Trey stands aside and opens his palm to point toward the back. “After you.”
“It was nice seeing you, Katie. I’m leaving, Trey,” Gracie calls out to us.
“Bye, Gracie. Be careful,” Trey says as he follows behind me. “Second door on the right.”
I keep walking and turn into the open door. I go across the room and sit in the chair, holding my purse in my lap as tight as I can. When I notice my knuckles turning white, I make myself stretch my fingers out, and I drop my purse onto the chair next to me.
Trey walks in and leans his butt against the big chair in the room. I’m assuming by the looks of it, it’s the chair that people sit in when they’re getting a tattoo. He crosses his arms over his chest, and I force myself to keep looking at his face instead of the hard muscles of his arms. “You’re nervous.”
I start to laugh, but then, for fear of snorting again, I stop suddenly. “Yeah, a little.”
“Is it the pain? Because it’s really not that bad. And depending on where you want it, we can try it so you can see what it’s all about. I’ll stop if you say stop.”
I shake my head. “It’s not the pain.”
He’s looking at me with his head tilted to the side. He’s searching my face for answers. “Well, what is it?”
I shake my head, not wanting to say. Maybe he’ll drop it. Maybe if I change the subject. “How long have you been tattooing?”
He laughs. “You’re nervous that I don’t know what I’m doing? I’ve been tattooing for over ten years. I graduated from college in art design, discovered I could make more money off tattooing, and became a licensed tattoo artist. I follow every safety and sanitizing guideline. I attend conferences to keep up to date on new techniques, and—”
I interrupt him. “I wasn’t worried about your skills or anything. I mean, how could I? You’re like a walking billboard of your talent.” I can feel my face heat. You didn’t have to say all that, Katie. But the smile he gives me makes my embarrassment worth it.
He stands to his full height and walks toward me. He picks up my purse that’s on the chair next to me and hangs it on the hook on the wall before dropping in the seat next to mine. “So it’s not the pain and it’s not that you’re worried about my skills. What’s stopping you then?”
3
Treyton
She’s about to space out again. I can see it. But this time instead of asking her about it, I wait. She’s beautiful with her short brown hair that curls around her face. Her eyes are big and expressive, and from the minute our eyes met, I knew she was attracted to me. Fuck, the feeling is mutual. When I first walked in, she had her back to me, and all I could look at was her ass in those jeans. I’ve never wanted to grab on to something so badly in my life. But even though she’s attracted to me, she’s not comfortable with the feeling. I’m used to having women throw themselves at me or flirt endlessly. She’s doing none of those things. It figures the one time I feel something for a woman, she is going to fight it.
She takes a deep breath and blows it out. She turns in the chair to face me, and when she realizes how close we are, she stands up and starts to pace. I still don’t say anything. I just follow her with my eyes and take in her curvy ass and the way it fills out her jeans. She’s beautiful, but it doesn’t seem like she realizes it. I have to drag my eyes up to her face when she stops suddenly and looks at me. In one long jumble of random musings, she stuns me. “I wanted a butterfly tattoo and maybe to have you cover up a stretch mark. You could match my skin tone... You can do that, right? I’ve heard of that being done. But now I don’t think it’s a good idea. I really expected to walk in here and have some guy with a big beer gut and long beard, possibly named Bubba, to be the one doing the tattooing. I didn’t expect you, and well, there’s just no way I’m going to bare this to you so I shouldn’t waste any more of your time. I should probably just go.” Her face is red, and once she’s done with her tirade, she walks toward her purse.
I know I’m manhandling her, but there’s no way I’m going to let her go. Not like this. And even though she’s quite a bit shorter than me... she’s definitely quick. I reach my arm around her waist and haul her back against me. I suck in a breath at the feel of her tight little body against mine. Fuck me, I could bend her over the tattoo chair right now and take her without a second thought, but I don’t want to scare her. When she doesn’t resist, I hold on to her for just a second longer before I turn her in my arms. “Hold up. You can’t just say all that and then just leave. Let’s talk this out.”
I smile down at her, going for an innocent look, but I don’t know if I’m pulling it off. She smells of honeysuckle, and I could stay right here, breathing her in for days if she’d let me. Her hand goes to my chest, but she doesn’t push me away. Our lips are so close to each other all I have to do is dip my head and I could taste her. The pull is too hard to resist, and I start to lower my head just as a ring sounds from her purse that is smooshed between us. She does pull away then and reaches in to grab the fucking cock blocker. “Sorry, I have to get this.”
I’m towering over her and see the name Jamie on the caller ID. I clench my hands into fists as my mind starts to wander. Is Jamie a man or a woman? Does Katie have a man? If she does, she won’t for long.
“Oh my God, no!” she says. “I told him not to get on that. His dad was supposed to fix it and never – forget it. Yes, I’ll meet you at Mercy.”
She hangs up the phone, and her eyes are wide and tormented. “Lane—my son—fell from the treehouse. I have to go.”
I grab my keys off the counter and follow behind her. We get all the way out on the sidewalk before she realizes I’m following her. “Where are you going?”
I grab on to her elbow and pull her around to the side lot where my truck is parked. There’s no way I’m going to let her drive all the way to Mercy Hospital in Jasper. “I’m taking you to the hospital. You’re in no condition to drive.”
“You’re not driving me there. You need to work. I’m fine.”
“I need to make sure you get to your son in one piece. C’mon, up you go.” I have her lifted up into the passenger side of my truck without another word from her. Before I slam the door, I tell her. “Put your seatbelt on.”
I’m not usually this bossy, but from the second I saw the look on her face when she found her son was hurt, I knew there was no way I was just going to let her go. I get into the driver’s side and spin tires pulling out of the lot. It’s almost a thirty-minute drive to Jasper, but I know I can make it in less.
“What did Jamie say exactly?” I ask, trying to get her talking.
“She said that he probably has a stable fracture of the ulna bone. It’s already swelling and painful to the touch.” She must catch my confused look because she continues. “Jamie is a nurse. We work together at the hospital.”
“How old is Lane?” I ask her, trying to keep her talking.
“He’s five years old. He was playing on the treehouse. My ex-husband has said over and over he was going to fix the railing on it, but he never did,” she says in a disgusted voice.