Rock Reclaimed (Rock Revenge Trilogy 2)
“Shut up. No. I just don’t want to answer any questions about…this.” I waved my hand down the front of him. “You look like an extra from Fight Club.”
“I look like Brad Pitt?” He slid his hand down his belly, where muscles contracted. “Nice compliment.”
“You wish. However, you certainly smell like him.”
“Hey. That wasn’t very nice.”
“I’m not the one sweating and bleeding all over.”
“You’re welcome, by the way.”
I flushed. “Yes, thank you. I don’t know what…” I swallowed hard as flashes of that Rattlesnake guy threatened to toss me down a very bad road. “I don’t know what I would have done.”
“There were too many people around.”
“You know it doesn’t matter. Venice Beach is mostly a community, but bad stuff happens.”
“It happens everywhere, lo—Zoe.”
“I know. I’m just usually more in tune with my surroundings. I’m not stupid.”
“Didn’t say you were. Through here?” he asked as he spotted a door.
“Next one.”
“How the fuck big is this place?”
“This whole building is an artists’ colony, I guess you could call it.”
“Pretty nice for an artists’ colony. Shouldn’t there be a patchouli and pot haze around the building?”
“That’s the patio.”
He laughed. “Right.”
I hid a grin as I leaned him against the alcove near my studio. Wrought iron framed the large windows. We needed the light for our studio spaces, but it still was a beach community. There was crime everywhere—we just liked to make the bars pretty.
“The building is pink.”
“Trying out to be the next Captain Obvious?” I shoved my arm into my bag for my keys.
One sooty eyebrow arched. “Isn’t the pink and beach aesthetic a little cliché for an artists’ colony?”
“Stop saying it so ironically.”
He shrugged and swiped his hand down his chest to get most of the blood and dragged his palm down his leg.
“You’re a mess.”
“Again, you’re welcome.”
“Ah-ha.” I found my keys. The large cord of beads and cheap jewels swung between us. “Try not to be obnoxious.”
“Why?” He grinned. “Do you have a roommate?”
“No. Just don’t make me add another bruise to your collection.”
“Did I mention feisty? Very feisty.” His accent made every word sound…explicit. Like he was adding just a little bit of a spin to it that would leave places warm that should not be warm. Especially after the day I’d had.