Page 33 of Hold the Line

When we reached Jett’s workstation at the rear of the building, Phoebe hesitated. “Are you sure you want me back here? I can wait up front if you’d rather—”

I caught her wrist before I’d known I was going to reach out, and once I’d closed my fingers around the softest skin I’d ever felt, I wasn’t in a hurry to let go.

“Stay. I’m sure Jett’ll find talking to you a lot more entertaining than just me.” And if she went back to the front, I had no doubt that scuzzy, rat-faced guy would slide right next to her again.

“All right. I’d love to watch.”

I forced my fingers to open and let them slide down the front of her hand. My lungs seized as she rotated her wrist to put us palm to palm. I looked at her. Her eyes were on Jett as he readied his station, but her lips were curved in a small, secret smile.

My index finger twitched, and hers curled, hooking around mine. Her nail grazed the inside of my finger in steady, purposeful movements I felt in my gut, brain, chest…everywhere. Like my nerves had been miswired and she was tripping them again and again.

Felt like I should’ve said something. Or maybe twined my fingers with hers to make her understand just how much I liked what she was doing. Anything other than standing stock-still, staring at the side of her pretty face.

“All right. I’m all ready for you,” Jett announced, prompting Phoebe to let go of her featherlight hold.

Like it had never happened, the moment we’d been having, whatever it was, was done and dusted.

Chapter Fifteen

Phoebe

Ihadnevergiventattoos much thought. None of the men I’d dated in the past had had more than one or two at most, and I hadn’t paid them any attention. But when Deacon Slater whipped his shirt off, my tongue got stuck to the roof of my mouth. Not only were his arms fully sleeved, but across his chest was the silhouette of the Rocky Mountains and unraveled spools of barbed wire running down his sides to the ridges of his hips. It was beautiful work, to be sure, but the fact that it was on Deacon’s body made my knees feel like jelly.

He lay down on Jett’s table, his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Jett winked at me when he caught me staring. I wasn’t embarrassed, though. If I were lying in front of Deacon with my shirt off, I hoped he’d be staring too.

Jett got to work on touching up Deacon’s side piece, low music playing in the background. I asked Jett questions about his business and tattoos in general. He was easy to talk to and enthusiastic about sharing his knowledge. He also seemed to enjoy hyping Deacon up.

“Met him at a show. He came into the shop I used to work at the next day and showed me his measly portfolio. Even back then, the kid had talent.” Jett rolled away on his stool to grab a paper towel then returned, bending his head to keep going. “I thought he was full of shit, though. Never figured he’d really follow through on building all the cabinetry for this place.”

“I wanted a tattoo,” Deacon muttered. “’Course I followed through.”

Jett chuckled. “Yeah,onetattoo for all that work. I’d said no, brother, you’re getting sleeves. Then he built my mom a vanity, so I inked his sides. The chest piece was payment for the molding he installed. Never been to a tattoo shop with fucking molding. Customers are always noticing it too. Details like that set us apart. Top-notch art and nice as hell environment.”

I tipped my head back to study the crown molding. It was the same hue as the wooden furniture with ornamental detailing. It looked so nice I wanted crown molding at Sugar Rush.

I didn’t think I’d ask Deke for it, though. Knowing what I did about him, he’d try to build me a whole new shop and ask to be paid in cookies.

“Did I hear Deke is on the premises?” A woman with long, black hair stuck her head in the doorway. “No one thought to call me down here?”

Jett raised his head. “I knew you’d find your way.”

She sauntered into the space, hands on her curvy hips, focus on Deacon and Jett. Shiny ebony hair hung in loose waves over honey-brown skin decorated with classic-style tattoos. Her jeans molded to a really nice butt, and her T-shirt revealed a slice of narrow waist. It was only when she turned to the side I noticed the lines around her eyes and mouth and silver at her temples. This stunning woman had to be closer to my mom’s age than mine.

Once she’d reunited with Deke, Jett pointed me out to her, and she threw her arms around me with the same enthusiasm Jett had.

“Oh my god, you’re stunning.” She pulled back, fluffing my hair around my shoulders. “Deke’s never brought a woman around. It’s about time.”

“You are too. I’m Phoebe, by the way.”

“Giselle, sweet thing. Though most of the guys around here call me Mama.” She jerked her thumb toward Jett. “I only birthed one kid but managed to be a mom to a dozen.”

I grinned. “Nice to meet you.”

Deacon stayed quiet, his lips rolled in a tight line, eyes on the ceiling. I had a feeling all this hustle and bustle was taking him out of the zone he needed to be in to get through the pain.

“Is there somewhere I could grab something to drink nearby?” I asked Giselle.

“Sure is. I’ll take you.” She slipped her arm around mine. “Phoebe and I are going to get drinks. We’ll be back in a bit. Don’t trash the place while we’re gone,” she singsonged, pulling me with her to a coffee shop down the block.

---