Page 24 of Truck Off

When I meet his gaze, I suck in a breath. He’s looking at me in complete awe. “That’s amazing, and I can totally see it. Do you enjoy working as a tattoo artist?”

“Love it. Well, except when one of my coworkers decides to be an asshole, but otherwise, yes. It’s great.”

His brow furrows. “What did your coworker do?”

I wave him off, wishing I never mentioned it. I’m not even sure why I did. I’m still pissed over Jane stealing my inks. “Just another artist helping herself to my inks without asking. I wasn’t prepared to buy more stock yet.”

“She stole from you?” His tone suggests he’s ready to go to battle for me, and I have to fight back a smile. I like how it feels to have someone ready to come to my defense.

I wave him off again. “It’s fine. The shop owner is taking care of it.”

I hope. Knowing Rob, he’s already moved on to pretending it never happened. The man hates dealing with conflict.

“You work at Country Ink, right?” he asks.

“Yeah, why?”

He shrugs. “No reason.”

The server arrives with our food, interrupting our conversation. Once we’re situated with our dinners and the server leaves, I use this opportunity to change the subject.

“So, tell me, what was it like growing up with a twin? You and Chase seem so different.”

He immediately starts coughing like he’s choking on something. He takes a big drink of water and clears his throat. He takes a moment before the coughing stops long enough for him to speak.

“Sorry about that. Must have choked on my air.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It happens sometimes.”

Once he gets his cough under control, we spend the rest of dinner talking about our families and childhoods in a positive light. There’s no mention of how my mom abandoned us or that my dad was a member of the local MC.

I don’t ask Christian about his issues with drugs—even though I want to—and he doesn’t bring it up. We keep the topics light and fun.

By the time we walk outside, our bellies are full of great food and we each learned more about the other person. Overall, I’d call the date a success.

He walks me over to my car, and we stop next to the driver’s side door.

“I had a great time tonight,” he says as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Me too. Thanks for dinner. That meal just might be the best meal I’ve ever eaten.”

A smoldering grin covers his face, and it nearly steals my breath. “I’m glad.”

I smile in return and lift my hand to his chest. “You’re different from what I expected.”

“Good different, I hope.” He takes a step closer, leaving just a few inches between us.

“Good. Definitely good.”

“Does that mean I’ll get a second date?” Mischief fills his expression.

“I don’t know. I guess you’ll have to ask me to find out.” I tease in return.

“Lina.” He takes my hand in his and links our fingers together. Then he lifts it to his lips and kisses each finger one-by-one. My heart instantly beats faster and pounds in my ears. “Will you go out with me again next weekend?”

I squeeze my eyes closed as I think about my upcoming schedule. If memory serves, I’m booked solid at the tattoo parlor. “I work next weekend, but I should be free the following weekend.”

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