Looking for Trouble (Jackson: Girls' Night Out 1)

“Do you want a ride, Sophie?” Lauren asked. “Jake’s coming to pick me up.”

“No, it’s a beautiful night. I want to enjoy as much walking as I can before winter sets in.”

She said her goodbyes, her heart speeding a little at the small deception. Or maybe it was speeding with excitement, because it only beat faster as she stepped onto the boardwalk. If her friends were paying attention, they’d notice that she wasn’t heading toward her house, but she glanced through the window and saw that they were still chatting as they gathered purses and jackets. Sophie rushed up the block, not bothering to hide her smile.

Even during the slow season, a cacophony sounded from the Bucking Bronco when the door opened a few feet ahead of her. Country music played and people spoke loudly to be heard over it. The outdoor tables were abandoned for the evening, but past the windows, families with tired children ate ribs and steak and took the opportunity to get a little drunk.

When she stepped inside, she noticed the younger crowd at the bar, but she knew from experience that the music was even louder back there. Sophie ducked to the left and headed up the wide staircase.

The bar upstairs was smaller. They only served beer and wine and margaritas, but there were small tables around the bar here, and she and Alex would disappear from view behind the larger dining tables at the front.

Though Alex might have a hard time disappearing anywhere, she realized as she caught sight of his shaved head and walked toward him. He stood at the bar, looming over the few other people there. Sophie glanced around, but there was no one she knew here. There was better steak and cheaper beer to be had a few streets out of town.

Alex saw her and straightened. He didn’t smile, but the slight rise of his eyebrows as he looked her up and down conveyed approval. Sophie did smile. That man was a pleasure to look at. He’d shaved his face, and now his jaw and cheekbones were emphasized, giving him a lean and deadly look. He’d also shucked his leather jacket at some point, and there they were. Tattoos.

One arm was covered all the way down to his wrist with the vivid colors of a design she couldn’t make out from ten feet away. She did her best not to lunge at him like she was bringing down prey.

“Hi,” he said. “I didn’t know if you wanted to get a table.”

“That’d be great.”

He gestured toward the closest empty table, then reached past her to pull out the chair before she could sit. A gentleman. With tattoos.

He grabbed his jacket from a bar stool and slipped it over the back of the other chair. “What are you drinkin

g?”

“White wine, please.”

He nodded as if he’d expected that and stepped back to the bar without another word. The order only took a moment to place, but she used that short time to study him from behind. His gray T-shirt hugged thick shoulders and revealed the delicious taper of his back down to his waist. Those ancient jeans showed off thick thighs and a delicious-looking ass. It all ended in lug-soled black boots that made her heart skip a little.

He was just so...masculine.

She looked away before he turned around with her wine and a bottle of beer, and Sophie folded her hands demurely on the table.

He still looked big when he sat down. She knew she couldn’t hide her stare, so she didn’t even bother. “I like your tattoos.”

His head drew back a little in surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Can I see this one?” She gestured toward his left arm.

He helpfully pulled his sleeve up to his shoulder.

“Wow,” she breathed.

Sophie wanted to reach out and touch, despite that she knew there’d be no texture. But the reds and blues and greens were so vivid, she imagined she’d feel something. It wasn’t just passive art. His arm was alive with it.

She’d never seen such deep colors on skin. Dark green pine trees rose up his biceps in stylized spikes outlined in black, but the tips disappeared into wisps of clouds. A bright blue river wound through the green and then down his thickly muscled forearm. It splashed between angled boulders of red and yellow and gray before the river tightened to a bright red ribbon that finally wound around his wrist.

“It’s really beautiful. It’s honestly the most beautiful tattoo I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks. An artist in California did it. He’s really amazing. He’s the only one I go to now.”

“And that?” she asked, tipping her head toward his right arm, where a raven was drawn in stark black lines that looked like slashes.

“An earlier work.”

“I like it, too. You’ve got nice taste.”