Bad Intentions (Bad Love 2)

Dare’s bottom lip is trapped between his teeth and his eyes lock with mine, as if he’s remembering that night, too.

“So, Logan. Ever think about getting a piercing?” Alec asks out of nowhere, inspecting me for any signs of metal, and I’m thankful for the interruption.

“Not really.” I shrug. I don’t even have my ears pierced. I attempted to pierce my belly button with a safety pin when I was thirteen, but I leave that part out.

“No tattoos, either?”

“Nope.”

“You’re working at Bad Intentions now, baby. Time to look the part,” Alec says.

Matty and Cordell laugh, and Dare knocks Alec’s arm away from my shoulder.

“Alec is our piercer. Stay away from him or he’ll have you looking like a human pincushion by next week. Hit me up if you want to put some ink on that virgin skin, though,” Cordell says, and Dare scoffs.

“What? Her skin is pale as fuck, and completely free of ink. It’s an artist’s wet dream.”

Dare looks down at me, eyes full of heat. “I’ve noticed.”

I roll my eyes, ignoring the heat that crawls up the back of my neck. He’s been up close and personal with my paleness.

“Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the shop.”

Dare leads me around, showing me the waiting room that I got a glimpse of on Halloween with the pool table, vending machines, bar, and fireplace, couches…this place has it all. There’s a room with tattoo stations and a piercing booth. When we reach the door to the drawing room, we both pause. I bite my lip, and Dare smirks, knowing exactly what I’m thinking.

“You already know what’s in there,” he says, reaching past me, his arm grazing my waist as he grabs the doorknob. I glance over my shoulder, seeing the desk he almost fucked me on. There’s a couch next to it, too, and I childishly wonder if this is where he takes all his hookups.

“Talk to Jake and see if you can work out a schedule. We need the most help on weekends. If you want the extra hours, you can always come in for a while after your shifts, too. I’m pretty flexible…what?” Dare asks when he notices me staring.

“I still don’t know why you’re doing all this, but regardless, it’s really helping me out. So, thank you.”

“Stop reading into it and stop thanking me. There are no ulterior motives. No bad intentions—no pun intended.”

“Okay.” I nod, trying to take what he says at face value. I don’t think Dare is a bad guy, but I don’t necessarily think he’s a nice guy, either. I’m just…not used to people helping me. At least not when they don’t want something in return. Maybe he really does just need to hire someone and finally caved.

“This place is huge,” I say, changing the subject. “It’s just the four of you here?”

“I keep my circle small.” He shrugs. “I told you. I like my privacy. We have guest artists from time to time, but it’s mostly just us.”

“I could live here.”

“I practically did live here at one point,” he admits. Another little clue to the mystery that is Dare. I wait for him to elaborate, not prodding for more information, but of course, he doesn’t.

Dare’s client walks in, all buttoned-up suit and tie, but when he takes his shirt off, his torso is completely blasted with ink. Dare leads him to his chair while I keep busy with cleaning, familiarizing myself with the software and upcoming appointments, and more cleaning. Dare was right. It doesn’t seem like it would be a lot, but I haven’t run out of things to do yet. It’s a good thing, though. When I have downtime, I get anxious. Probably because I’ve never had the luxury to just…be. I’m always working, cleaning up Crystal’s house—which was a full-time job itself—taking care of Jess, fending off Darrell. Having free time is a foreign co

ncept to me.

I constantly find myself looking his way as he works on a back piece. Dare’s mostly oblivious to my existence, but every now and then, his eyes find mine with an intense expression before returning his focus back to the task at hand.

“Dare never hires women, you know.”

The voice startles me, and I realize it’s Matty. He stands, one arm propped on the front desk.

“Don’t worry. I’m not really a woman,” I say, giving him a bored stare. He laughs.

“I don’t mean anything by it,” he clarifies. “We were all a little…surprised when he told us. I’m just trying to figure out what’s different about you.”

“Probably the whole having a penis thing.”