died when I was nineteen.” Her eyes looked sad for a moment but quickly cleared. “I’m Max, by the way.”

“Good to meet you, Max. Now tell me what would you recommend to honor a feisty old southern woman who lived in California most of her life but still made moonshine?”

“I have the perfect thing.” Max pulled out a notepad and began to sketch while Nola looked around, asking questions.

“How does one become a tattoo artist?”

“Bad life choices?” Her mischievous smile was contagious.

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