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CHAPTER1
SLADE
"You aren't getting a tattoo, Mischief."
"Oh, yeah?" Bella Carmichael slams her hands down on her hips, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder as she glowers up at her husband, Cormac. "Well, you aren't the boss of me, Cormac Carmichael. I do what I want."
I fight a smile as Giant slowly plants his hands flat against the counter, hauling himself out of my chair. His gray eyes dance with a combination of humor and heat as he turns to face his wife, still shirtless where I just finished his ink.
"Whose kid are you carrying, Mischief?"
"Yours because you wouldn't wear a freaking condom, even though I told you that you were going to knoc?—"
He growls, dragging her into his arms to kiss the complaint from her lips before she can finish uttering it. Her pregnant belly presses against his abdomen. I avert my gaze, cleaning up my station as they make out like teenagers, their argument forgotten in the heat of the moment.
It usually is with these two. I think they piss each other off just so they can make up. They're oil and water. They aren't supposed to mix, yet they combine beautifully when it comes time to cook up something decadent. It keeps shit interesting around here since Giant started coming in to get his piece done a couple of months ago. He always drags Bella along with him.
She pesters him about getting ink herself the entire time. Hell will freeze over before Giant lets that happen, though. I've got three other people working in the shop capable of inking her, but like me, they're dudes. He isn't letting anyone with a dick lay a hand on his wife.
Every man in the MC is the same way. Shit. They aren't the only ones. Half the men in this town are possessive assholes when it comes to their women. They drank the water and lost their goddamn minds. If they even think you're too friendly, forget it.
I've been avoiding the water around here like the plague. Don't get me wrong, I don't have anything against marital bliss. Matter of fact, I don't think I'd mind it at all. But falling into it when I've got my hands full is a hard limit for me.
I can't remember the last time I even went on a date. It's been a long goddamn time, I know that much. Women have been throwing themselves at me since I opened the fucking shop here a few years ago. Horny housewives with nothing better to do think a quick fuck with a man who looks like me is as close to an adventure as they'll get in a town like Silver Spoon Falls.
Sucks for them because I'm not interested. Not in them. Certainly not in helping them fuck around on their husbands. And not in being a notch on a bedpost.
I'm not a trophy fuck, as much as some of these chicks seem to think I am. I know what I look like. I'm six-foot-four with muscles and tattoos. They eat that shit up, but they don't know me.
If they did, I doubt they'd be so quick to throw themselves at me.
I crave control. I need it. Thrive on it. Live for it.
Unfortunately, I don't fucking trust anyone enough to take it, not like I want. That kind of connection requires giving a whole helluva lot more of myself than I'm willing to give, especially to some chick who just wants to get off. So, I simply abstain.
It's easier than the alternative.
"You aren't getting ink, Mischief," Giant rasps to Bella, breaking their kiss. "Your body is perfect exactly the way it is. You aren't marking it all up just so you can say you did it."
"But I want a Gizmo tattoo."
"Fine. I'll get one for you."
"That's not the same thing, Tiny."
"Close enough."
"You are so annoying."
"You married me."
"I must have been out of my mind that day," she mumbles, making me chuckle. "No sane woman would ever willingly tie herself to a crazy man like you."
"Then I guess it's a good thing you aren't sane, isn't it?"
"Yes, I am!" she growls as he snags his shirt off the back of my chair.
"Bella, take your gorgeous ass to the truck before you get us both kicked out of here permanently," Giant says, pulling his shirt on with a big smile on his face. I swear to God, he gets off on pissing her off.
