by Nicole James
She nodded.
Liam moved toward the house, and her eyes shifted to the garage. She stood rooted to the spot, unsure how Jameson would receive her. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage and headed toward him.
As she came into the dim garage, it took her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. When they did, she realized he was shirtless. Her eyes slid over him; he was covered in colorful ink. Covered. Normally, she would have found it unattractive, but on him, it worked. Holy hell, did it work. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. That is, until he barked at her.
“What are you doing here?”
“I—”
“Shouldn’t you be at the shop?”
“It’s my dinner break.”
“And you’re here why?”
“Liam brought me out.”
“I saw who brought you out. What I want to know is why?”
He was being a bear. She’d half expected this. Lifting her chin, she mustered the courage to swallow her pride and say what she’d come to tell him. “This morning, when I walked in on you… I’m sorry. I had no idea we had customers in the shop. The door had been unlocked, the lights were on, but I couldn’t find anyone.”
“So you barged into a private room.”
“I’m not trying to make excuses. I’m so sorry. I never would want to embarrass a customer, especially—”
“Especially, what?
“Liam told me about the appointment. I mean, afterward. Not before.”
Jameson picked up a pack of cigarettes and shook one out, then dug in his hip pocket, coming up with a lighter. Flicking it on, the flame arced high, illuminating his face as he dipped his head, drawing on his cigarette until it flared to life. His eyes pierced into hers like blue lasers the entire time.
“That’s bad for you, you know,” she murmured.
He blew a plume of smoke out with a glare, and she could feel the anger radiating off him from across the six feet that separated them.
“That it?”
She could see he wasn’t going to make this easy. She felt bad, but he was not being very receptive of her apology. “I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. And I’ll send the woman a note telling her the same.”
He sucked another deep drag off his cigarette, his eyes drilling into hers. “Save it. She wouldn’t be happy to have you track her down. She wanted privacy. Anonymity. Not half the shop knowing she was there or the reason why. That hard for you to understand?”
“No, of course not. I—”
“Just wanted to apologize. Right. Well, you’ve done that. Now go.” He lifted his chin toward the house.
She dropped her head and stepped back, then walked to the house. She couldn’t make him accept her apology; she could only offer it.
***
Jameson watched her go. He’d treated her like shit, he knew that, and part of that was a defense mechanism. When her eyes had dropped to his chest, and her pupils had dilated—her eyes wide as she’d gazed at him, her lips parting as she’d inhaled sharply—he couldn’t deny it had affected him. The sound had made his dick hard, pressing against the zipper of his jeans, and all he could think about was sliding his hands underneath that curvy ass of hers, placing her smack dab on the hood of the car, and fucking her right there and then. He’d noticed the jeans she wore today, faded denim that hugged her body from hip to knee. They looked good on her. Damn good.
What the hell was wrong with him? Seems lately, screwing her was all he could think about. His eyes dropped, and he watched her hips sway as she walked away. Then he sent the cigarette arcing into the air and turned back to take out his frustration on the metal of the car frame.
Chapter Eleven
Two days later, Ava was at the counter, Max was working on a client, Liam was on dinner break, and Rory, who was late getting back from an out of town gig, hadn’t made it in yet. A young girl walked in the door dressed in a dark hoodie that was pulled over her head. Bright pink hair peeked out the side. She was thin and frail with pale skin and big eyes. She had a timid way about her as she approached the counter.
Ava tried to put her at ease with a big smile. “Hi, welcome to Brothers Ink. Are you here for an appointment?”
The girl nodded, and then slowly pushed the hood back, saying quietly, “I have an appointment with Rory at 5:00 p.m.”
Ava pulled the calendar up on the computer. Sure enough, there was the appointment. Knowing Rory wasn’t in the shop, she stalled for time, having the girl fill out the necessary paperwork and checking her ID, all the while trying to come up with what to tell her. She finally smiled up at the girl, “If you’ll please have a seat, I’ll see if he’s ready for you.”
As the girl sat down, Ava walked back through the tattoo stations. She could see that Max was nowhere near finished with his client, so she headed up the stairs to Jameson’s office. She entered the loft and moved toward his desk. He stood with his back to her, staring out the window. His cell phone was in his hand and the call was on speaker. He glanced over his shoulder at her approach, but continued with his conversation. She stood quietly waiting for him to finish.
“Thought you were coming straight here when you got back to town,” Jameson said.
The reply came over the speaker, and Ava recognized it immediately as Rory’s voice.
“Nah, we got a late start. Won’t make it back for a couple of hours.”
Jameson shook his head. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“Thought you knew, Bro.”
“Sorry, I let the guy I pay to tail your every move and keep me informed have the day off. Something at his kid’s school, I think,” Jameson said, sarcastically and Ava fought to hold back a smile.
“You’re hilarious. Ha ha,” came Rory’s response.
Jameson’s brows shot up. “What I am is pissed.”
“Be there as soon as I can.”
Jameson tossed the phone on the desk, his eyes connecting with hers. “What can I do for you?”
“Um, there’s a girl here for Rory. She has a 5:00 with him. He’s not even close, is he?”
“Nope. He’s still two hours out.” He slid his hands into his pockets.
“Okay. Should I try to reschedule her then?”
Jameson glanced at his watch, twisting his wrist to see the face. “No. Let me see what she wants. Maybe I can do it for her.”
He followed her down to the lobby. Ava moved behind the desk, and Jameson approached the only girl waiting. He extended his hand.
“Hi, I’m Jameson, Rory’s brother. I understand you have an appointment with him.”
Her eyes moved from Jameson to Ava as she shook his hand. “Yes. Is he here?”
“I’m afraid he’s running late driving back from Denver. But I’d be happy to take the appointment if you’re okay with it. I’m pretty good.”
She glanced up at the magazine covers framed on the wall. “Um, yes I know, it’s just, Rory knew what I wanted and—”
“How about you come on back, and we’ll go over what you want? I’ll sketch something out, and if you don’t like it, you can reschedule with Rory?”
“Well, um…I suppose that would be all right.”
Jameson led the girl back to a station.
Ava watched out of the corner of her eye as he helped the girl into the chair, and then rolled a stool over to her. Ava couldn’t hear their conversation, but she watched, fascinated at how gentle Jameson was with the timid girl. He listened intently to her, smiling and chatting and trying to put her at ease. Finally, after some discussion between them, Ava saw the girl slowly pull the sleeves of her hoodie up, revealing her wrists.
Jameson stared down at them a long moment, and then he reached up, taking one in his hand and tenderly brushing his thumb across the inside, just above her palm. Ava could tell even from a distance that something deep and important was transpiring between them. She frowned, wondering what tattoo the girl was getting. Perhaps it was in memory of a loved one whom she’d lost.
Ava thought it was always sad when people came in for tattoos honoring someone’s memory. Whenever the ink was finished, they were usually in tears looking at it and all it represented.
An hour or so later, Jameson walked the girl up to the counter. When the girl reached into her pocket and pulled out some bills, Jameson waved her off, refusing the payment. Then he escorted her to the door. He murmured something quietly, and hugged her. She smiled and nodded at something he said, and then turned and left.
Ava looked away when he turned back, not wanting to appear to be watching, but as Jameson strode past her desk, he snapped, “When Rory gets in, tell him I want to fucking see him!”
She stared wide-eyed after him as he stalked off. What had caused the sudden change? One minute he was soft and tender toward the young girl, the next he was pissed as all hell. She dropped her eyes from Jameson’s retreating back and connected with Max’s gaze. He stared knowingly into hers, but said nothing, then returned his attention to his customer.
An hour later, Rory made it in. He glanced toward Ava with a greeting and a smile.
“Hey, sweets.”
She stopped him as he passed. “Rory, Jameson wants to see you.”
He paused, frowning.
“You missed your 5:00 appointment.” Ava looked down at the release the girl had filled out. “A girl named Mariah. Jameson took the appointment for you.”
Rory’s eyes slid closed. “Shit.”
Ava studied him. “He seemed a little upset.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I better go talk to him.”
She watched him stop to talk quietly with Max. They exchanged a few hushed but heated words. Ava frowned, wondering what in the world it was all about.
Liam was just finishing with the last customer in the shop, and he walked the man up to the counter to pay. It distracted her from the drama going on around them. When she’d collected the money and the customer had left, she could hear the sounds of a muffled argument drifting down the stairway from Jameson’s office. She couldn’t make out the words but could hear the raised voices. She caught Max’s eyes, and he walked over to her.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. They’ll work it out.”
“Work what out? Why is Jameson so upset?”
Max leaned his forearms down on the counter, rubbing his palms together. “The tattoo Jamie did for that girl, the one he had to take because Rory wasn’t here?”
“Yes, what about it? He seemed really good with her, and she seemed pleased with the work he’d done. I mean, I didn’t actually see what it looked like, but—”
“I’m sure she was happy with the work. That’s not the problem.”
“What, then? He was mad he had to cover for Rory and take his appointment?”
“It wasn’t that he had to take Rory’s appointment; it was the type of tattoo the girl asked for. He just wasn’t prepared for that.”
She frowned. “A wrist tattoo? Aren’t those pretty common?”
“She was getting it to cover some scars.”
“Okay. So? That’s not all that uncommon, is it?”
“No. Not saying it is. But these…”
“It didn’t bother him to tattoo that other woman’s scar. Why is this so different?”
“Because the scars she wanted covered were marks from where she’d attempted suicide.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Yeah.”
“And that’s why he was upset?”
“Well, she isn’t the first girl who’s had scars like that. I think it brought back some bad memories for him. Remember I told you about Crystal, the receptionist we used to have?”
“Yes.”
“She was the last one he’d tattooed scars like that for.”
“Really? She’d tried to kill herself?”
“That stuff happened before she started working here. She hid the scars under bracelets for the longest time. Finally, Jameson got her to talk about it. I think it was one of the things that drew them together, her opening up to him like that, trusting him enough to share that story with him.
“I see. That must have been difficult for her.”
“Yeah. Anyway, he hasn’t tattooed anyone with scars like hers since then. He avoids them. Too painful, I guess. So, you see, taking that appointment, not realizing what kind of tattoo that girl was going to want, he wasn’t prepared, and I’m sure it hit him hard.”
“He was so good with the girl. I mean, the way he treated her.”
“Yeah, Jamie has a way with customers, especially women, especially nervous ones. I know maybe you haven’t seen him do many tattoos, but he has a way of making them feel at ease. He talks them through it, distracting them from their fear.”
She looked toward the staircase. She felt bad he’d been shoved into that appointment without being prepared for what he was walking into. She could understand why he’d be upset with Rory. But, more than anything, she admired the way he’d handled the girl, never letting her see the anger or that it had hit so close to home for him. And then not taking her money, and that moment at the door, the way he’d hugged her, and gotten a smile from her…
She realized she was starting to see a whole new side to the man.
Chapter Twelve
Jameson eyed the plastic collection jar on the counter. It was midafternoon, and he finally had time to come down from his office; he’d spent the entire morning catching up on bills and going over bank statements. “What the hell is that?”
Liam swiveled it around so Jameson could see the handwritten label.
Cuss Jar.
“It’s Ava’s,” Liam explained.
“What the fuck is a Cuss Jar?”
“You swear, you gotta put a buck in the jar. It’s for charity. Since you walked up, you’ve cussed twice, so ante up two bucks, Jamie.”
“Are you shittin’ me? You guys going along with this?”
“Yup. And now you owe three.”
Jameson dug in his pocket and pulled out a twenty. “Here, I’m sure I’ll use that before the night’s over.” He watched as a huge grin split Ava’s face. Then he rolled his eyes and stalked off.
She called after his retreating back. “Hey, how come you can roll your eyes and I can’t?”
“Because I’m the boss and you’re not. And don’t you forget it, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that!” she yelled after him.
His voice echoed down the stairs. “Too late, I already did.”
Max and Liam both chuckled at their bickering and sauntered back to their stations.
***
A couple hours later, Rory came in the front door. He peered into the tip jar loaded with bills. “Whoa! Who put the twenty in?”
“Jameson. He’s paying ahead for the night.”
Rory chuckled. “How much credit does he have left?”
Ava tilted her head to the side, eyeing the ceiling as she considered. “Hmm. He’s got about three bucks left.”
Rory burst out laughing. “Your poor virgin ears.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll survive.”
“No doubt.” He eyed the jar. “Your charity is really cleaning up, huh?”
“That it is.” She slid the jar toward him. “Care to contribute?”
He dug in his pocket and pulled out a five. “Let me know when this runs out.”
She giggled. “Oh, you can count on it.”
He slapped the counter, winked at her, and walked off.
***
Ava was in the break room halfway through her dinner break when she heard angry raised voices coming from the front of the shop. Frowning, she got up and peered out the door.
There was definitely arguing coming from the lobby. She walked cautiously up, standing in the background only to observe Jameson dividing his attention between Rory and some girl.
Ava’s eyes swept over the girl, taking her in from head to toe. She looked like a groupie. Her jeans rode low on her hip, her red hair hung in tan
gles down her back. Her makeup was heavily applied, and she looked strung out on something.
Jameson got right in her face.
“Sweetheart, look in my fucking eyes and hear what I’m saying. The last thing my brother is doing is going back to Utah with you. I don’t care how fucking fantastic a time you think you had with him or how rich your daddy is. Understand?”
She put her hands on her hips and stared over at Rory. “Rory, are you coming or not?”
“Not,” Jameson bit out. “Now get the fuck out.”
“Fine!” She stomped toward the door, flung it open, and turned to glare at Rory.
He made a move to go after her, but Jameson put a hand in his chest, pushing him back. “Don’t even think about it.”
She stormed off, and Jameson turned back to Rory. “She’s nothing but a fucking druggie and a gold digger. Thinks she’s going to hitch her crazy train to you hoping you’ll hit the big time. She ain’t worth it, Rory. She’ll only drag you down.”
Rory shoved Jameson’s hand away, but kept his mouth shut and stormed back to the break room.
Jameson called after him, “I hope to hell you wore a goddamn condom.”
Rory flipped him off and kept walking.
Ava watched Rory go as he passed her, and then she turned back to Jameson. She saw the truth. Yes, the girl was probably a bad influence Rory didn’t need in his life, but that wasn’t what scared Jameson the most. Ava would bet her next paycheck on it. What Jameson was really afraid of was that she’d pull his brother away and break up his family.
“Jameson, you can’t decide that for him—”
He whirled, pointing a finger at her. “You try and come between me and my brothers and I’ll show you the door as well, sweet-cheeks, and your Gala be damned.”
She’d put up with his temper long enough, and suddenly she had the backbone to finally tell him off.
“You can’t control everyone!”
“Stay out of this. And don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m your boss, or have you forgotten that?”
