I found a pair of thick gloves in Sonny’s garage that were way too big, pulled a long sleeve shirt on to avoid getting burned and went to work.

An hour and a half later, when my back was aching and I felt a warm tingle on my neck that screamed sunburn, I stuffed all the weeds into a trash bag and stood in the middle of the lawn, exhausted. The loud purr of multiple motorcycles echoed through the neighborhood. It being after work hours, a lot of people had pulled into their homes so I wasn’t really planning to go out of my way to look and see where the bikes were coming from. It was second nature. A bike was a bike, wasn't it?

In the middle of hoisting a bag over my head to throw into the trash, two bikers with buzz cuts and hard glares drove by slowly. Their eyes were on me and the house. They didn’t stop, but as soon as they’d crossed the driveway, they picked up speed and zoomed out of the neighborhood.

Weird.

~ * ~ *

The worst part of going to work on Tuesday was not knowing how to act around Dex. It shouldn’t surprise me that he was hanging out with Sonny if they were in the same club, but still. Sonny was warm and sweet—though he had been specific and said it was only to me—while Dex was a temperamental bag of beaver dung. Maybe it was that whole “opposites attract” thing they had going on.

Maybe.

Luckily, it was Blake that came in and opened, leaving me to wonder where The Dick was. I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask Blake or anyone, but I let myself think about it in my head. It was like mentally preparing myself for an incoming hurricane.

Business was pretty steady right from doors opening when Slim showed up. There was tattoo after tattoo for the first couple of hours, then a nipple piercing—which made my own ni**les hurt—and a guy who wanted an eyebrow pierced. It was closer to eight at night when Dex finally showed up, looking mildly annoyed as usual, and striding directly to the back without a wave or a nod to anyone.

Once again, no one said anything. Blake and Slim didn’t even look at each other. I didn’t understand that at all because I was annoyed when he walked in.

In hindsight, I should have just gone to the back and lived with a tongue lashing from Dex for simply living so that I could order supplies for the month instead of staying in the front, talking to a customer’s girlfriend about getting her nose pierced. But I didn’t. In my quest to keep being a bitch because my feelings had been hurt, I stayed up front.

Mistake? Uh, yeah.

~ * ~ *

“Sweetie.”

I looked over at the man standing in front of the reception desk. A man with a full beard and glassy, red-rimmed eyes, who smelled like rubbing alcohol. It was disgusting and it made my nose burn.

But this was my job and everyone had been nice up until then, so I didn’t think anything of it. “Yes?”

“Need to get a tat.”

I gave him a little smile without looking at the appointment log. Even if both Slim and Blake weren't busy and Dex had come out from the back, he still couldn't get tattooed. Whoops. "I'm sorry, but we can't help you if you've been drinking.”

“Sweetie, I need a tat. Now,” the guy slurred, smacking his lips so roughly spittle flew out.

Gross. The smell of alcohol got even stronger. Yuck.

I cringed a little. “I'm sorry but we really can't—,” I tried to explain to him.

Alcohol Cologne grunted. “Get Dex.”

“Dex isn’t scheduled right now.”

“Sweetie, get Dex.”

Oh boy.

I took a deep breath and nodded, pushing away from my chair. “Let me see if I can get him.” Years of mottos that highlighted “The customer is always right” was engraved into me. The music was so loud it wasn’t a surprise that Blake and Slim didn’t hear what was going on. They blasted it. Metal and heavy rock pounded through the speakers most nights after seven.

The office door was closed when I came up to it, but I couldn’t hear anything from inside. I knocked a couple of times but there was no response. The light from the bathroom was on, and I wasn’t about to go bother a man when he was on the toilet regardless of whether it was my ass**le boss or not. Toilet time was personal time, I thought.

“Dex isn’t available right now,” I started to tell the guy who, with another look over confirmed that he was blitzed out of his mind. “But if you wait a few minutes, I’ll try to get him to talk—“

He snapped.

I wasn’t a drinker, and the couple of friends I’d had in passing weren’t much either. They were occasional drunks. Funny drunks. Silly drunks. Loving drunks. I was okay with that. But a mean drunk was something I couldn’t handle at all.

“Look, bitch, I don’t have time! Get f**king Dex right now before I—“

The arm swiped at my waist from out of nowhere. Way too distracted, I realized it was Dex who had an arm wrapped around me, pulling me to his side. His fingers clenched the material of my cardigan.

I couldn’t see his face but I didn’t need to.

Dex The Dick was pissed. Enraged. I half expected him to shed his clothes and turn into a green skinned monster ten times his current—already tall and broad—size.

His wide shoulders were tense and the big man, well over six feet tall, seemed even more intimidating then. I think everyone could sense that unsettling dangerous mist of pissed off biker in their bones.

“Rick,” was the only thing he grunted out.

Alcohol Cologne sensed that raw, crazy energy too because he took a step back. His face, as red as a lobster’s cooked shell when he’d been yelling, blanched.

“I was looking for you, bro,” the man exhaled.

Dex pinched my cardigan between his fingers. “Get out.”

“Dex—“

His shoulders stiffened beneath the bright white t-shirt he had on. “Rick. Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

“But—“

His hand squeezed my shirt so tightly it made me lean forward as he yelled, “Get the f**k out! Now!”

Holy shit.

Rick took on a shade of white formerly only seen on a sheet of college ruled paper, throwing up both his hands. “Dex—“

Dex let go of my sweater taking a step toward the drunken fart. “You know damn well you don’t come into my shop demandin' shit, callin' my girl a bitch.”

In the words of a rap song my neighbor used to play on his boombox when I was a kid: Hold up, wait a minute.

He closed the distance between them, making me ignore the fact he'd just called me his girl. I swear Dex grew three inches taller as he lifted his hands and pressed them to the drunk guy’s chest. “Get the f**k out before I do something you’re gonna regret,” Dex notified him, shoving the man back so hard I’m surprised he didn’t hit the glass.

The guy stumbled, righting himself slowly after one last withered plea. “Dex.”

All he got in return was silence. Heavy, electric silence.

Rick opened his mouth to say something else before thinking twice and turning around to walk out. As soon as the door swung shut, it was like a rubber band of intensity snapped in the room. My heart was pounding from the sheer volume of the words that were tossed around.

I was so stuck in my own little world that I didn’t sense Dex’s presence inches away from me until his fingertips were on my chin, tilting my face up.