Read Tattered Love (Needle's Kiss) for Free Online Page B

absolutely loved.
    What I loved about Bob’s was the friendly, relaxed atmosphere. Delicious and simple meals, cold beer on tap and great music. I wasn’t one of those girls who sipped fluffy frou frou drinks from pretty glasses with her pinkie in the air. Fuck no. Give me ice cold beer, shots of anything strong, and the occasional rum and coke.
    “Table free over there,” Mace said with a nod of his head in the direction of a vacant table toward the back beside the pool tables. “I’ll get us some drinks. Be right there, babe”
    He walked off toward the bar, not even asking me what I wanted. My irritation flared.
    What an ass!
    Did he think I couldn’t order for myself, his macho man routine was really beginning to piss me off. I mean, really did I have “useless bitch” hung on a tag around my neck?
    “Freaking, assface, douche canoe, thinks he can boss me around like some kind of piece-of-bimbo ass,” I muttered to nobody in particular as I stomped off to our table ready to give him a serving when he got back, no doubt with something I’d hate. “He brings me back anything in a bitch glass, and I’ll make him drink it,” I continued ranting aloud.
    I’d no sooner slid into my chair and put my clutch down when a cold beer was slid in front of me. I looked to the beer—all the pissy mood flew out of me replaced by a squishy feeling in my gut. Eyes snapping up to Mace to say thank you, I realized he was smirking like the cocky ass he was. “Thanks, but what’s so funny?” I part snapped at him.
    “You, babe, stompin’ about the place like you’re gonna deck someone,” he said, trying and failing to hold back a chuckle
    “I wasn’t going to hit anyone, just give you a piece of my mind.” I looked at him a little annoyed, because even when I thought he wasn’t paying attention, he was aware of my little tantrum. “How did you know what I drink?”
    “Paid attention at dinner last night. You only drink one kind of beer,” he said nodding his head in the direction of my drink.
    There he went again pissing me off with his noticing shit most men wouldn’t. I corrected my earlier observation.
    Stupid, thoughtful, attention paying ass!
    Fortunately, our conversation took a more pleasant turn when he let me order my own dinner and the next round of drinks. Though he put his foot down at me paying for anything.
    “I’m more than capable of paying for a round of drinks,” I told him, eyebrows raised, my hands on my hips. To anyone else I probably seemed like a bitch, but he only found it amusing.
    “A man doesn’t let his woman pay, plain and simple, babe,” he told me, his tone one not to be messed with.
    Hold on, when the hell had I become ‘his woman’? It was our first date for crying out loud!
    After our relaxing meal, we had a few more drinks, made all that much better with the light easy conversation. Where the back and forth dropped off, there was a comfortable silence that simply didn’t need to be filled.
    “How long were you with special ops then?” I figured I had to take this slow, and then maybe he’d give me something to work with.
    “Six years roughly. How long have you been a tattooist?” His answer was brief, steering the conversation back again.
    “I got my first tattoo here at eighteen.” I pointed to the ink on my bicep. “After that, I was hooked. I started my apprenticeship almost straightaway. Haven’t looked back.” He grabbed my arm and looked a little closer, the contact of his rough calloused fingers bringing the flush back to my cheeks.
    “An engine?” he asked with raised brows.
    “My dad and I we built cars from scratch; it was our thing. We always had an old engine we’d be fixing up.”
    “The Cobra? You did that?” I’d seen him eyeing my car appreciatively.
    “Yep, took us about six months, but she was well worth every second.”
    “And the shoe?” he questioned, tipping his head to the side slightly. Looking back to my tattoo, I smiled. It