Page 2 of The First Spark

Inallmy years here, I’ve never heard a negative word spoken against me, my artists, or my tattoo parlor—until Oriana arrived. Apparently, all she saw was a bunch of burly men covered in ink and piercings, andthatwas enough to sway her opinion.

Our introduction was the antithesis of a meet cute. It was a meet-hate instigated by Ms. Tight Ass herself when she marched into my shop, complaining about the noise.

I hadn’t even had a chance to say hello, but that didn’t stop Oriana from reading me the riot act. All I could do was stare at this tiny woman, her hands waving wildly, as she insinuated we were showing her patrons a total lack of respect by playing our music at an undesirable level.

Look, I admit that before she moved in, we blasted the radio after hours. Our clients didn’t mind and there were no neighbors to complain.

But the day Oriana’s store opened, I informed my employees to cut the volume to a respectable level.

See? I’m a nice guy. I strive for everyone to work together.

Seems that wasn’t enough for our new resident pain in the ass.

Not by a long shot.

Oriana wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise during her onslaught, but when she threatened me with the town’s noise ordinance, I had to laugh.

The chief of police is not only one of my best clients, but he’s also a lifelong friend. When Igentlymentioned this fact, Oriana’s eyes widened, but she refused to back down an inch.

Turns out, she didn’t care if my lifelong buddy was the King of England.

Instead, she segued to her next complaint, andthisone garnered my full attention.

She wagged her finger under my nose—quite a feat, considering the height difference—and spat out that despite my reputation for being a nice person in Sparkwood, it was all bullshit. She knew what I’d said about her. It wasn’t appreciated, and it would most definitely be remembered. If I wanted to play hardball, she was ready.

Then she turned and left the parlor, her petulant pout intact.

Thatwas my introduction to Oriana Thorne. Let me tell you, after that, she was my new nemesis.

I don’t take kindly to threats or insinuations that me and my guys are delinquents. She didn’t say it was because our skin was inked and pierced, but come on, it’s not an enormous leap.

There will always be people who judge you based on their misconceptions. I just never thought it would be my new work neighbor. Hell, she knew what type of establishment Black Lotus was when she rented the adjacent shop. Did she think we sat around sipping tea and eating crumpets?

Normally, I keep my temper shelved. At well over six feet, I’m a big guy. I’m intimidating without ever opening my mouth. But Oriana started this war, and I was damn certain to finish it.

She expected a menace to society. I’d show her one.

Five minutes later, I stormed into her bookstore, my black boots echoing on the wood floor, my hands clenched into fists.

No, I wasn’t going to hit her. I’m notthatkind of guy, and any man who is needs to be shot. But she had riled my temper, and I was determined to return the favor.

And I did, right in front of several of her patrons.

Did I feel vindicated berating a tiny woman who’s half my size?

Damn right I did. She started it with her baseless accusations about me and my staff.

Fine, I also felt terrible, because, despite Oriana’s belief otherwise, I care what people think of me. I’ve never experienced such a level of loathing from a total stranger.

Not once in all of my thirty-eight years.

Safe to say, after our blowout, there was no chance we’d be going for a welcome to the neighborhood cocktail.

In fact, I haven’t heard a peep from ‘Little Miss Stick Up Her Ass’ in six months.

Not one word since that day.

We practice avoidance, and after all this time, we’re damn good at it, too. On the off chance we’re ever in the same space, there is no cordial nod or wave hello.

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