Page 33 of Show Me How
Ignoring that, Bryce heads across the street, leaving me here alone. I clear my throat and try to shake the tension from my muscles. With my legs spread wide, I lean over my small leather table and fidget with the order of my supplies again.
I’ve always hated wearing rubber gloves, so I’m glad when I finish and can snap them off. They fall silently into the garbage before I stand and head to the front desk.
My appointment book is somewhere under the mess of invoices and receipts that I haven’t been assed to sort the last couple of weeks. Recently, Daisy has started taking it upon herself to organize them for me, and I’m a bit nervous to mess up her system. Her fiancée might be a rottweiler, but Daisy isn’t always a golden retriever. On a rare occasion, I’ve watched them switch roles.
My head snaps up immediately at the sound of the door opening. Half expecting Bryce already, I’m pleasantly surprised to glance up and see a blonde, bright-eyed princess instead.
“Good morning, Millie,” I say, unable to help the rasp that drips from my tone.
Her spine snaps straight as she stares at me, a blush already tinting her cheeks. She shifts on her heels and pulls one leg in front of the other, crossing them.
I follow the movement, having to grit my jaw to avoid blurting out my thoughts. Despite the early October chill, this girl is still in a skirt. Even with the thin beige tights beneath them, I know she has to be cold. The long coat she’s wearing over a white blouse with a bow between her tits matches the colour of her tights, and Jesus Christ—I keep looking at her legs.
I’ve never seen legs like hers. Or maybe I have but never noticed them. I’ve got no idea why I’ve become so fascinated with the long, lean shape of them, but here I am. If I thought getting a stiffy from a few innocent texts was bad, I should be embarrassed by the one I’m sporting now.
“Good morning,” she replies coolly, her eyes focusing on everything in here but me.
I’m no fool. Her cheeks are pink because of last night, and just like I have been, she’s still thinking about it. If she wasn’t, why isn’t she looking at me the way she was yesterday?
“I wasn’t sure when to expect you today, considering you never told me before you . . . Oh, what was it that you got up to last night?”
“What?”
“What did you get so busy with last night that you couldn’t tell me when you were coming in today?” I ask.
“I fell asleep.”
“Oh, did you? That’s nice, then. I’m sure you needed a good night’s sleep,” I drawl, keeping an unbothered front.
Her gaze snags on the wall behind me, and I turn to see what she’s grown distracted by. The photo of one of my favourite pieces is a newer one and has been moved from further in thestudio to front and centre. A flaming dragon on the back of a woman whom I’ve been tattooing for the last five years.
“She let you take that photo of her?” she asks, surprising me.
“What do you mean?”
Her hand lifts, a finger pointed at the photo as if I don’t know which one she’s talking about.
“It’s—She’s . . . it’s hung up on the wall.”
“Her name is Ruby, and the pose was her idea,” I say, keeping a cautious eye on Millie’s reaction.
“She was okay with being photographed naked?”
“She’s not naked, princess. But, yes, she was very okay with being photographed in only her panties. To keep the entirety of the piece unobjected, she couldn’t wear anything above the waist, and she chose to be without pants. There wasn’t anything sexual about the pose. The focus was on the dragon.”
It’s obvious she doesn’t believe me. Her eyes are busy, providing me with an insight into her mind. It’s not surprising that she doesn’t understand. We don’t know each other well yet, and I have a feeling she knows nothing about this type of art.
“The confidence that must take is incredible,” she reveals a moment later.
“It is. Everyone has it in them, though.”
Her smile is weak. “I wouldn’t say everyone.”
I round the desk and come to stand in front of her. She follows my every move, holding herself perfectly still. Slowly, her eyes lift to hold mine.
“Feeling confident is a skill that takes time to master. Little by little, you can grow it until you’re a cocky motherfucker like me,” I tease.
The smile that breaks through her small frown is dangerous. “I don’t think I want to be that confident.”
