Free Justice Inked (Cowboy Justice Association 7) by Olivia Jaymes

gritted teeth. “We can do it out here for all your neighbors to hear or you can let me in. Your choice.”
    With a put upon sigh, Rayne stepped back so he could enter. “You can come in but you need to leave your attitude outside. This is my home, Dare, and I reserve the right to kick your ass right out of it.”
    He clomped through the entryway and into her living room, his narrow eyes taking in the bright colors and comfortable surroundings. She had a flair for decorating and this room was one of her favorites, second only to the bedroom.
    “People don’t usually kick the sheriff out of the house. They’re usually more respectful.”
    Rayne couldn’t stand this passive-aggressive shit. If he was pissed off he just needed to damn well say so, although she had no idea what he could be angry about.
    Life? Ice cream? Good friends? Delicious food? Kitten whiskers?
    The man was mad all the time and that was his issue, not hers.
    “When I’m treated respectfully I return the favor. Sadly, banging on my door unannounced on a Saturday evening and then growling at me doesn’t seem very respectful, but then I’m from out of town. Maybe it’s different here in Montana.” Rayne perched on the edge of her couch trying to appear completely calm. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me why you’re here?”
    Another scowl but he sank into the cushions of her leather recliner. His icy blue gaze rested on her and she had to quell the urge to squirm in her seat under such scrutiny. She wasn’t going to allow him to intimidate her, although with his imposing frame it wouldn’t be difficult.
    “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all week. You’re a hard man to pin down.”
    A good offense was the best defense so she threw the first salvo, hoping to get her own questions answered before he went into some diatribe about an imagined slight.
    “I got your messages. I’m not here to talk about that.”
    “Then why are you?” she snapped, her temper simmering under the surface. “You came to me, remember?”
    He hopped up from the recliner and paced the small space between her coffee table and the television before finally turning back to her, his gaze stormy. “I told you not to ink Sophie.”
    That’s what this was about?
    “Yes, you did. What’s your point?”
    “My point is that I told you not to do it. She’s too damn young.”
    “She’s of age–”
    “Fuck that.” Dare leaned down, his hand on the arm of the sofa and his face inches away. She could feel the waves of anger coming off of him, the fury mixing with the scent of his skin and giving him an otherwordly vibe that messed with her head and made it hard to concentrate on his words. “She’s a kid. She may be eighteen but that doesn’t mean she’s ready to make a decision like this. Is that how you run your business? You prey on the young and naive?”
    Oh no, he didn’t just go there.
    Rayne poked her finger at the wall of muscle he called a chest, her own eyes narrowed and her lips twisted with anger. She stood up and moved so close to him he stepped back, perhaps not as sure of himself as he had been seconds ago.
    “Just so we’re clear here, Sheriff, I provide a service. A service that can be purchased by anyone sober and over the age of eighteen. It would be bad business to pick and choose only those people I think should have a tattoo. In fact, some people might even call it discrimination.”
    “She’s a little girl.” Dare’s voice had inched up several decibels but her own had gone almost to a deathly whisper.
    “She’s a grown woman and you are a big baby. I’ve never seen a man so petulant every single hour of the day. Is your fucking life so bad, Dare, that you have to be an asshole all the time? Is it? Just what do you have to complain about? Good health? A job? A roof over your head? Just what is your fucking problem? Hemorrhoids? My advice is to take that gigantic stick out of your butt. You’ll be a lot more