Taking Another Shot (Taking on Love Book IV)

By Trish Edmisten

Shayla's made some bad choices when it comes to men. When tattoo artist Tripp Crosby offers to help her decode the mysteries of men, it seems like the perfect solution to her problem. Tripp may be sexy as hell, but they're too different to fall in love. At least that's what she thought when they started their adventure. Now she's not so sure, but Tripp's determined to keep her at a distance. When Shayla finally learns the reason why, it could be too late.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trish Edmisten
• Release date: Jun 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311545725

Trish Edmisten

Author of YA and contemporary romance.

Book preview

Taking Another Shot

Trish Edmisten

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2016 by Trish Edmisten

All Rights Reserved

To my stepmother, with extreme gratitude

Thank you for loving my father

It’s not about where you start, it’s about where you finish

Prologue

It was times like this Shayla wished she still smoked.

Any smoker, former or otherwise, knew the best times to smoke. They were, in no particular order; after a good meal, after great sex, after a long day at work, while out drinking with friends, and finally, the reason that made her wish she still smoked, during times of extreme stress.

This definitely qualified as one of those extreme stress situations. Shayla had just told her best friend, well probably ex-best friend now, that she was moving out. She was no longer willing to let everyone think they were a couple just so they wouldn’t find out he was gay and hiding deep in the closet.

Since smoking was out, she took another drink of champagne. The irony of the gesture wasn’t lost on her. Champagne was supposed to be a drink for celebrating. Everyone else around her was celebrating. It was a wedding reception after all.

Thank God it wasn’t hers. Yes, her best friend was gay and hiding in the closet, but at least he wasn’t her husband. Things could always be worse.

That old cliché floated through her mind. All the good ones were gay or taken. It just wasn’t fair that a guy with a great personality, a stable job, no ex-wives or children and who was disease free could be gay.

Okay, it wasn’t exactly unfair. Just disappointing to her that she couldn’t find a straight man with those same qualities.

Shayla had always known Grayson was gay. He’d never lied about it. Not like that would have been possible since they’d met in a gay club. Even if they couldn’t be romantically involved, he was still one of her best friends, and he had asked for her help and her confidence. Like the glutton for punishment that she was, she’d agreed to help him.

Two years later, she was still pretending to be Grayson’s girlfriend while he worked up the courage to tell his family he was gay. Shayla wanted to punch herself as she realized how pathetic she’d allowed herself to become.

Two years of being Grayson’s beard, growing closer to his family and practically being adopted by them were nowhere near as bad as two years of no sex, no dates and no love life. All because men assumed living with another man meant she was involved and she couldn’t correct them without risking Grayson’s secret.

Are you all right?

Shayla jumped at the sound of the velvety smooth voice that came from behind her. The man laughed as she spun to face him, and her hormones rallied at the sight of Tripp Crosby.

Tripp was a good friend of Grayson’s cousin, Justin. He was also easy on the eyes. It was the broad shoulders and wide chest, she decided. Well, that and the gorgeous blue eyes offset by his ash blond hair.

I didn’t mean to scare you, Tripp said.

I’d believe you if you weren’t laughing.

I am sorry, but you looked like maybe you were upset about something.

Shayla raised her eyebrows. Why would you assume I’m upset?

Besides the look on your face, your boyfriend just came through those doors looking about like you do right now. My guess is you two had a fight.

Not exactly.

Want to talk about it? People say I’m pretty easy to talk to.

And what people would those be?

Lots of people. It kind of goes along with the job.

The job of being a tattoo artist?

You’d be surprised what people tell me when they’re in the chair. Tripp smiled. I’ll bet I hear more confessions than a Catholic priest.

Shayla laughed. If this is confession, does that mean you’re sworn to secrecy?

Scout’s honor, Tripp said, making a mock Boy Scout salute. If it makes you feel any better, there’s nothing you can say that I probably haven’t already heard.

Have you heard the one about the woman who spent two years pretending to be someone’s girlfriend so his family wouldn’t find out he was gay?

Tripp’s expression didn’t change. No, I can’t say I’ve heard that one before.

I have. I lived it. Shayla sighed as she looked over the balcony. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I always attract the wrong type of guys.

You mean gay ones?

Believe it or not, yes. The last guy I dated was gay, only he waited three months to share that news with me.

That sucks.

I’ve spent so much time with gay guys that I don’t think I’d know how to tell if a straight guy was worth my trouble.

Sounds like you need a relationship coach.

That would be great if I knew where to find one.

I could help you out, Tripp offered.

Shayla’s smile morphed to a frown. Why would you do that?

You mean besides the fact that I’d get to spend time with a beautiful, interesting woman?

Heat rose in her cheeks. Shayla could not remember the last time a man said she was beautiful or interesting, not a straight one anyway.

Assuming you’re serious, how exactly do you plan to help me? Shayla asked.

I’ll be your consultant on all things man, Tripp explained, and her smile returned. We can hang out, do stuff guys like, talk about stuff guys like, and I’ll even help you figure out how to tell if a guy’s really into you or not. Trust me, with my help you’ll find the right guy and he’ll be straight too.

And what would you get out of this deal?

You mean do I expect you to sleep with me?

Well, do you?

It’s not required, but I won’t say no when you offer, Tripp said, winking at her.

She should say no. In the last few months leading up to the wedding, they’d spent only a handful of hours together. They didn’t know each other at all, and they were nothing alike.

An outgoing and energetic social worker, Shayla had been called words like naïve and idealistic. Not just because she still believed in the good in people but because she believed in doing things to help others. Things that extended beyond the job, things like volunteering at nursing homes and animal shelters and spearheading canned food drives during the holidays.

Along with all of that, she liked to bake and do needlepoint and listen to country music. The book club she belonged to had, of course, been started by her. And despite Grayson often teasing her that it was just an excuse for the girls to get together and gossip, they did discuss the books they read.

Tripp was the quintessential bad boy who looked like he belonged in a Mr. Universe contest or working as a bouncer outside a night club. While he spent his days tattooing people and apparently listening to their wild and crazy stories, she was trying to save the world.

No doubt he was used to women who could keep up with him, tattoo covered women who drank hard liquor and smoked and were comfortable on motorcycles. Aside from the smoking, which she didn’t do anymore, Shayla didn’t fit the bill. A few hours with her and he would probably be bored out of his mind.

The men she knew were nothing like Tripp. They wore Dockers and loafers and preferred wine over beer. They liked sports but were familiar with politics and current events. They drove luxury cars and wore tailored designer suits. They were boring and predictable.

Shayla’s thoughts snagged on that last one. Maybe the men weren’t boring. Maybe they were bored with her. Maybe she didn’t know how to hold the interest of men because she didn’t know anything about what interested most men.

Maybe with Tripp’s help, she could learn how to attract the kind of man who drank beer and rode a motorcycle and didn’t shy away from tattoos. The kind of man whose presence commanded a room; one who made women fall at his feet with nothing more than a smile, a man like the one standing in front of her.

You know what? Shayla said. I’m in. Teach me everything you know about men.

Tripp grinned, and Shayla’s heart stuttered. This probably wouldn’t work, but at least it came with the promise of spending time with the sexy tattoo artist.

Chapter One

One look at the line in the coffee shop and Shayla was tempted to turn around and walk out. Apparently not enough to follow through since she took her place in line with the rest of the caffeine lemmings.

It wasn’t a simple case of wanting this coffee. Shayla needed it. She needed the energy it would bring to help her pack and the calming effect it would have on her nerves.

Grayson hadn’t spoken a word to her after her announcement last night, which made for an uncomfortable car ride home. Knowing him as well as she did, she knew better than to push him. Eventually, he would come around; at least she hoped he would.

This might be one of those things that took a little longer to get past, but he would forgive her. Five years of friendship wasn’t something he would throw away just because she was moving out.

Besides, it wasn’t like they were going to live together for the rest of their lives. Before she’d moved in with him, they’d had this talk. Okay, not this particular talk. The talk they’d had was more along the lines of both of them agreeing they could move on and move out whenever they felt it was best.

Whether he believed it or not, it was best for both of them. Grayson was never going to be honest with his family if she did not stop enabling his hetero behavior.

Shayla’s musings were interrupted when she stepped up to the counter and went for broke. This was definitely an iced coffee with a double shot of espresso topped with chocolate drizzled whipped cream kind of day.

It took a few minutes before her order was ready, but that first sip reminded her that it was worth the wait.

Shoving her sunglasses back onto her face, she headed for the door. Shayla nearly dropped her four dollar coffee when she stepped outside where she was greeted with the most glorious sight ever, Tripp Crosby emerging from his pristine PT Cruiser.

The black T-shirt he wore sported the logo for his tattoo shop, Tripped on Ink. His biceps strained against the fabric, and the way it pulled across his impressive pecs made the shirt seem about two sizes too small.

And those jeans, my God! Did he paint those things on? His thighs were straining against the well worn denim as though they were trying to break free.

Shayla smiled as he approached. Hey there, stranger, fancy seeing you here.

A slow grin lit up his face. Morning, didn’t expect to see you here either.

No offense, but this place seems a bit too trendy for the big, bad tattoo artist.

Tripp’s laugh, a rich baritone, made her stomach flutter. They have good coffee. What can I say?

You’re right about that, definitely what I need to jump start my day.

You have big plans?

Not really, just packing.

Packing, huh? Like for a vacation?

I wish it was that good. I’m moving out tomorrow, and I’ve got some last minute stuff to do.

Need any help?

Shayla blinked at him. What?

I was wondering if you needed any help moving.

You mean yours?

Yes, mine, unless you don’t need it.

Shayla furrowed her brow. Why would you help me move?

That’s what friends are for, Tripp said. Besides, it’ll be a good excuse to get started on those lessons.

How can helping me move possibly help me understand men better?

You’d be surprised how much you can learn about men in situations like that.

If you say so.

I’ll show you tomorrow. Just tell me what time to be there.

My friend, Marissa, is going to meet me at my apartment at nine, Shayla answered. She’s renting a U-Haul.

Okay, nine it is then. Just text me your address and I’ll be there.

I’ll do that, thank you.

No problem, Tripp said. Just make sure you have plenty of cold beer.

Oh, okay, what kind of beer should I get? Shayla asked.

Budweiser, Coors, Miller, it’s all good.

I can do that, Shayla said. I guess I should, you know, get going, packing and all.

Good one, Shayla! The guy probably thinks you’re an airhead.

Tripp smiled. See you tomorrow, Shayla.

See you tomorrow, Shayla echoed.

Trying for casual, but probably failing miserably, she strolled toward the parking lot.

When she got to her car, she turned in time to see him sauntering into the shop and was treated to a look at the best ass she’d seen in a long time, so round and muscular. God how did he fit that thing in his jeans? The sigh that escaped her was part swoon and part resignation.

It was too bad she couldn’t have met him under different circumstances. Even if she had, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Men like that were not interested in women like her.

Tall, black coffee in hand, Tripp returned to his car and extracted his cell phone from his pocket. Before starting the engine, he pulled his brother’s name from his contacts list and hit the call button. When the ringing came through his car speakers, Tripp put the car in gear.

Dude. Kelly groaned. Tell me you have a good reason for calling me at eight on a Sunday morning.

Tripp barely held in a laugh. No, not really.

That sucks, Kelly grumbled. What are you doing up this early anyway? Didn’t you have your old frat buddy’s wedding yesterday?

Yeah, I did.

Did you get lucky with any of the bridesmaids?

This time, Tripp did laugh. Nope, they’re all spoken for.

That sucks, Kelly repeated. Speaking of things that suck, what the hell did you call me for?

I need a favor.

And you thought waking me from a sound sleep was the best way to get it?

What are you doing tomorrow?

A favor for you, apparently.

Tripp smiled. For all his bitching, he knew Kelly would come through for him. With only an eleven month age difference, they’d been close growing up. It was kind of hard not to be best friends with the guy who knew all of your secrets but still stuck around.

Sometimes, Tripp wondered if Kelly would still be around if they weren’t family. Everyone else had bailed, not that Tripp blamed them. He hadn’t always been the easiest person to deal with. Never mind the fact that he had reason to be such an ass. When his life was falling apart, all of his so-called friends took the easy way out and stopped calling and coming around.

Only Kelly stuck by him. If it hadn’t been for Kelly’s dogged support, Tripp probably would have been dead by now.

What’s the favor?

A friend of mine needs help moving.

A friend, huh? I didn’t know you had any of those.

Fuck you.

Thanks, but I’ll pass, Kelly said. So, who are we helping move?

It was a fair question, but one he dreaded answering. As soon as he answered, he knew what Kelly was going to think and what he would say.

Her name—

Did you just say her? This friend is a woman?

Tripp sighed. Yes.

And she’s just a friend?

Yes, Kell, she’s just a friend and she needs help.

I didn’t know you hung out with women. I thought you only fucked them.

Normally, that was true. Casual hookups were fine, but relationships were out of the question. That included friendships since most women viewed friendship as the foundation to a romantic relationship. That might be true with other men, but not with him.

Hey, is that it? Kelly laughed. You traded a favor for sex?

Tripp grinned. No, that’s not it.

Yeah, sure. So, what time and where do you want me tomorrow?

Nine, but I’ll pick you up.

Nine? Kelly actually whined. That’s harsh.

You’ll live. See you tomorrow at eight forty-five and you better be ready.

Kelly disconnected without saying goodbye. No doubt his little brother would be going back to sleep. Given that his job as a bartender kept him up late most nights, it was understandable.

Also understandable was his brother’s surprise at Tripp doing a favor for a woman that didn’t involve sex. Tripp didn’t do relationships anymore, nor was he the kind of guy a woman could take home to mom and dad.

A long time ago, Tripp was that guy. That was before the tattoos and piercings and endless string of one night stands. He’d always thought that saying about nice guys finishing last was just a cliché, but Tripp learned the truth the hard way. Being a nice guy brought nothing but heartache.

Not this time. This time, he was keeping his heart out of it.

* * *

It was amazing how much crap a person could accumulate without noticing.

Shayla sighed as she took a sip of her coffee. Too bad she couldn’t channel her inner Mary Poppins and get everything packed with a snap of her fingers.

At least she had her music and her four dollar coffee to make things easier. Between the caffeine flowing through her veins and the sexy sounds of Chris Young singing Aw Naw, she had all the motivation she needed.

Despite the fact that she’d been packing for the last few weeks, Shayla still had a long way to go before she finished. Maybe if she hadn’t been packing on the sly, she would have been further along,