Rome (Marked Men #3)(9)
Author: Jay Crownover

“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.

“Wrong place at the wrong time, I have a knack for finding myself there.”

I didn’t understand how a guy who clearly had so much going for him—good looks, a loving family, hordes of people that cared about him, a successful career, and obviously a rigid sense of duty and honor—could be so unconcerned about his circumstances and his impact on those around him.

I cocked my head to the side and regarded him closely. I didn’t know Rome from any other stranger on the street, but there was something about him, something strong and magnetic that I was having a hard time denying made me want to figure out what made him tick. Maybe it was the idea of having a distraction from how bummed out I was becoming the closer the date to Jimmy’s wedding got. Maybe it was because he was so ingrained in the lives of everyone I cared about. Maybe it was because he was just so much larger than life and impossible to ignore, but the longer we stared at each other the more my curiosity was piqued.

I was going to tell him he should be more careful, when a heavy hand fell on the back of my neck and gave it a slight squeeze. I knew Rule well enough to take it as the warning it was: Don’t meddle. Rome didn’t need me trying to dismantle him and reassemble him in proper working order. He was a grown man and was going to have to find his way on his own.

Rule’s client looked back and forth between the brothers with huge eyes and then at me, like I could explain why the room suddenly seemed full of tension and hostility, making it almost impossible to breathe. I forced a smile at her and climbed out of the chair.

“Let me just check you out and get you paid up. Why don’t you two take the brotherly love outside before you scare the rest of the customers into leaving?”

Rule gave the back of my neck another squeeze and let me go as he made his way around the counter toward Rome. The two brothers regarded each other stonily and Rule pushed out the glass front door without saying a word to his big brother. The antagonism passing between the two of them felt hot and heavy, which was a shame. They had already suffered the loss of one brother, they should be reveling in the fact they still had each other to lean on and give shit to. I had a hard time understanding how Remy’s secrets had done more to drive the Archer brothers apart than his actual death had.

Rome gave me one last look that I couldn’t decipher. “They’re all lucky to have you.”

I thought the same thing all the time, but it was weird hearing him say it in such an empty and hollow tone, like he was missing something crucial.

“Well, I’m lucky to have all of them, too, and so are you, Captain No-Fun.”

Those blue eyes got big and then blinked at me and once again that little half grin that turned him from a good-looking dude into someone that made my heart bump against my chest in an erratic rhythm lit up his face.

“What did you call me?”

“Captain No-Fun.”

He let out a chuckle that sounded rusty from lack of use and he shook his head at me.

“Staff Sergeant No-Fun is more accurate.”

I gaped a little in surprise that a sense of humor actually lurked somewhere under all the muscle and broodiness.

“I call my dad ‘Admiral Ass Hat,’ he doesn’t really think it’s funny.”