CHAPTER 1
Hannah shivered as she walked through a haze of orange and blue neon light. Breathing deeply, she inhaled a scent that was guilty pleasure incarnate.
Her hunger went from moderate to raging in the split second it took to walk inside the Primanti Bros. storefront. Maybe this would be worth waiting outside in the cold for after all.
She’d spent fifteen minutes in line and had almost turned around and left. But she hadn’t eaten since lunch and it was almost nine at night; she’d waited too long to be in a hurry now. Today had been one of those days when she’d gotten too wrapped up in her work to realize how hungry she was.
Lately, she’d been doing that a lot – purposely burying herself in her work, using busyness like a drug. It numbed a lot of things, not just hunger.
The shop was packed, which was no surprise. All her new acquaintances seemed to agree that the cheesesteaks here were good.
That was why she was here: to get a taste of life in Pittsburgh. To take a step, however tiny, toward feeling at home. Not because she’d become the sort of person who sought out cheesesteaks for companionship late at night.
No way. She was assimilating to life in her new city; that was all. Checking touristy things off the list, because what else did she have to do when not at work?
There were three other women at the Hot Ink Tattoo Studio: an artist named Abby, Zoe the receptionist and Mina, the manager. But they all had rings glittering on their left hands and lives of their own. It wasn’t like Hannah could just waltz in and demand that they accompany her on a girls’ night out.
So, she sat alone at the bar, taking the only open seat. She sipped a glass of water, because drinking alone wasn’t something she wanted to do. Not yet, anyway. Her sandwich was unexpectedly enormous, and almost unbearably fragrant as she unwrapped the wax paper.
It tasted just as good as it looked.
Most of the other people at the bar were men talking sports – loudly. She ignored them and ate, zoning out as she thought back to her workday, which had consisted of two consults and the very first tattoo she’d done in Pittsburgh.
She was mid-bite when a new customer sat down at the bar, just to her left. She hadn’t even noticed the stool was empty.
Frozen with cheese on her face, she swallowed, set down her sandwich and grabbed her napkin.
It was too late – the guy who’d just sat down had definitely seen her with cheese smeared on her cheek. She already felt self-conscious sitting there alone. Having an up-close witness to her awkwardness wasn’t pleasant, especially since he was undeniably attractive.
She didn’t want to notice how hot he was, but it was hard not to when he radiated sex appeal and his elbow was resting just inches from hers. He was tall and dark-haired, with a sculpted build that drew the eye to every hard-won plane and swell. It was the kind of body you only got on purpose, a minor miracle born of sweat and dedication. An interesting-looking biomechanical tattoo peeked out from beneath one of his t-shirt sleeves.
The bartender slid him a glass of water, and she tucked her elbows in by her sides. Couldn’t she have this one indulgence without some hot guy smirking at her?
She was pretty sure he’d done just that, although watching him out of her peripheral vision made it hard to tell. And she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of eye contact.
Gazing straight ahead, she finished the first half of her sandwich. Although she’d been starving just ten minutes ago, it sat in her stomach like a delicious lead weight. The second half was both tempting and daunting. Wrapping it back up and saving it for lunch the next day seemed like a good idea.
Just as she touched one corner of the wax paper, a thunk came from her right, followed by a curse. Amber liquid flooded the bar, spilling over the paper and soaking her sandwich.
“Shit!” The middle-aged guy to her right pushed back his stool, leaping away from his spilled beer.
A mumbled curse came from her left as Hot Guy slapped a napkin down on the spill, holding his water in his opposite hand.
Hannah tried to stanch the creeping flow with her napkin too, but it was too little too late.
“Can we get a towel or something?” Hot Guy asked the bartender.
“Can I get another beer?” Middle-Aged Guy demanded.
“Maybe you should focus on cleaning up the one you just spilled,” Hot Guy said.
Hannah shifted her gaze to the older man. He’d made no effort to clean up his mess. Judging by the look on his face, his primary concern was the wasted alcohol.
“Relax.” He rolled his eyes.
Hot Guy looked pissed. Probably because the beer had splashed onto the front of his blue t-shirt, leaving a stain. A deep line formed between his dark eyebrows, and there was anger in his even darker eyes. Hannah stared, daring to study his face closely for the first time.