Fine Line (Inked Duet #1)

by Persephone Autumn

  “Will do.” Dad taps the roof before I throw the car in reverse.

  Since the trip to the tattoo shop from the garage is short, I take the ‘scenic’ route to listen better to the car. Thankfully, nothing major was wrong with the engine. Just typical wear and tear on easy-to-replace parts. Cars like the Bel Air can be more challenging to repair if it’s a major component. Engines just aren’t made how they once were. When this car was manufactured, the engine didn’t rely on hundreds of little computers and motherboards. They were solid and metal and everlasting. And their parts weren’t easy to find nowadays.

  Five miles later, I roll into the back parking lot of the tattoo shop. Shutting off the engine, I sit in the car another minute, study the silver and black upholstery, and inhale the peculiar Coke float scent.

  Every inch of this car screams Autumn. Fits her personality and the way she carries herself.

  Question is, do I? Do I fit into her lifestyle? Who she is and the life she leads.

  Because I want to. Desperately.

  Other than Cora, I never thought it possible to feel so intensely for a woman. And I never thought I would feel it so soon and easily.

  Exiting the car, I lock it up and head for the front entrance. The bell jingles when I walk in and I love the smile on Autumn’s face when she peeks up and notices my arrival. Her smile brightens the room instantly. Hey I mouth and her cheeks pink.

  I wonder if she blushes this much with other men. Hopefully not. I would like to believe she reserves the crimson heat just for yours truly.

  After I check in with the Bubble Yum queen, I pace the lobby and stare at the art on the walls. I scan each image but pay closer attention to the artist’s names on the bottom. I stop at the third piece and study it intently. The eleven-by-fourteen heavy cream paper penned with millions of small dots. Up close, I spot each pinpointed speck of ink on its own. Stepping back, the dots form the image of two people holding hands and strolling down the sidewalk. Of the two people, you only see their hands and half their forearms. When I glance down at the artist’s name, it doesn’t shock me when I see Autumn’s next to a hefty price tag.

  But the art is worth every penny.

  A finger tap on my shoulder interrupts my fascination with the art. I spin around to find Autumn. Her smile bright and shy. One-hundred-percent adorable and addicting.

  “Nice piece,” I say, pointing over my shoulder.

  Autumn glances around me and eyes the art. “Thank you. Took months to finish.” A fresh blush paints her cheeks and I love her bashful nature more.

  “No doubt. Wish I had the patience to create something so priceless.”

  She tucks her lips in her mouth and bites down to fight against her smile. Then she pops them and I can’t look away. Don’t want to look away. Her crimson lips an invitation I want to answer with a resounding yes.

  “You ready?” she asks.

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  Autumn leads us to her booth, and I don’t miss the way Bubble Yum winks and smiles as we pass. Interesting.

  I sit in the chair while Autumn preps everything. In no time, she places the stencil on my forearm. After it’s in place, I remember I still have her keys and pull them from my pocket. I set them on my lap and chance a look at her. She has been quiet. Too quiet.

  “Sorry I didn’t hand over the keys before you gloved up.”

  “No biggie,” she says and shrugs. “Why was Betsy being temperamental?”

  I love how she refers to her car as a person with an ill temper. Yet another quality to add under the adorable category. An ever-growing list.

  “Just needed to replace the starter and a couple other small parts.”

  Autumn slumps and sighs before meeting my eyes. Her brows pinch slightly and accentuate her swirly cognacs. “Sounds pricey.”

  General automotive repair racks up over time. Certain parts and repairs costing more. But repairing Autumn’s car was simple. Easier than most newer cars. The beauty of older cars is how spread out the engines are. How you don’t have to remove half or more of the engine to get to one part. Whenever Dad and I get to work on older vehicles, we savor it. Drool like idiots. Take our time to have it around longer.

  “Not at all, actually.”

  She perks up at that. “Great. Let me know how much I owe you, and we can settle up when we’re done.”

  After Dad and I finished up Autumn’s car earlier, he followed me into the office and closed the door. As I finalized the paperwork for Autumn’s car, jotting down what repairs we had done, Dad walked over and slapped his hand on top of the invoice. “No charge,” he’d said. He looked me in the eyes and shook his head. His decision was final and not up for debate.

  Honestly, I was happy to not charge Autumn. But I didn’t have the final say in waiving payment. Dad still holds the power where Thompson’s Garage finances are concerned.

  “Not a dime,” I tell her. “Dad insists. He says hello, by the way.”

  Autumn slouches and pouts.

  Fuck me running. If I don’t look away now, I will embarrass the hell out of myself. Nothing like sitting in a chair next to a beautiful woman with a hard-on while her eyes focus less than six inches away.

  Think, think, think.

  Images of my sisters pop in my head and is exactly what I need. Nothing like siblings to kill any sort of mood.

  “Well, I’ll have to repay him. Bake him a cake or brownies or cookies. Does he like any of those?” she asks.

  “All of the above. He’s not picky and will love whatever you make. Thanks.”

  “For what?”

  For existing, I want to say, but bite my tongue. “It’s a generous thing to do. Most wouldn’t.”

  She nods. “Well, I’m not most people.”

  This much I have figured out.

  For the next twenty minutes, I close my eyes and lay back while she starts on my tattoo. For the first time, I don’t enjoy the silence. I want to talk to Autumn. Ask about her life. What she does for fun. What she does when she isn’t working. Ask her to have dinner with me. Or do something she enjoys.

  For obvious reasons, I haven’t had an actual girlfriend in years. I tried. Tried to date other women while I pined over Cora. But it never worked out. Never got past the first kiss on the doorstep after our date. Because I never wanted it to.

  But now… I want it more than anything.

  Want to take her out and share a meal together. The food or restaurant doesn’t have to be fancy as long as Autumn is there. I want to hang out with friends and have her hooked on my arm. Feel her warmth against my skin and bask in her sweet perfume and infectious laughter.

  I peel my eyes open, lift my head, and glance down at her. Hunched over my forearm, she shifts my skin and runs the gun over the purple lines. I study her every move. The way she cocks her head when she scrutinizes her own work. How she leans back to see the tattoo from farther away. The way she tucks her lips in her mouth when hesitant—like she is right now.

  “What are you thinking about?” I croak.

  She sits up straighter and meets my gaze. Her eyes tell the tale of struggle. Struggle to do one thing versus another. A battle of wills.

  Her lips pop out and I swallow. “What were you going to ask me the other day?”

  I furrow my brow and tilt my head to the side. “When?”

  “On the phone. Sounded like you were going to ask me something, and you didn’t.”

  Ah, yes. Because I did have a question on the tip of my tongue. Until I caught Dad snooping. The plan was to ask if I could take her to dinner. But I chickened out when I spotted Dad ten feet away with his head leaning in close as he picked up the fender.

  “Um.” I rub the back of my neck with my free hand. “Was going to ask if you wanted to maybe grab dinner sometime.”

  I get drunk on her cognac irises as she doesn’t blink or look away. Sweat a little from the intensity of her gaze. Stop breathing when she doesn’t utter a single word in response.

 
; A guy such as myself would strike gold if Autumn agreed to go on a date. I still have so much to learn about her, but from what I have seen so far, she is a rare gem. Sparkling in the sunlight and stealing your breath.

  She parts her lips to respond, but snaps them shut a moment later. When she does it again—and again—I perk up at her speechlessness. Before I have the chance to tell her to not worry about it, she dips the gun in the ink cap and works on my arm again.

  Rejection washes over me—for a second time—as I slump in the chair.

  What exactly stops her from saying yes? This is the single, most important—and frustrating—question rattling inside my brain right now. The one that makes me question her bashfulness and blushing and frequent eye contact. The reason must be huge. Has to be. Because the chemistry between us is off the charts. At least it feels off the charts from where I sit. And there is no way this attraction is one-sided. Can’t be.

  As I lean back and rest my head against the chair, I get a quick glimpse of her smile and a blush smattering her cheeks. I close my eyes and smile like a fool—not giving a damn who sees. She may not respond verbally, but her body language gives so much away.

  The next hour breezes by as I daydream of taking Autumn on a date. Where we would go. What we would do afterward. Her warm, slender fingers woven with mine. My arms holding her close as I hug her good night. Her sweet perfume swathing me in a cocoon as I lean in to press my lips to hers.

  A chill snaps me out of my daydream as Autumn cleans my finished tattoo.

  “So jumpy,” she teases. “Might start to think you’re a virgin.” Autumn laughs, then stops once she realizes what she said. “Sorry,” she mutters. “That was inappropriate.”

  Tattoo virgin is what she meant. Not a virgin in the sex department. My virginity had been surrendered long ago in both areas. For obvious reasons, she knew I wasn’t a tattoo virgin. But Autumn had no clue about my sexual history—which isn’t extensive, but exists.

  Which is the exact reason her cheeks are currently one shade lighter than her rouge-painted lips. And I love how the intimacy of this conversation makes her squirm. Her semi-shy nature is not something often seen nowadays.

  “Would that be a bad thing?” I mean the question as a joke. But a joke she isn’t privy to yet.

  She tucks her lips in her mouth and clamps down. I want to reach forward and release her lips from their prison. But I stop myself. We don’t know each other well enough for me to do such things.

  “Um, no,” she answers softly.

  Although my tattoo is as clean as it will get right now, she continues wiping it to avert her eyes. “Autumn…”

  “Yeah?” she says, eyes still laser focused on my distal forearm.

  “Look at me,” I whisper.

  She licks her lips. “Mmhm?” Slowly, she lifts her gaze and locks it with mine.

  “There’s no need to be embarrassed.” The desire to touch her expands like a hot air balloon in my chest. And I don’t want to deny myself any longer. I reach forward with my free hand and graze the skin of her forearm near the black glove edge. Her momentary gasp trips my heart. I swallow and say, “Was only kidding.” The corner of my mouth kicks up as I draw circles over her skin with my thumb.

  “You were?” she asks, voice cracking.

  I nod and she exhales. Her bashful nature continually takes me by surprise, but I love how flustered she gets when we are near. Because she has my stomach flipping on a trampoline nonstop. “About being a virgin, yes.” She snorts quietly. “But not about wanting to ask you out.”

  Autumn peels off her gloves and tosses them in the trash. She rises from the stool and stretches. I study her a beat before standing up on stiff legs. Taking a moment, I stretch my limbs and arch my back, working out the kinks.

  Please tell me I didn’t scare her away.

  She steps in front of me and moves to exit the booth, then stops and spins to face me. Tipping her head back slightly, she homes in on my lips. When I lick them, her lips quirk up at the corners as she nods.

  “Yes,” she whispers. “I would love to.”

  What? I stop myself from sticking my fingers in my ears and wiggling them. “Yes?”

  She nods slowly as her nervous smile grows bolder and brighter. “I need to check my schedule, but yes. Can I call or text you later?”

  I want to jump on the chair and scream hell yes you can. But like the proper gentleman my parents raised me to be, I keep my feet planted firmly on the floor and answer her as levelheaded as possible. “Of course. Wednesday is family dinner night, just so you know.”

  “Cool.”

  “Cool,” I repeat and suddenly feel as if I am fifteen all over again. “Talk to you later.”

  She bites the inside of her cheek and nods. “Later.” After a cute wave, she spins on her heel and wanders back into her booth with a little extra sway in her hips.

  After I pay at the desk, I walk out the door and smile when the bell jingles. Who cares if I need to walk two-plus miles back to the garage to get my bike. Who cares if I forgot to bring a hoodie to the shop. Winter is still a few weeks away—not that the first official day of winter equals cool weather in Florida.

  The only thing I do care about is the fact Autumn said yes to a date. And the promise of a date with Autumn is enough to keep me warm and has me walking faster. Has me smiling like an imbecile. Makes my heart beat faster and my breath stutter.

  Today marks one of the happiest days of my life. A day I will never forget.

  Nine

  Autumn

  Jonas leaves the shop and I stand like a fool staring at the door for who knows how long. Staring at the place he last stood. Imagining him walking back in for no other reason than to see me.

  I agreed to go on a date with Jonas. Me. A date. An actual doll-yourself-up-for-a-guy date.

  Oh my fucking god.

  I want to cheer and scream and jump and puke all at once.

  When was the last time I was on an actual date? I would have to consult a 2013 calendar to determine the answer. And that little fact makes my stomach ball into a fist and squeeze tight. I may have sequestered myself for all the right reasons, but in doing so, I lost part of who I am. A spontaneous and vivacious woman.

  Not as if those elements aren’t still inside me. But now they have been tamped down by other qualities. Traits which currently reside in the spotlight for good reason.

  “What just happened?” Penny asks as she skips into my booth.

  I snap out of my daze and start cleaning my workstation. “Not sure what you’re talking about,” I reply, working hard to hide the smile painfully stretching my cheeks.

  “Don’t toy with my emotions, Auti. Spill. I know something happened.”

  After I drop the needles in the red bin, I peer up at her and shrug my shoulders. She widens her eyes when I hesitate and torture her a little longer. When she grunts, I decide to alleviate the torment. Because if I don’t, Penny will make a scene.

  “Jonas asked me on a date.”

  “And?” Penny steps closer, claps her hands in prayer position, and bats her eyelashes. Utterly ridiculous.

  “And…” I drag the word out and count to five before continuing. Last thing I need is Penny strangling me because I am not forthcoming. “I said yes.”

  She gasps and leans back. Slaps a hand over her heart. “You said yes,” she says in disbelief, voice decibels higher than normal. “Did I hear you correctly?”

  I ball up the paper towel in my hand and toss it at her face. “Shut up.” I laugh. “You heard what I said. Don’t be a doofus.”

  “A doofus? Really? You sound like a five-year-old.” Penny puckers her lips and cocks a brow. “Whatever.” She blows a bubble and pops the pink gum with a loud smack. “So, where’s he taking you?”

  Her question has reality setting in a little more and a buzz hums low in my belly. Jonas is taking me on a date. A real date. Out in the world. Where other people exist. Where other people sit together and e
at meals and laugh.

  Holy shit.

  “Not sure,” I whisper before clearing my throat and finding my voice. “Told him I needed to check my schedule and I’d call or text him.”

  Penny rolls her eyes. “Check your schedule? Girl, you make your own schedule.”

  “True. But I’d be an asshole if I told him a day and someone was booked on my schedule already. Not cool. Someone would end up disappointed, and you know how I feel about that.”

  She nods. “Guess you’re right. So...” She drags the single syllable into a ten-letter word. “What are you going to wear?”

  Her question stops me in my tracks. For the first time in almost a decade, restlessness blankets me. Any other day of the week, this question wouldn’t bother me. Could prattle off my ensemble in the blink of an eye. But something about dressing myself when I know it’s for a set purpose—what I imagine will be the most amazing date of my life—has me stumbling in my tracks.

  Jonas makes me stammer. For all the right reasons.

  “I have no clue.” I stare at Penny dumbstruck.

  Stepping closer, she lays her hands on my shoulders and shakes me. “Snap out of it. That’s what you have me for.” I nod. “Okay, you finish cleaning up. I’ll check your schedule for the next week and then we can game plan. Sound good?”

  “Yes.” I still can’t believe this is real.

  “Auti, I’m so excited for you.”

  I glance up at her and soak up her sunshine of a smile. Her enthusiasm has me smiling back. “Thanks. Pen?” She lifts her brows in question. “I’m going on a date,” I squeal.

  Reznor pops his head up from his client and smiles. “You know we all need to approve of him. Right?”

  Stepping up to the wall between our booths, I prop my elbows on the ledge. “Yes, big brother. But let me have a date or two first. Before you and Rex scare him away.”

  Reznor dips the needle in an ink cap and leans back over his client’s posterior ribcage. “Sure, little sis.” He smiles and returns his focus to his work.