Page 21 of Euphoria

“I’m just having this area filled in,” he said, pointing to his arm sleeve. “Ink came up with the color scheme and that’s what we were supposed to work on today.”

“Got it,” Cynthia said. “Be right back.” Spade watched as she disappeared to the back again and he could hear her and Ink whisper arguing and he had a good idea what they were talking about—him. He was fucking everything up.

She came back to where he sat, holding the artwork that Ink had come up with. “Ready?” she asked.

“Sure,” Spade drawled, “I think the question here is are you ready?” She shot him a look that told him she wasn’t going to entertain his question as she pulled on her gloves.

“So, all business then?” he asked.

“Yep,” Cynthia said. “That’s how this works. You’re my client and I’m your tattoo artist for the next few hours.”

He knew that he was taking a chance, and maybe even being a bit careless, but he just couldn’t help himself. “What are you doing after you’re done being my tattoo artist?” he asked.

“I have another client coming in,” she said as she got her tools ready.

“Oh, well, I was thinking that you might want to have dinner with me tonight,” he said. Asking her out wasn’t a part of the plan, but he never had a plan when it came to pretty women. He usually just rolled with whatever came out of his mouth and that worked for him—sometimes.

“No thank you,” Cynthia said.

“Just like that?” he asked. “That’s all you’re going to say to my dinner offer?”

“Yep,” Cynthia said.

“Would you mind giving me a reason why you won’t go out with me? I know that we got off on the wrong foot. Hell, I talk to fucking much when I’m not nervous, but when I am, I just can’t seem to shut it off.”

“Do I make you nervous, Spade?” she asked leaning over his body to grab something from the other side of the chair. He damn near swallowed his tongue. She was toying with him, buthe honestly didn’t mind. She was at least paying some attention to him.

“Very,” he choked.

“Good,” Cynthia said. “I like that you’re a little bit afraid of me because you should be.”

“I didn’t say that I’m afraid of you,” he said. “I said that you make me nervous.”

“Yeah, I’m not seeing a difference,” she drawled. “Besides, it doesn’t matter how I make you feel, I don’t go out with clients.”

“Technically, I’m not your client,” he insisted. “I’m Inks.”

“Yet, here you are, in my chair, getting ink from me. I think that technically makes you my client,” Cynthia insisted.

“Shit,” he grumbled. “Well, then, there’s only one thing to do.” He stood from the chair and called back to Ink, “I’m going to have to reschedule, man, and the next time I come in, I want you to work on my tats.” He gave Cynthia a mock salute and walked out of the shop, not bothering to look back at her. He wasn’t sure what he had just done, but he was sure of one thing—he had probably just blown his chances with the pretty new tattoo artist.

Cynthia

Did she find the hot biker who had just walked out of the shop to be sexy as fuck—yes, but when he finally stopped talking, and she wasn’t sure what to say next because she hadn’t heard a word he said, she stood there quietly feeling awkward as hell. Honestly, all she could think about was tattooing the big guy someplace extremely private on his body, and then, she couldn’t stop thinking about him naked. He was big, had a beard, and lots of tattoos. Plus, he was a biker. She liked all those things in a man, but Spade made her girl parts stand up and pay attention, and that hadn’t happened for a damn long time.

She was an idiot for letting herself daydream about getting naked with any man, but for some reason, Spade made her think every dirty thought that she had been holding back for the past year. That was when she left her now ex-boyfriend in town, making the excuse that her parents needed her out in California. Karma stepped in, as she usually does, and boy was she a bitch. As soon as she landed in California, her phone went off like crazy. Her mother had tried to call her during the flight, and of course, she had turned off her phone. She grabbed her overheadluggage and got off the plane, immediately calling her mother. That’s when her hysterical mom told her that her father had fallen and that she needed to hurry.

Cynthia spent months taking care of her mother and father, and when they were finally better, she decided that running from her problems wasn’t who she wanted to be, so she went home to face her old life and her ex-boyfriend.

She spent weeks trying to work up the nerve to stop by Eric’s place to talk to him, but when she finally did, she was told that he had moved across town with his new wife. She should have been shocked, but a part of her wasn’t. When she was with him, she had a sick feeling that he was cheating on her, but she could never prove it, so she left. Cynthia knew that she was better off without Eric, but it still hurt.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to stay in town after hearing the news about her ex, but she ran into Ink, and he asked her to come work for him. The thought of tattooing again made her think that she could make a go of it in her hometown, and she decided to stick around. Dating was another subject altogether, so she vowed not to for at least the first year that she lived in town. She still had six months to go, and no matter how much she wanted to say yes to Spade, she didn’t.

She walked back to Ink’s office after cleaning up her area. She knew that he was going to give her some shit about Spade getting up and walking out, but that wasn’t her fault. He decided to leave, and how was she supposed to stop him?

“I take it that things didn’t go very well with Spade,” Ink said when she got up the nerve to walk back to his office. He was rocking Bethany to sleep, and she knew that getting all hot-headed about Ink razzing her would only wake the baby. Then, they’d both have to take turns with her while they worked on their afternoon clients. Not that she minded. She loved Bethany and even considered the possibility of having a baby herself,after spending so much time with her. Of course, that would be in the future—far, far in the future.

“He asked me out,” she said as though that would explain the very strange morning that she was having.

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