Page 2 of Royally Twisted

“Isn’t that the suicide meeting?”

He glanced back at Alan, giving him a look that said shut the hell up, just as their friend Aubrey strolled out of the back room. “Hey, who’re we spying on?” she whispered.

Tymber tipped his head up toward the ceiling and stepped back into the room. She was one of the only ladies he considered a friend and wasn’t one with benefits. Again, he was that guy before his diagnosis. Of course, she’d been pregnant when they’d first met five years ago and bent on keeping her child even if it had meant her life. Today, she’s a mother to a four year old. She upped her crazy by naming Tymber as one of the kids godfathers. Like him she was in remission and thriving. He’d told her she had to live, or he’d have her kid tatted up by fifteen. “Aubs, you need a filter.”

“So says the manwhore. Go see if she needs help getting into the meeting, Tymber,” Aubrey gave him a shove.

“Fuck, Aubrey, you can’t make someone go to a meeting if they don’t want to. Why don’t you two go home, and I’ll go have a chat. Maybe she’s just lost.” He winked at the two people who were the complete opposite of him, yet were two of his closest friends, next to Ember and Lincoln at Twisted Ink, the tattoo shop they owned together. “I’ll see if I can’t help her.”

“She doesn’t need your D to convince her to not end her life, Tymber,” she whispered.

Tymber rolled his eyes. “Did I say she did? What, do you need the D, Aubs? Not mine since that is off the table and all, what with you being like my sister and everything.” He grinned at the dirty look she shot him while flipping him the bird.

“Just don’t be an ass, Tymber Black,” she warned.

It was his turn to flip her the bird as he waited for Alan and Aubrey to leave. He was glad to see the two of them together and happy. Aubrey’s fiancé had left her as soon as he’d heard she was pregnant, then after the baby was born, he signed his rights away. If any man was a dick, it was that guy and guys like him.

Walking out the door, he made his way toward the mystery woman, wondering what would make a stunner like her want to kill herself. Her outfit screamed zero fucks given but clearly cost a lot of money. He was the only boy of four and knew enough to spot name brands. Harley Davidson clothes were sexy as fuck but weren’t cheap. Paired with the leather mini skirt, and the dollar signs were adding up. The slim, sexy legs he could imagine wrapped around his waist or neck...he truly was an equal opportunity guy, looked as though she worked out.

“You going to stand there all night and eye fuck me, or move on?”

Tymber brought his gaze up, startled to see bright green eyes glaring back at him. Black hair, green eyes, and porcelain skin. Black Irish his mama would’ve call her. Damn, he bet she had the fiery temper too. “Sorry, I was trying to get the nerve up to speak to you,” he lied.

She fell back onto her feet, no longer standing on the tips of the boots she wore, the leather making a creaking noise in the silence of the hall. “Uh huh, and you thought my ass had all the answers?”

A grin split his lips. “Sugar, many a fine ladies’ asses have left me speechless, yet none have given me answers. Does your ass talk?”

It was her turn to grin. “Well, I’m told when I walk away men’s tongues tend to wag. Does that count?”

He stepped closer, keeping his hands in his pockets, not wanting to appear threatening. Damn, she smelled fucking amazing. “I’d ask for a demonstration, but I find myself not wanting you to leave.”

She snorted. “Good line, lumberjack.”

Tymber startled at the name. “What?”

“The flannel and work boots. Hence lumberjack. Although I do have to say California is a far cry from the woods.” As she spoke, her hand went up and down, outlining his frame, indicating his attire.

He thought about her words, then nodded. “So, going by clothing choice, you’d be goth girl. Oh, we are a pair. The lumberjack and goth girl. Surely those are superhero names or should be.”

She laughed, then bit her lip. “I...this is odd.”

He moved across the hallway, giving her space when he sensed she needed it. He leaned against the wall, raising one leg up and resting his foot on the wall and then crossed his arms. “Nah, not odd. Ant Man was odd,” he said when the silence stretched too long.

Finally, she nodded. “You’re right; that could work. Our superhero names,” she agreed. “What would be our superpower?” she mimicked his pose.

Running his hand down his short beard a couple times, he tapped his chin as he thought. “Superman has several powers, but his disguise was fucking lame as shit. I’m gonna go with Iron Man.”

“I didn’t ask which superhero. I said what superpower,” she laughed.

Her laugh was deep, making him think of smooth whiskey.

“Yeah, but after giving it some thought, I decided a complete takeover was due,” he argued.

Again, her husky laugh filled the hallway. “You’re a rule breaker, aren’t you?”

Tymber shrugged. “Only when the rules are stupid. Now, before you get your panties in a twist, I’m not saying your rules were stupid.”

When she held her hand up and gifted him with another laugh, he swore he’d do almost anything to hear it again and again. “First of all, I didn’t give a rule. Second of all, I don’t have any panties on.” Her cheeks turned a delicate pink, but she didn’t break eye contact.

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