Page 7 of Challenged By the Ex-Military Tattoo Artist

"Before we finalize anything, there is one other idea I wanted to run by you," Max speaks up as I'm retrieving the rental agreement forms.

I pause, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Oh? What did you have in mind?"

He leans back against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"Well, in addition to setting up my tattoo station here, I was thinking it could be mutually beneficial to offer some custom products."

"Custom products?" I echo, brow furrowing slightly. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Embroidered patches, fabric art pieces, that kind of thing," Max clarifies. "Your crafting expertise combined with my artistic talents and client base could open up some unique offerings."

I mull this over, tapping my pen against the clipboard. On one hand, it would be venturing outside my usual handicraft offerings. But novelty items could also attract a new subset of customers.

"It's an interesting idea," I admit slowly. "Though it would require a fair bit of coordination between us on design and production."

Max gives me a look I can't quite decipher.

"I'm sure we could figure out an efficient workflow if we put our heads together. Literally and figuratively."

Is he...no, surely I'm reading too much into that last comment. I press on in a businesslike tone.

"Well, let's focus on getting your space set up first. Then, if there seems to be a demand, we can re-visit the custom products idea down the line." I slide the paperwork across the counter towards him. "For now, we should finalize your rental terms."

He accepts the forms, though there's the faintest crease between his brows as he flips through the pages. With great effort, I keep my eyes averted from the shift of muscles in his forearms as he reviews each section.

"Everything looks standard," Max finally remarks, reaching for the pen I've set out. "No issues from my end."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding as he scrawls his signature on the dotted line.

This is really happening - I'm officially renting space to a flirty tattoo artist. Part of me still can't quite believe it.

"Don't look so tense," Max rumbles, and my gaze snaps up to meet his. "This is just the beginning for us."

There's that indecipherable look again, heavy with what seems lust, but I can’t be sure. I give myself a mental shake - I can't keep reading into every little thing he says or does.

"Right, of course. I'll make copies of this for both of us to keep on file." I take the paperwork back hastily.

As I turn away, I can't shake the feeling that Max's weighted stare is following me. I have a sneaking suspicion this arrangement is anything but "just business" to him.

Whether that's a good or bad thing, however, remains to be seen.

"So, when do you want to start moving your equipment and supplies in?" I ask once I've made copies of the rental agreement, focusing on the logistical details.

Max shrugs one broad shoulder, "No time like the present if you've got availability now."

I think it over. I don't have any major orders or workshops scheduled, so aside from keeping the shop floor tidy, my afternoon is relatively free.

"I can definitely clear out some time to get you settled," I tell him. "Do you need any help transporting or unloading things?"

He shakes his head.

"I've got it covered, but I appreciate the offer."

I give him quick instructions, then busy myself straightening up the front counter displays while Max ducks outside. Through the large front windows, I can see him disappear around the side of the building, likely heading to his vehicle to retrieve whatever he’ll be needing.

The bell above the door jingles a short while later as he re-enters, arms laden with a heavy-looking storage tote. I move to take it from him instinctively.

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