“I see your vocabulary hasn’t changed much,” Shannon purred from the doorway.
He closed his eyes and prayed for patience. Okay, maybe he’d lied to himself when he said it was mutual and easy to break up with her. The damn woman kept showing up. He didn’t think she wanted him, but she didn’t want him to forget her either.
He did not understand women.
Especially this one.
“What do you want, Shannon?” he bit out, needing that drink now more than ever.
She sauntered over to him and scraped her long, red nail down his chest. He’d liked that once. Now, not even a little. They were decent together when they’d dated, but he’d had to hide most of himself from her. She’d never tasted the edge of his flogger or felt his hand on her ass when she’d been bent over his lap. That hadn’t been what she wanted, and Austin was into the kind of kink that meant he wanted what he wanted when he wanted. It didn’t mean he wanted it every time.
Not that Shannon would ever understand that.
“Oh, baby, you know what I want.”
He barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. As he took a step back, he saw the gleam in her eyes and decided to head it off at the pass. He was in no mood to play her games, or whatever she wanted to do that night. He wanted to go home, drink a beer, and forget this oddly annoying day.
“If you don’t want ink, then I don’t know what you’re doing here, Shannon. We’re done.” He tried to say it quietly, but his voice was deep, and it carried.
“How could you be so cruel?” She pouted.
“Oh, for the love of God,” Maya sneered. “Go home, little girl. You and Austin are through, and I’m pretty sure it was mutual. Oh, and you’re not getting any ink here. You’re not getting Austin’s hands on you this way, and there’s no way in hell I’m putting my art on you. Not if you keep coming back to bug the man you didn’t really date in the first place.”
“Bi—” Shannon cut herself off as Austin glared. Nobody called his sister a bitch. Nobody.
“Goodbye, Shannon.” Jesus, he was too old for this shit.
“Fine. I see how it is. Whatever. You were only an okay lay anyway.” She shook her ass as she left, bumping into a woman in a linen skirt and blouse.
The woman, whose long honey-brown hair hung in waves down to her breasts, raised a brow. “I see your business has an…interesting clientele.”
Austin clenched his jaw. Seriously the wrong thing to say after Shannon.
“If you’ve got a problem, you can head on right back to where you came from, Legs,” he bit out, his voice harsher than he’d intended.
She stiffened then raised her chin, a clear sense of disdain radiating off of her.
Oh yes, he knew who this was, legs and all. Ms. Elder. He hadn’t caught a first name. Hadn’t wanted to. She had to be in her late twenties, maybe, and owned the soon-to-be-opened boutique across the street. He’d seen her strut around in her too-tall heels and short skirts but hadn’t been formally introduced.
Not that he wanted an introduction.
She was too damn stuffy and ritzy for his taste. Not only her store but the woman herself. The look of disdain on her face made him want to show her the door and never let her back in.
He knew what he looked like. Longish dark brown hair, thick beard, muscles covered in ink with a hint of more ink coming out of his shirt. He looked like a felon to some people who didn’t know the difference, though he’d never seen the inside of a jail cell in his life. But he knew people like Ms. Elder. They judged people like him. And that one eyebrow pissed him the fuck off.
He didn’t want this woman’s boutique across the street from him. He’d liked it when it was an old record store. People didn’t glare at his store that way. Now he had to walk past the mannequins with the rich clothes and tiny lacy scraps of things if he wanted a fucking coffee from the shop next door.
Damn it, this woman pissed him off, and he had no idea why.
“Nice to meet you too. Callie!” he shouted, his eyes still on Ms. Elder as if he couldn’t pull his gaze from her. Her green eyes never left his either, and the uncomfortable feeling in his gut wouldn’t go away.
Callie ran up beside him and held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Callie. How can I help you?”
Ms. Elder blinked once. Twice. “I think I made a mistake,” she whispered.
Fuck. Now he felt like a heel. He didn’t know what it was with this woman, but he couldn’t help but act like an ass. She hadn’t even done anything but lift an eyebrow at him, and he’d already set out to hate her.
Callie shook her head then reached for Ms. Elder’s elbow. “I’m sure you haven’t. Ignore the growly, bearded man over there. He needs more caffeine. And his ex was just in here; that alone would make anyone want to jump off the Royal Gorge. So, tell me, how can I help you? Oh! And what’s your name?”
Ms. Elder followed Callie to the sitting area with leather couches and portfolios spread over the coffee table and then sat down.