Opposites Ignite by Sadira Stone (crime books to read .txt) 📗

“Honestly, I don’t know. Nearly all my relatives work in the laundry industry.” He wove his fingers through hers. “I hope they’ll see this as honoring our family roots in a different way.”

He picked up his chopsticks again and tried to lift a sticky Korean-spiced chicken wing. She nudged him with her elbow and picked one up with her fingers.

“What about your family?” he asked. “Do they support your tattoo career?”

“Hell, no.” She huffed a curl from her forehead. “But I came to terms with that long ago. My sister hasn’t given up on getting me back in school, but Mom says it’s my decision to make. Funny that the only teacher in the family is the one who gets it—school just isn’t my thing.” She dropped the chicken bones onto the plate and nabbed another wing. “My grandparents are dentists. They offered to pay for dental hygienist training, but—ugh. Spending all day inside people’s mouths?” She rubbed her thigh against his. “Unless it’s your mouth, of course.”

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack, you know that?”

“This topic is too grim for such a delicious meal.” She pointed a chicken bone at him. “New topic: How did you get so good at date planning?”

He waggled a finger. “Not divulging my sources. But I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“I am.” Their gazes met and held. In tandem, they sucked in a deep breath, held it, then released it in a laugh.

“So, what’s up next, planner boy?”

His eyebrows arched. “You’ll see when we get there.”

He paid for lunch, refusing her offer to split the check. They drove downtown to Antique Row, two blocks lined with quirky second-hand and vintage shops.

She clapped her gloved hands. “I love this place. How did you know?”

“Just an educated guess. You’re collecting ideas for your portfolio, right? Figured we might find inspiration here.”

“And you might find something for your bar?”

“Just ideas at this point. Let’s go.”

They wound through Smith and Son, a three-story warren whose wares ranged from antique furniture to junk jewelry, old furs, artwork, plus mini boutiques offering everything from comics to lingerie. Rosie snapped photos of Art Deco brooches that would make great tattoo designs. Eddie blushed like a strawberry as she flipped through racks of silky little nothings she could never afford, holding them up for his approval. Note to self—wear good lingerie tonight.

On the ground floor, they paused in front of a huge, mahogany-framed mirror trimmed with intricate carved flora and fauna.

Eddie whistled. “Can’t believe it’s still here.”

Rosie wound her arm around his waist and squeezed. “This would be perfect for your bar, right?”

“Is there a stronger word than perfect?” He gazed reverently at the gorgeous old piece. She watched his reflection as he traced every detail. And then his gaze shifted to her, his eyes shining with banked fire. “I guess there is. It’s Rosie.” Holding her reflected gaze, he wound his arms around her middle. “From now on, that’s what your name means—better than perfect.”

Suddenly tongue-tied, she sputtered a nervous laugh.

He buried his blushing face in the crook of her neck. “Sorry. I suck at romantic words.”

Warmth filled her chest. “No, Eddie. You definitely do not suck.”

For a long moment, they stood entwined before the giant mirror, a mismatched couple who shouldn’t fit but somehow did. Perfectly.

Finally, he patted her hip. “Welp, if I haven’t scared you off with my bad poetry, we’ve got one more stop.”

The snow fell harder as they drove down Pacific Avenue and parked across from the brick arches of the Washington State History Museum. As soon as the wipers stopped, fat flakes patted the windshield, covering them in a fluffy white blanket that muffled the street noise beyond their little cocoon.

“Damn.” Eddie thunked his fist on the steering column. “I was hoping for clear skies for this last part.”

“We could just make out in your car.” She leaned across the center console and fluttered her lashes.

With a groan, he raked his fingers into her hair and mashed her lips in a hungry kiss. “Gonna need a bigger car if we want to do more than this. You up for a walk across the Bridge of Glass?”

“Absolutely.” She tugged her fuzzy beanie over her curls. “More room to kiss there.”

They dashed across the tram tracks and onto the slender pedestrian bridge decked with Dale Chihuly’s blown-glass artwork. Eddie pulled her to a stop beneath one of the poles topped with chucks of translucent blue-green glass, like giant rock-candy swizzle sticks. “Gotta kiss here. It’s good luck.”

His kiss warmed her right to her toes. “Wow.” She blinked against the stinging cold. “Never heard of that tradition before.”

Eddie chuckled. “I just made it up. C’mon.” He tugged her to the shelter of the glass roof holding hundreds of blown-glass sculptures shaped like undersea plants and creatures—a fantasy coral reef in dazzling colors. By now the sun was low in the sky, and snow atop the glass ceiling contrasted with the rainbow overhead.

Huddled close, they shuffled from spot to spot, necks craning as they drank it the visual feast.

“Did you ever look through a microscope at those little pond water creatures?” Rosie asked, her head on Eddie’s shoulder. “Reminds me of the way they dance, a tiny hidden world.”

He nibbled her earlobe, his touch deliciously distracting. “Show me your favorite.”

“You mean pick just one? Impossible.”

“Nah, it’s very possible.” He pointed. “That one’s my favorite.” Still holding her tight, he maneuvered them beneath a wide tan blossom flecked with gold. Wavy glass petals flared from a chestnut center, and a brilliant cobalt rim circled its scalloped edge.

“Why this one?”

“It’s your colors. See? Amber like your skin, warm brown like your eyes, and the bright blue matches your hair.”

Her eyes blurred with tears. Though he denied his skill, Eddie had a way of spinning a compliment that arrowed right to her heart.

I love you. The words throbbed in her chest, pushed at her throat, struggled to escape her tightly pressed lips. She swallowed them