Page 1 of Sass

CHAPTERONE

Kip

I spunthe wheel on my cherry-red Mini Cooper and smiled as it spat gravel and slid into the free parking space at the back of Flare, disturbing the grey early morning calm of the city. I cut the engine and frowned at Rhys’s van parked alongside.Damn.I should’ve guessed he’d be in early. A glance at the lights in the flat above Flare confirmed Hunter and Alec were also awake and moving about.Well, shit.There went my chance of slipping in unseen.

The three of them, along with Beck, were flying to New York that afternoon to scope out the Big Apple’s spring fashion week in preparation for Rhys’s formal invitation to the next one as a spotlight designer. Alec was walking for Berlini and a few other labels, and Hunter was shooting for Vanity Fair. Following the show, those two were off to London and Paris for more work, while Rhys and Beck were staying in New York for a much-needed vacation. I’d have given my left ball to join in the fun, but someone had to manage the store. And since Rhys had promised I’d be his assistant for the fall show, I wasn’t pouting too hard.

I grabbed my satchel and eased the car door open just enough to squeeze out without circumcising myself. “For fuck’s sake, could you spare the room?” I grumbled, firing a glare at Leon’s impressive Harley pulled just far enough to the side to let Delilah scrape by.

Not that I had a damn thing to complain about. As the leaseholders, Leon and Rhys had dibs on the only two parking spaces out back, and Leon didn’t have to make room for me at all. The fucker had just gone and done it, offering the space to me as soon as he’d learned I had a car that I actually gave two shits about. I should be grateful, right? Yeah, not so much. I hated the generous gesture with the heat of a thousand suns because it made me feel somehow beholden to him, something that rankled me like gorse up my arse.

Petty?

Abso-fucking-lutely. But I loved my little car, and I wasn’t about to turn my nose up at anything that kept it safe and off the road. I’d lusted over Leon from the first moment I’d seen him and jerked off to images of him on his knees for me far more times than I cared to admit. But that didn’t mean I liked the guy.

I sighed and pressed the fob to lock Delilah before allowing myself a final drool over what I knew lay under that bike cover—Leon’s sexy metal 883 Sportster Iron. The fact I happened to know the name of the model came from a time in my life I tried to forget.

Not that I was about to give Leon the slightest indication that I knewanythingabout the sexy machines or that I could actually ride a motorbike. It was way too much fun watching his eyes spin in his head when I repeatedly called it a nice little Honda. Wouldn’t want Mr Sanctimonious thinking I was remotely interested in whatever he rode, even if I fantasised about him ridingmemore times than was healthy for... let’s be honest...anyone.

But knowing it sat there like a dangerous cat alongside my cute-as-fuck, I-dare-you-to-race-me Mini, kind of said all there was to say about the difference between me and Leon. Fast, flirty, and underestimated, versus arrogant, grunty, and all show. Not that I was averse to a little grunt. Just saying.

I slid the strap of my satchel onto my shoulder, chanced a look at the softly glowing windows above The Tattoo House, and sighed. Regardless of how annoying the man was, it was hard not to feel sorry for Leon stuck up there with not much more than a mattress, chair, television, and a lot of dust. He’d been camping above his business for two weeks, waiting on settlement so he could move into his newly purchased house, and when Rhys and I had recently taken a look at the empty, unrenovated space with the brilliant idea of making it into Rhys’s studio, let’s just say comfortable wasn’t exactly the word that sprang to mind.

I heaved another hungover sigh, because Monday was a cruel bitch after a last-minute Sunday swipe right had taken a sharp detour into tequila shots and an entire album of Pink until one in the morning.

And whose fault is that?

A quick check in the Mini’s side mirror was a mistake. I winced.Dammit.The wholepanda-eye thing hadn’t improved, and I should’ve gone with a fuckton more makeup. I should at leastlookcompetent. Then maybe Rhys wouldn’t fret too hard about leaving his precious store in my hands while he took a much-deserved break. It was the least I could do for him.

The factIwasactually more than a little panicked at the idea myself—note aforementioned ill-advised shots and way-too-loud Pink interlude—was beside the point. Not to mention the hook-up left a fair bit to be desired as well, but the less said about that the better.

But now Rhys had beaten me into work—something he’d rarely done ever since he’d moved in with Beck, everyone’s favourite lumbersexual poetry professor—and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was more worried about leaving me in charge than he’d let on. It was a thought that did little to appease my own apprehension.

I sighed and donned my Oliver People sunglasses, becausenobodylooked bad in those puppies, and hoped the dark circles under my eyes would fade under the shop fluorescents.

I patted Delilah on her chequerboard roof. “Behave yourself with the sexy Harley. No tiny trike surprises, got it?”

I checked my phone and saw it was barely eight, which gave me a little time. I skirted the back entrance to Flare and headed up the alley instead. Pastries and coffee would afford some distraction from my obvious sorry state, plus it would give me some time to stop being pissed at the fact I’d yet again let the tattooist get under my skin. I snorted at the pun, but there was far too much truth in it.

Leon didn’t even have to be in the room to drive me crazy, and how the fuck did he even do that? I didn’t let people... I didn’t letmentake up space in my head, ever. But the minute Leon walked through the front door of Flare in my first week on the job, my balls melted right through my new pair of Reiss puppytooth slacks, and nothing had been the same ever since.

Irritating as he was, Leon Steadman was the hottest damn thing I’d ever seen. Six-foot-six inches of fantasy-inspired, tattooed deliciousness. Waves of strawberry-blond hair tied back in a messy tail; a charming and extremely lickable spray of freckles across a slightly crooked nose; and a pair of light grey eyes that drilled right through me with some serious heat that set my knees to wobbling—and I didn’t wobble... for anyone. That should’ve been enough warning right there.

So yes, Leon was hot, ridiculously and annoyingly so, at least to me. But hot in no way made up for the arrogant, self-righteous, judgemental son of a bitch who’d revealed himself at a mutual friend’s party about a month later and ripped the scales from my eyes.

Was I being a whiny prick simply because Leon turned me down flat when I’d asked if he fancied going somewhere quieter to get... better acquainted? Yes. Yes, I was. Because it wasn’t the fact Leon said no. It was the fact that his rebuff came with a steaming shitty side-order of disrespect, like my slutty self wasn’t good enough for him.

“Sorry, not interested.” Leon smiled down at me.

“Are you sure about that?” I winked, pressing my luck, because, damn, he looked scorching hot, dressed in all black with a short-sleeved T-shirt that showed off his amazing ink, along with some impressive biceps. Half the partygoers were eyeing him up, men and women. Then again, I knew I didn’t look too shabby myself, and I’d sunk one or four gins for courage, so what the hell. Go big or go home, right?

I went up on my toes and leaned in. “I think we’d be fucking hot together. Don’t you want to find out?”

He stepped back, his expression unreadable. “Still not interested.”

Huh. I frowned. It wasn’t like no one ever turned me down, but I’d seen the way he’d been watching me all night. He wanted me. “You don’t like sex?” I offered a teasing smile.

He looked at me for a long minute, like he was deciding something. “Yes, I like sex, Christopher. Although if I didn’t, I’m not sure I’d appreciate the implication behind the question from someone I hardly know.”

---