Guns: The Spencer Book
Page 35

But now, sitting here on a ridiculous motorcycle, all dressed up in yesterday’s rebellious biker clothes. I feel… stupid. And small. And pathetic. Used-up, good-for-nothing trash. I don’t answer Bobby. Obviously that question was rhetorical—I’m a tattoo artist and I’m sitting in front of a tattoo shop. This is where I work.
I grab my stuff, fish my keys out of my backpack, and get up to go open the front door. When I get inside I flip the sign from closed to open and break for the hallway that leads to the tattoo chairs. Bobby Mansi follows me.
I walk to the back of the building where we have a little break room. It’s got a TV, a table that seats eight, and a small kitchenette on one side. On the other wall there’s lockers. I dial the combination on mine and open it up. I grab my phone from my backpack and stuff it in my pocket, then shove the bag in the locker and slam the door closed.
Bobby Mansi is waiting for me in the doorway, his hands propped up on either side of the door jamb. “Sorry,” I say as I duck under one arm and walk back to my tattoo room. “I’m not very good company right now. I’m here alone for the next few days and I have a client due in about thirty minutes, so I need to get things running.”
I glance at him when I turn into my room. He’s still in the door, but he’s looking at me over his shoulder. “Something wrong, Veronica?”
I sigh as I look at him. God, this man is bordering on beautiful. I don’t normally like the beautiful ones. Ford is sorta beautiful in his scary weird way, and his brand of handsome has never appealed to me. But Bobby Mansi. He’s a definite maybe.
“Not exactly, no.” I reply. “I’m just…” I have no idea what I’m feeling. All bad things. All things I’d rather not share with a handsome stranger.
“You’re just… sorry you turned me down for dinner last night, aren’t you?”
I laugh a little at his cleverness and look him over properly. He’s grinning at me and his green eyes even have a little mischievous twinkle in them. “I didn’t exactly turn you down, remember? I told you I have to work until eleven, so dinner is just not possible.”
“Why do you have to work until eleven? Do you have appointments all night?”
“No, but we get walk-ins.”
“But you own this place, correct?”
“Yeah. Well—it’s family-owned.”
“So close early. Close early and come have a nice dinner with me.”
I sigh again. If only it was that easy. But then, he lives a comfortable life. He probably has no idea the struggles we have as a business. But I don’t really know how to explain this to a guy who owns entire buildings, so I use an easy excuse. “I have no nice dinner clothes because my apartment was condemned. I don’t even have time to go find some.”
“We’ll stay in. Have a nice dinner at my place. Wear what you have on, I have no complaints.”
My stomach does a few flips at his suggestive tone. I feel a little guilty for even considering his offer, but then again… all my best friends did just leave me sitting in the coffee shop like I’m nobody. I mean, seriously—it’s obvious that Ronin and Ford were worried about Rook and Ash. But me? No. Spencer could give two f**ks about me. All he wants is the idea of me.
Why should I deny myself a nice dinner in the company of a good-looking man?
“OK,” I finally say. “OK, I’ll come. But I can’t close too early, we need the walk-in business. Nine, maybe. Is that too late?”
“I’ll be back at nine to escort you home.” And then he flashes me one more smile and walks back down the hallway. The bell jingles his exit and I let out a breath.
Calm, Veronica. Be calm.
But I can’t be calm, because I just accepted a date with Bobby Mansi. And even though I did go out with Carson a couple months ago, it’s not even remotely the same.
Carson is not my type. My type has always been Spencer. Even before I knew Spencer, my type was Spencer. And Bobby is not really my type either. I’ve never been into the rich guys. I don’t know how much money Spencer has—more than me, but that’s not saying much. He seems comfortable. I’ve never heard him complain about money, so I’m sure he’s not sweating the downtown FoCo rent every month like we do to keep our shop running. But he comes off as a working guy. I like the blue-collar guys. They’re very hot. That’s my type. Working men.
But maybe it’s time to explore new things.
Maybe it’s time to let Spencer go. Maybe I’ve been holding onto this dream of being with him because that’s all I’ve known for the past few years. Because we did so many cool and intimate things together and it was hard for me to accept that all that fun was over.
But just because I always do what I’ve always done doesn’t mean I have to keep living life that way.
Yeah. I feel better already. I’m turning over a new leaf. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I’m gonna reinvent myself.
So goodbye Spencer and hello Bobby.
Chapter Fifteen
SPENCER
I drop the girls and Ronin off at Ford’s place, then Ford and I exchange my Shrike truck for the unmarked van we use to transport bikes. The same van we drove back to Chicago to save Rook last summer. We drive in complete silence across town to the apartment Ford has been renting since season one. He keeps some sensitive stuff over there.
As do I.
I glance over at him as we drive down College Avenue. Fort Collins is pretty spread out for being a small town. And it’s not close to the freeway, the town itself is a good fifteen-minute drive west of the freeway, and since Ford’s secret place is about as southeast as you can get and still be considered Fort Collins, it’s a nice thirty-minute drive in lunch-hour traffic.