Page 39 of Cold Hard Truth

“Can I help you?”

I spin around to find the blond man standing directly in my path.

His eyebrows pinch when I jump, but he doesn’t flinch, holding the broom and staring down at me.

“Um—no,” I stumble. “I was just looking around.”

He juts his chin up to the sign in the window. “We’re closed.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I spot the neon closed sign.

“Sorry.” I bite my lip, knowing I can’t leave until the person who texted me gets here. “Do you mind if I just stick around for a minute and wait out the rain? I promise not to bother you while you finish cleaning up.”

His eyes drag down my body, where I’m already soaking. And I’m sure he’s wondering why I’d care about the rain when I was standing in it moments ago, letting it wash over me. But thankfully, he nods.

“Sure thing.” He goes back to sweeping, but his eyes don’t leave me as he watches me circle the shop.

“What’s your name?” I smile at him so he won’t think too much about why I’m here.

And when he offers a flirty smile back, I relax.

“Mason.”

The name isn’t familiar, which I add to the list of reasons to hope Kane doesn’t know I’m in town. “Nice to meet you, Mason. I’m Lyla. How long have you worked here?”

I’m slowly circling, still taking in every detail of the shop, but trying not to draw attention to it.

“Not long, a few months.”

“Newbie.”

“You could say that.” He shrugs. “Just moved to town from Vegas and got lucky they were looking for an apprentice.”

“Don’t most tattoo shops have apprenticeships?”

“Not ones like Twisted Roses.” He shakes his head.

Once more, I pause, glancing around. My focus moves to the display case filled to the brim with body jewelry. And I get the impression the shop is a bigger deal than it was back when I hung around here.

A phone ringing in the back pulls Mason’s attention.

“I’m going to grab that.”

I nod, smiling as Mason disappears into the back.

It’s strange how places change just as much as people do. The last time I was here the shop was as different as I am. The unease of unfamiliarity washes through me as I walk around and absorb the changes.

Even if I didn’t like the sterile blank walls, they were what I was used to. A cold shop filled with bikers. Jude stomping around every time Rachel said he wasn’t ready for a particular piercing yet. The buzzing of needles and the chatter of people.

But most of all, I miss—

No.

I can’t go down that rabbit hole again.

Glancing up, I catch sight of my reflection in a large mirror that hangs behind the front counter. My black hair is soaked and stringy, and what little makeup I was wearing washed off in the rain, putting my pale cheeks on full display. Stepping behind the counter, I brush my hair off my face, but it does nothing for my appearance. So I lean closer and try to wipe clean the smeared dark lines under my lashes.

My phone falls from my pocket onto the floor. And when I lean down to get it, something on the shelf catches my attention.

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