The Tattoo Artist and the Girl from the Coffee Shop (Coffee Shop Girls #8) by Terry Towers

Author:Terry Towers [Towers, Terry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B017IVRH4K
Published: 2015-11-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Tessa

An unhappy person’s best friend – Haagen-Dazs, Tessa mused, dipping her spoon into the small tub of cookie dough ice cream. She let out a low groan looking at the tub, which was halfway eaten. This certainly wasn’t going to help her waistline, especially if she was going to be back on the market again.

She laughed, but it was a sad and hollow sound. Like that was going to matter. And

was she even off the market? She really didn’t know. After what she’d seen tonight she

wasn’t sure if she even wanted to be. She didn’t know if she could handle him being

around sexy, naked women, even if it was just for his work.

Fucking relationships, who needs them?

“I’ve survived the past few years without a man in my life, with everything going on I

hardly need the headache of one now,” she muttered to herself. But she was lying to

herself and she knew it.

Dipping her spoon into the tub again she scooped up another mouthful as she flicked

through the television channels. Comedy, comedy, I need a fun comedy. Not a romantic comedy, those things were depressing as shit when you were already in a heartbroken

mood. The men in those were perfectly imperfect, making you love them even more.

Finally settling on a slapstick comedy featuring Jim Carrey she dipped her spoon in

again. There was no way this one was going to be depressing. Laughs, just lots of laughs.

Just what I need.

As the movie began a roar sounded from outside, coming closer by the second. The

sound was followed by the beam of a single headlight. Moments later the shadow of a

motorcycle appeared, driving across the front window and pulling into the drive next to

her car.

Chase!

She didn’t want it to but her heart rate accelerated in anticipation of seeing him. She

hated that she wanted to see him, she hated herself for falling so hard so quickly, she was hardly a sixteen-year-old girl prone to insta-love crushes. But the situation was as it was; regardless of what her common sense would tell her to do, her heart felt what it felt and she seemed powerless to fight it.

Leaping from the sofa, she looked down at herself and groaned. Grey jogging pants

with holes in the knees and a trash metal t-shirt of an obscure band that she didn’t even like anymore.

Oh shit, shit, shit. He has horrible timing! She raced to the mirror in the hallway and stared at herself in it – no makeup, her hair in a ponytail and there was a smudge of ice cream at the corner of her lip. She groaned again and wiped at the corner of her mouth

with the palm of her hand.

Knock, knock, knock.

With a little squeak she spun around and stared across the kitchen to the front door. It was solid wood so he couldn’t see her on the other side staring like an idiot at the door and she was grateful for that.

The knock came again, a little louder and more insistent.

She hated confrontation, but it had to be done.

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