She instructed me to drive safely every damn day, and I normally mumbled an agreement before getting out of there. But today, she’d thought to add that extra oomph with the “I swear.” It felt like a threat, an attack, and I stopped with my hand on the door.
“When the hell have I ever been in an accident?” I foolishly asked, shaking my head with disgust.
Turning slowly on her heel, she cocked her head with a wash of incredulous disgust blanketing her features. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just ask me that,” she spat at me before rushing into the kitchen, leaving me alone with the gaping hole in my chest neither of us would allow to heal.
***
“You look like shit,” my co-worker and friend, Celia, eloquently pointed out as I hurried through the back door of Salem Skin.
“It’s been a fuckin’ day,” I explained gruffly, dropping my leather jacket on the back of the couch in our breakroom.
“It’s nine in the morning,” she laughed, crossing her arms and smirking.
“And that should tell you how shit’s been going for me, so don’t piss me off,” I threatened in jest.
She nodded with sympathy and tipped her head toward the front of the shop. “Well, it’s about to get even better. Girl walked in about fifteen minutes ago asking for you. Said she made an appointment with you?”
I groaned under my breath and scrubbed a hand over my chin. I’d completely forgotten about the consultation I’d scheduled with that chick, Audrey. “Oh, shit,” I muttered, shaking my head. “Yeah, we talked last night.”
Cee smirked and her eyes crinkled with amusement. “Well, good luck with that. She’s a freakin’ Barbie doll, man.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Let’s just say, I don’t envy you.”
I grumbled a thanks and left the breakroom to head toward the front of the shop. Gus, my boss, sat at the counter with an issue of ModInk in hand. He lifted his head at the sound of my heavy footsteps and nodded a greeting before shifting a glance toward the young woman sitting on the couch. With her legs crossed, one foot swinging carefree in the air, her face was downturned as she scrolled through her phone. I couldn’t discern from the angle what her features looked like, but from where I stood, it was clear she was attractive. Gus’s eyebrows raised when he looked back to me, a suggestive glint in his eyes, and I smirked as my head shook.
She might’ve been pretty, but I knew, from the pastels she wore and the pink manicure on her long nails, she wasn’t my type.
Casually stuffing my hands in my pockets, I took another step toward her. “Audrey?”
She lifted her eyes from the phone and smiled brightly at the sight of me. Hastily stuffing her phone in her bag, she rose to her feet and extended a hand. "You must be Blake! Hi! It’s so nice to meet you."
I had to bite back my chuckle as I enveloped her palm in mine. “How’s it goin’?”
“Good!” she exclaimed, nodding and pinning me to the spot with her powder blue eyes.
I would never say that I’d never seen eyes that color before—that’d make me a liar—but it was their shape and size that struck me dumbfounded. They were round and big, wide open as if she were always surprised by something. Like a deer perpetually caught in the headlights. There was something almost comical and cartoonish about them, and I might’ve even laughed, had they not suited the rest of her face so well. Her heart-shaped face and straight nose. Her full, bottom lip and the emphasized curve of her Cupid’s bow. A small, pointy chin sat just above a long slender neck, leading the way to an exposed and delicate collarbone.
I didn’t allow my gaze to wander below her neckline, I was a professional and composed myself as one. But she was the type of pretty you didn’t find yourself facing every day, and while I’d never say I was attracted to her, I couldn’t argue that she was irrefutably gorgeous.
“So, you said you had something in mind,” I said, clearing my thoughts and releasing her hand.
“Oh, yes,” she quickly replied, reaching into her bag to retrieve a piece of paper. As she began to unfold it, I spotted the colorful wings of a typical butterfly design. And somehow, I managed to quell my shudder.
“No. I don’t think this is gonna work.”
Her hands froze as those big, blue eyes met mine. “Oh, but um, I thought—”
“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I won’t do it. I’ll see if Celia wants to take a look, but otherwise, I really don’t want to waste anymore of my time. Or yours.”
From behind me, I listened as Gus cleared his throat. “Hey, uh, Blake? You wanna come chat with me for a second?”
I held in my groan, closing my eyes for a brief second, before turning. “Yeah, just give me a—”
“Actually, right now would be a really good time.” He stood from the desk, holding my glare as he headed toward his office.
Pulling in a deep breath, I groaned and made a sharp right into the closet he called an office. “What’s up?”
“Close the door, will ya?” I did as I was told and before I could get in a word, Gus continued. “Blake, I get you have your thing, and I’ve always been really cool about it. But it wouldn’t kill you to get down off your high horse. You know. Just every now and then.”
“My high horse?” I snorted, crossing my arms tightly over my chest.
“Yeah, your high horse,” he repeated, his tone sharpening. “You know I like you, Blake. I love you, even. But I gotta tell ya, refusal to work with clients is not cool. We both have bills to pay.”
“Come on, Gus,” I groaned, shaking my head. “You’re acting like I’m constantly turning people away. This chick brought in some Pinterest butterfly bullshit. Celia can do it.”
“No, but turning one away looks like shit for the whole shop,” he pointed out. “And that girl specifically asked for you, so you're gonna make an exception this one time. Now, go out there and ink the prettiest damn butterfly you've ever done.”
“You’re killing me,” I muttered, unwinding my arms and raking a hand through my hair.
“Yeah, maybe, but I’m still your boss. I’m allowed to kill you sometimes. Now, get out of here.” And I decided, in that moment, that Gus was the devil and I was repenting for my abundance of sins. I sighed and left the office without another word. Audrey was still standing where I'd left her, with her hands clasped at the edge of the butterfly print.
"Let's go," I told her brusquely as I hurried past.
"O-oh," she stammered, collecting her purse and running to keep up with me. “We’re doing it now? I thought you just wanted to look at it today.”
“It’ll be quick.” I brought her to my station and aggressively wiped down my vinyl-covered chair with disinfectant. The willpower to not be a complete jerk was excruciating. "So, where are we putting it?"
"Oh, um, I was thinking maybe my hip?"
I looked at her exhaustedly. "I want you to be absolutely certain of where you're having me put this thing. No questions, no maybes."
"I thought you would give me your professional opinion," she admitted.