Page 11 of Blue

Then again, calling Dylan didn’t have to be anything. It could be something casual—just a night of fun. She was no stranger to no-strings-attached orgasms.

Mooky had started out that way.

Liar.

She’d had feelings for him before she ever fucked him.

Blowing out a puff of air, she was disgusted with herself. She hadn’t been this boy crazy since she was in high school. She could exist without a man.

But it was nice to have another suitor. If nothing else, the idea that she’d snagged a number was a boost to her damaged ego. She had options. She could move on from Mooky when she was ready.

Leaning back from her ink work, she took a deep inhale before wiping it down, clearing the blood and excess ink. Tilting her head left and then right, she scrutinized the octopus. Eight arms, check. Little suction cuppy doodads, check. Big bulbous head body thing, check. Hopefully, she got the anatomical flow right. It looked okay to her, but she drew it. Well, too late now.

“I think we’re done,” she announced as she laid the tattoo machine down without realizing he couldn’t hear her.

She reached for the lotion and applied a generous amount to the man’s new ink. As one black gloved hand swiped over the now glistening sea creature, she tapped his shoulder with the other to get his attention.

“Done,” she repeated after he pulled off his headphones and lowered his phone.

Peering down, he twisted his leg as she held a mirror so he could see better. A grin spread across his lips.

Pride blossomed in her chest. She’d made him smile. Her work had done that.

“For a newbie, you do decent tattoos,” he complimented.

Sort of. Did he have to add the qualifier? It would’ve been better had he said he was happy with the outcome. He didn’t have to mention the whole newbie bullshit. It chiseled a chunk out of her developing confidence trying to sprout.

“Thanks, I think,” she replied, doing her best to focus on the positive part and laugh.

As she lowered the mirror, he swung his leg over. Her eyes were glued to her newest piece of art she’d put on another human being. She couldn’t help but wonder what would Mooky think? What would he have said—what critique would he have offered?

“You just gotta practice, doll.” He winked. “You got potential. I look forward to getting more stuff from you when you get more established.”

“You don’t have much real estate left.” She snickered as she bandaged his leg.

A repeat client would be unheard of at this stage in her career, and she wasn’t about to say no to an offer like that.

He returned the chuckle. “I always find skin when I need to.”

Her stomach fluttered with the comment. When they met gazes, he offered her a charming smile laced with intention. Heat plumed in her cheeks.

Rising to her feet, Blue nodded, feeling rather awkward in the face of what she assumed to be flirting. It’d been a while since anyone had done that with her in Mooky’s shop. But he didn’t know the rules.

Wait. Were they still the same?

Fuck.

Somehow, things were more complicated now.

Clearing her throat, she brushed it off, pretending he wasn’t interested, and launched into the unnecessary aftercare instructions. The man had, maybe, two inches of skin that wasn’t tattooed. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was take care of his ink after he’d been stuck.

Bless that man, he sat there and gazed upon her like she gave the most thought-provoking and enthralling speech. One day, someone would actually need those words. And when it came, she’d deliver them with confidence from all this practice.

When done, she escorted him to the door. Out of her periphery, she spotted Dash chatting with Stella at the front desk. His smile, rare as it was, was infectious. She returned it, even though it wasn’t directed toward her.

After her client left with promises to sacrifice more skin to her cause, she sidled up next to Dash and rested her elbows on the glass counter.

“Hey,” she greeted as she glanced between the two.

---