Page 190 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

I snap out of my salacious thoughts. “We’d better sign the paperwork so you can head home. I have a client coming at seven.”

She tucks her long, brown hair behind her ear and that vision of my hand tangled in it hits me right between the eyes. “Yeah, sure. I don’t want to hold you up.”

I hold out my hand toward my office and she leads the way. My eyes drop to the curve of that sweet ass of hers and I bite my bottom lip.

She’s too fucking young for you. Stop looking at her ass.

She takes her seat opposite my desk and I pull out the folder I prepared earlier today with everything I need. I explain everything and she completes her details—even showing me her birth certificate—and signs her name on the dotted line with an artistic flourish.

“We’re closed Sunday and Monday. Open ’til seven Tuesday and Wednesday and ’til ten Thursday through Saturday nights, unless I have a fight or a late booking. We open at ten every day.” She nods, biting her bottom lip. “I don’t have a receptionist after six. We turn on the answering machine and catch up on any calls in the morning. So, I’ll need you here Tuesday through to Saturday, nine forty-five ’til six.” She nods again, but she’s a little more relaxed. Maybe she didn’t like the idea of the late evenings. “Some nights you may need to stay later, but we’ll sort that out as we go. Any questions?”

She looks conflicted, but shakes her head. “When can I start?”

“As soon as possible. How much notice do you need to give your current employer?”

“I gave my notice this morning. Marina’s thrilled that I’ve landed the job of my dreams and said they’d manage if I needed to start right away.”

For the first time today, a grin touches my lips and my shoulders drop an inch or two. “Great. How about Tuesday?”

Her smile is genuine except for the red paint on her lips. “Tuesday’s perfect. Thank you so much for this opportunity. I promise you won’t regret it.” She stands and holds her hand out across my desk, so I stand, too.

“I hope not.” I engulf her small hand with my much larger one and that same spark of energy bursts up my arm and spreads across my chest.

Creases form between her brows. “You keep saying that. Why did you offer me the job if you’re not convinced?” She pulls her hand away and I want to reach across and take it again.

I consider my answer and watch her squirm a little as she waits. “I need someone who could take a station and tattoo from day one. I have bookings backed up for months. But I couldn’t ignore your talent and enthusiasm for the job. We need to get you up to speed fast. Do you think you’re up for the challenge?”

She nods enthusiastically and tucks her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, pushing her tits out. “Absolutely. I know I can do this.”

I nod. “See you Tuesday. Don’t be late.” She frowns, but turns on her heel. “Oh, and Sophie.” I wait until she turns back to face me. “Welcome to the team.”

Creases form at the corners of her eyes. “Thank you. You’ll never know how much this opportunity means to me.”

She drops her head and leaves my office and I fall into my chair, pushing my hair out of my face. This job seems to mean a lot to her and if I can work with her to reach her potential, she’ll be a kick-ass tattoo artist.

Five

Sophie

Nine thirty-five stares up at me when I glance at my phone. I was determined to get here early since Lincoln thinks I’ll struggle to be on time. I have a point to prove and I’m going to do everything I can to show him he didn’t make a mistake when he hired me.

Telling Dad I started at nine-fifteen to allow myself enough time to change on the way here was tough. I hate lying to him, but what’s another lie on top of the biggest of them all? I’m not sure what’s going to happen when he finds out what my new job is—because he’ll eventually find out. I only hope by then, I’ll be a tattoo artist with a reputation for doing incredible work and he’ll be proud of me.

I push the door but it’s locked, so I knock on the glass and peer into the dark interior. When nobody answers after a few moments, I knock louder because maybe they’re in the back office. I noticed a fancy coffee machine in the tiny kitchen area on Friday, so I’d guess they start their day there. Disappointment grows when there’s still no answer. Stepping back from the building, I peer down the street and wonder if there’s an entrance around the back. Heading toward the alley between two buildings, I make my way down it, ignoring the trash and wrinkling my nose at the powerful stench of urine. God, people are gross. The alley opens up to a parking lot, and it’s easy to find the door to Fine Line since it matches the rest of the place. There’s a burnt orange Chevelle parked in one of the bays, so I knock on the back door. Heavy footfalls sound on the polished concrete inside, and I blow out a breath to settle my nerves. When the door opens, my hot new boss is standing there. His bright blue eyes latch onto me and his eyebrows shoot up.

I focus solely on his face to stop my gaze from wandering down his fit body, which would be completely inappropriate. “Morning.” I smile past my nervousness.

“Morning,” he mumbles as he steps aside to allow me in.

“I knocked at the front door but there was no answer, so I thought I’d try my luck here,” I explain as I step past him. His soft cedar scent wafts around me, calming me slightly. “Is there somewhere I can leave my purse, and where would you like me to start?” I ask.

He chuckles and the raspiness of it makes a direct hit in my lower belly. Crinkles form at the corner of his eyes and creases bracket his mouth beneath his stubble, which has a few white hairs here and there. “Slow down, Shortcake.” Shortcake? I narrow my eyes at him and he waves his hand down the length of my body with raised brows. “You’re short.” Ugh! I know he’s head and shoulders taller than me, but I’m not that short. I mean, maybe I am. I’m only five foot … five-five if I’m wearing my favorite boots. He waves his arm out toward the coffee machine. “Make yourself a cup and we’ll go through the expectations for today.”

The machine is straightforward, so I make myself a coffee in a spare cup I find at the back of the cupboard—note to self, bring a cup from home—and plonk down in the chair opposite Linc’s desk. Taking my first sip, I close my eyes in appreciation. When I open them again, Lincoln is watching me with a hint of amusement.

“That first sip is always the best.” I nod and watch him take a sip of his coffee, admiring the movement of his Adam’s apple beneath his dark stubble. He studies me closely, and I barely resist squirming under his intense oceanic gaze. “How are you feeling about today?”

My shoulders drop and my cheeks lift. “Nervous-excited but ready to get started and learn all the things.”

---