I hated him.
From the moment I walked into Tig’s Tattoo and Piercing I’d hated him.
Garret was beautiful—because that was the way that fate worked and also because if I’d had anything in my life, it was bad luck. Still, with his derisive green eyes, tats peeking out from beneath the edges of his sleeves, and the scruff on his jaw, he was the sexiest man I’d ever seen in my life.
He also seemed to delight in disrupting my life.
I was there to fix a few pipes; he was there as a guest artist. I was there to do a job, he seemed to take pleasure in upsetting mine.
I was a grown up.
He was a tattooed troublemaker.
This was not going to end well.
Elise Faber
