Rome (Marked Men #3)(10)

The guys were listening to some really loud punk rock and I wasn’t really paying attention because I was lost in my own memories when I realized someone was leaning on the counter across from me. The waiting area had people milling around waiting for their friends or family members to finish up with their appointments, but I hadn’t heard the chime of the bell over the door ring to indicate a new arrival. At first I thought it was a walk-in wanting to set up a consult, but it was only when I had to lift my gaze up, and then even farther up, that I realized it was not someone I was particularly happy to see. My feelings must have been reflected on my face because the hard mouth I was used to seeing in a harsh downturn actually kicked up on one side in a grin that transformed Rome’s entire face.

There was no denying the Archer brothers had won the genetic lottery. Whereas Rule’s good looks were camouflaged under self-adorned artwork and flair, Rome’s were totally in your face and impossible for all the girly parts of me not to notice. If the army wanted to guarantee the recruitment of every ninety-pound weakling from here to Brooklyn, all they needed to do was slap Rome Archer on their recruitment posters. He just emanated a sense of “take care of business” that was heady, and I shouldn’t have found it attractive, but I totally did. He was as gorgeous as he was annoying.

I cleared my throat and clicked off the browser.

“You look terrible.” And he did. He had a black ball cap on with a white Broncos logo on the front, but even under the shadow of the brim I could see that he had the shadow of a bruise under one eye and that the knuckles of the hands he had placed on the counter where he was leaning were torn up and covered in scabs. All that aside, his eyes were still the bluest blue I had ever seen and that tiny little grin did more to make him look like an actual, breathing human than I think a full-on smile ever could.

The eyebrow under the scar twitched a little and he rapped his fingers on the marble that separated us.

“You have really pretty eyes.”

I blinked those eyes in surprise because I wasn’t expecting that. So far all this guy had shown he was capable of emoting was vitriol and angst. The compliment seemed out of left field.

“Ahh … thanks?” My eyes were two different colors. The left was a bright, iridescent turquoise that was indeed really pretty, the right was a hazel brown that fluctuated between hot-cocoa brown to the color of espresso at any given moment. People commented on them a lot, but I never would have figured Rome to be one of them. In fact I think it was the first thing he had ever spoken directly to me. I was good with words, so I didn’t love that him being nice made me tongue-tied.

“Do you think you can grab my brother for me? I need to talk to him really quick. I have an entire post–Independence Day parade of repentance I need to get through today.”

I stared up at him in surprise. In my experience big, gruff ex-soldiers weren’t the type of guys who readily admitted accountability when they messed up. I wasn’t sure what to make of that, or really of him. I did know his looming presence and those too-blue eyes were making me kind of uncomfortable, but not in the he’s a big jerk kind of way, more in the I really want to see him without a shirt on kind of way.

I cleared my throat again and looked back into the shop. Rule was wiping the clear goo on the fresh ink he used to protect the tattoo for the client until they got home. He was watching Rome and me interact with a frown on his face and I noticed that Nash and Rowdy all wore similar expressions. I didn’t know if the sour looks were directed at me or at Rome, but I didn’t like it either way and gave them all a glare back. I swiveled around in my chair and looked back up at Rome. He was watching me with a look of curiosity on his face and I almost wished I knew him better so I knew what it meant.

“He’ll be done in like fifteen minutes if you want to hang out. He has another appointment right behind it, though, so try and keep the murder and mayhem to a minimum.”

He snorted and pushed off the counter. I hated to admit it, but I couldn’t pull my gaze away from the muscles that were rippling along his huge biceps, visible under the sleeves of his black T-shirt. I wasn’t the kind of girl who was attracted to bulging muscles and a rock-hard physique, at least I never thought I was until I couldn’t pull my eyes off of all the sinew and flex that was Rome Archer. He was just too big, too much, and way too all-American to be sending all those kinds of tingly things running under my skin.

“I’m not exactly sure why, but I feel like I should apologize to you as well. Even though I’m the one that ended up covered head to toe in beer.”

I winced a little and tried not to squirm under the scrutiny of those piercing eyes. I tugged on my ear and looked away. The smooth surface of the plug in the lobe rubbed back and forth between my fingers.

“I have a tendency to overreact at times, and you were being unbearable. Every one of those people loves you and has worried about you for years and years while you were gone. The least you can do is return that affection.”

He had the good grace to look properly chastised, and when he took his hat off to rub a hand over his short cap of hair, I noticed a nasty-looking gash that now decorated the side of his head.

“What on earth happened to you?”

He looked confused until his fingers grazed the shaved spot and the tiny metal sutures holding his scalp together.

He slammed his hat back on his head and the grin that had been dancing around his mouth fell totally away.