" Harper walked over to her reception desk. “What’s with the Tyson look-alikes out there? I almost couldn’t get in here.”
Pixie frowned. “Better go ask your boy-o. Famous rock star in the house.” Pixie accentuated her comment with the poke of her pen.
Jeez, he was huge. And built. And shirtless. Okay, enough staring. Well, maybe just for another second. Trent was leaning over the guy, and she could tell from the wide-reaching spread of purple transfer lines that he was just beginning a sleeve on the other man’s lower arm. The guy in the chair might well be a rock star— although Harper would never admit she had no clue who he was— but he was wincing. Harper could totally feel for him.
Trent was in his usual position— hat on backward, gloves on, and perched on a stool.
Harper approached them nervously. The big guy’s size and presence were a little intimidating.
“I don’t bite.” Oh God. He was talking to her.
“Excuse me?”
He sucked air in between clenched teeth. “I said I don’t bite. You can come closer.” His blue eyes were sparkling as he studied her closely.
Trent looked up. “Hey, darlin’,” he said, putting the tattoo machine down and reaching for her hand. “Dred, this is my girl, Harper. Harper, this is Dred Zander from the band Preload. He’s one of the other judges I told you about.”
Wow. Not that she knew much about the kind of music that Trent listened to, but even she had heard of Preload. That certainly explained the security outside.
Dred reached out his hand and shook hers. “Nice to meet you, Harper. And a pity. For a minute, I thought you were coming over to see me.”
“No,” Harper exclaimed quickly, looking over at Trent, who was grinning at her. “I mean, no, I was just bringing Trent some cookies.” Holy shit. Was she really that lame? It was like that moment in Dirty Dancing when Baby told Johnny she carried a watermelon.
Dred turned and smiled enigmatically at Trent. “I see what you mean, man.”
“Give.” Smiling, Trent held out his hand. Reaching inside her bag, she pulled out the cookies and handed the container to him.
“Seriously, dude, she’s the best fucking cook on the planet.” Trent paused to take a giant bite. “You got to try one,” he mumbled, offering the container over.
Harper watched, mortified, as a modern-day rock legend bit into one of her cookies.
Dred chewed and groaned. “These are almost as good as sex.”
Harper laughed.
“Not quite,” Trent responded, giving her a look that made her burn. “You should try her pot roast. Could bring a grown man to his knees. "

― Scarlett Cole , The Strongest Steel (Second Circle Tattoos, #1)