Page 17 of Ink & Desire

Today, Jessie and Noah are working alongside me in the shop. I’m lucky that the three of us get along as well as we do, especially working in such close quarters. Even if you count Jessie’s constant need to irritate the shit out of me, I know things could be a hell of a lot worse. The first piercer I hired hated my guts and didn’t even try to hide it. She left for another shop after four months, thankfully. For a while afterward, I got by doing the piercings myself. I’m licensed to do it, after all. But I don’t enjoy it as much as tattooing. I also lost out on a lot of business because many of my clients didn’t want a man piercing them below the waist. Which is fair. Luckily, Jessie seems to have built a rapport with men and women alike. I haven’t had a single complaint about her skills as a piercer. Plus, it frees up more of my time so I can stick to doing what I love.

By three o’clock, I’ve already seen two clients. One was a woman getting an ex’s name covered with a large floral piece. The other was here for another session on his sleeve. Not a bad start to the day. Jessie and I are eating a late lunch before my next client arrives when I hearthe bell above the door ring. Noah is currently tattooing a client, and I have another half hour before my client is due to arrive. I look at Jessie, but she just shrugs and sighs.

“I’ll go see who it is,” she says, lowering her sandwich back to her plate.

“No, I got it,” I say, already standing. “Finish your lunch. If they want a piercing, you want me to have them wait?”

She takes a bite of her sandwich and nods. “Tell them it’ll be 20 minutes,” she says around a mouthful of food.

“Didn’t you ever learn it’s rude to talk with your mouth full?” I tease as I pass her on my way to the front of the shop.

Jessie just flips me the bird and continues eating. I’m still smiling when I walk through the door and into the public part of the shop, but that smile dies quickly when I see who’s standing at the counter. If it isn’t the naughty angel herself.Avery.I feel a little thrill shoot through me at the sight of her. That annoys me, so I tamp it down and paste an indifferent look on my face as I look her over. She’s wearing jeans again, but this time her shirt is blue. Her dark hair is down, falling in a straight curtain to her shoulders. Her expression is guarded, but it’s easy to understand why. I made it clear last time she was here that she’s not welcome back.

I know she’s probably here to get her sketchbook, but there’s a small part of me that’s just a little excited to see her again. Even if she is a liar. It takes me a secondto notice there’s someone else with her. A short redhead wearing designer jeans and a fascinated expression peers around the shop. They’re both so obviously out of place here that I almost laugh. This must be another bored, rich friend of hers.

“Come to try and lie your way into a job again?” I say as I approach the counter.

Avery’s gaze flies to mine and I can see the moment she squares her shoulders, as if preparing to do battle. Damn if it doesn’t turn me on, just a little.

“No,” she says, doing her best to look down her nose at me, even though I’m at least a foot taller than she is. “I’m here for my sketchbook,” she says, her voice stiff and impersonal.

I admire her for trying to take the high ground from the start. Too bad for her, I don’t care about the high ground. I give her a confused look as if I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“What sketchbook?” I ask.

I see a flash of fear in her eyes before she quickly masks it with a defiant scowl. “The one I left yesterday? About this big?” She holds her hands out in front of her to indicate the size of the book. “You had to have seen it. I forgot it when you threw me out yesterday.”

“Oh, you mean when you came here under false pretenses, wasted my time, and lied to me about wanting a tattoo? Is that when you allegedly left this sketchbook of yours?”

Her nostrils flare and I can see anger flash in her eyes now. It doesn’t take much to push her buttons. The thought nearly makes me smile. I don’t know what it is about this woman, but being able to rile her seems to be the highlight of my day so far.

“I wasn’t lying about wanting a tattoo,” she says stiffly. “I just don’t know exactly what I want or where I want it, yet.”

I roll my eyes. “Sure,” I scoff. “Because pampered, rich girls like you always want to let someone like me ink them.”

“Someone like you?” she asks, brows raised. “An asshole, you mean?”

I hear the redhead try and fail to muffle a laugh behind her and narrow my eyes. “I see you brought back-up this time.” Leaning across the counter toward her, I lower my voice. “What’s the matter? Afraid I might make good on that threat from last night?”

Her eyes flare again with something like anger, but there’s another kind of heat in them. The same one I saw last night when I’d had her delicate throat in my hand. My hand flexes at the memory of being wrapped around her neck, feeling her pulse flutter against my fingers as she’d tried to remain unaffected. And now my dick is hard. Fuck.

Avery finally manages to scoff and roll her eyes. “In your dreams. I just need my portfolio, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

That thought should relieve me. Never seeing her again is what I want, right? She’s a liar, and the kind of woman who looks down her nose at someone like me who’s covered in tattoos and barely finished high school. I should be tossing her sketchbook at her and ushering her out the door as quickly as possible. I should be hoping to never see her again. But something makes me hesitate. For some reason, I want to keep riling her for a little longer. I want to keep pushing her buttons and see how far she’ll go before she snaps. So far, she’s been full of sassy comebacks, matching me every time. Few people try that when it comes to me. It’s interesting to watch.

“You’ll have to make an appointment,” I say. “I’m incredibly busy.”

Her mouth drops open in shock, and this time my mouth does twitch up into an amused grin.

“I just need my portfolio,” she says, her voice even, but growing harder in tone. “I don’t need to take up any more of your time.”

I shrug, glancing at my watch. “You’ve already taken up too much of my time today.”

Her eyes narrow and she speaks through gritted teeth. “If you’d have just given me my property the first time I asked, I’d have been gone already.”

She’s right, I know. I’m the one prolonging this encounter. But, in my defense, it’s fun. I enjoy seeing her face heat with an angry blush. I like the way her eyes flash with annoyance. And damn it, I like the way she doesn’t back down. She’s tougher than I expected.

I’m dimly aware that the buzzing of Noah’s tattoo machine has ceased, and I wonder if Avery and I have become the main attraction in the shop. Not that I care. She’s the one who’s here without an appointment, taking up my valuable time. Sure, it’s my lunch break, but she doesn’t know that.

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