Page 62 of Snowed In with her Mountain Men
“It can be,” I shrugged. “Plus…” I whispered, leaning into the front cab. “I can make it worth your while.”
The boys exchanged glances that were nothing more than a formality. The smirks on their faces were already back.
“Alrighty then,” shrugged Ryder, turning the wheel. “Why the hell not?”
~ 36 ~
JAXON
“And… that’s gonna have to be it, I’m afraid. For tonight, anyway.”
I wiped down the brunette’s arm, just as she finished blowing her hundredth bubble. The subject matter sucked, but the piece was sharp, the shading solid. Even the last-minute add-ons she’d asked for seemed to mesh with the background.
“Wait, hang on,” her bubble popped. “What about the roses, behind the dream catcher?”
I let out a long, aggravated sigh. It was turning out to be one of those nights.
“They weren’t in the original sketch, remember?”
“Yeah, but still.”
“And the dragonfly,” her boyfriend pointed. “Didn’t we say we were adding a dragonfly?”
“We did,” I agreed. “If we had the time.”
My eyes shifted to the window behind them, where the sky was already much darker than it should be. The flurries that started hours ago were now full blown snowflakes, and big ones at that.
“Look,” I told them. “We’re shutting it down for the night. If you’d like to come back—”
“What aboutthem?”the brunette whined dramatically. Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard. “They’re not shutting it down!”
She was pointing of course to Lily, who was still working on her client’s leg piece. Lily frowned without looking up.
“Hey, don’t point me out,” she said. “I’m leaving right after Jax. Another ten minutes, maybe. Tops.”
“Fine,” my client huffed. She whirled on me. “You have ten more minutes, then. Do the dragonfly.”
I laughed. “It’ll be arealshitty dragonfly.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d be rushing it. And I don’t rush.”
“Oh no?” her boyfriend quipped. He jerked a thumb at the door. “It sure looks like you’re rushing to get out of here.”
He was one of those tall, skinny, tough guys — all energy, no substance. The kind who can never sit still, so they’re always fidgeting and pacing around. Always aching to start trouble they can never finish.
“What?” he taunted me in a mocking voice. “You got something better to do?”
I didn’t even look at him. My hands were already going through the process of breaking down my gun, readying certain pieces for the ultrasonic cleaner, then the autoclave.
“Hey.” A very skinny, long-fingered hand clapped itself over my wrist. “Don’t pack up, you’re not done yet.”
I saw it happen clear as day — in real time, in slow motion. My opposite hand closed over his, trapping it, keeping it prisoner as I broke — no, shattered — his wrist into a milliondisjointed pieces. I heard his high-pitched wail. I saw the panic and fear in his eyes, as I shoved his broken hand directly into his face, then followed it up with a left hook that would send him reeling.
In a flash it happened. In a flash, it was over. I was back in reality again, staring down at the skinny white hand closed over my wrist. Rather than grab it, I looked up, directly into his eyes.
One look was all he needed.
