Scars felt his brow wrinkling in confusion as Zoe ordered him from the tattoo parlour. Just what the actual f**k was going on here, anyway? OK, sure, she’d beat it out of the back room the other night, which had been surprising in its about-face from smoking-hot to icy-cold, but he’d really thought that she’d freaked out a bit at how sudden it had all been. Thought that she’d be calmer and more open to him by now. And why not? It’s not like he’d done anything that she hadn’t been on board with. Hell, she’d clearly enjoyed herself.
So – what was the issue here? Why was she acting like he’d spit in her coffee, or something?
“What the f**k?” he demanded. “Why are you pretending that the other night didn’t happen?”
“Jesus Christ,” Zoe repeated. She shook her head, sighed. “Look, you really
