by Regina Cole
“And that’s dangerous,” I whispered into the darkness. “I don’t need this complication.”
But something deep inside me wanted it. Bad. Worse than I’d ever wanted anyone else, including the few guys I’d briefly dated and thought I’d loved. In fact, they really didn’t compare at all.
Groaning, I rolled over and stuffed the edge of the pillow in my mouth. Shut up, Hailey. Go to sleep, Hailey. You have to wake up in . . . I checked the glowing green numbers of my alarm clock.
“Shit. It’s three a.m.”
Rising, I shuffled to the suite’s shared bathroom and pulled open the medicine cabinet. Grabbing the bottle of Benadryl with the handwritten label “Hailey” on it, I tapped out one of the little pink and white pills and swallowed it with a handful of water from the tap. I should be able to sleep it off before work.
I leaned over, peering through the gap in the cracked door. The narrow beam of light spilling from the bathroom fell on Jackie’s rumpled bed. Still empty.
Clicking off the light, I made my way back to bed. Just a few more hours and I’d see Neill again. Huh. I shoved my feet under the covers, rubbing them together briskly to try and warm them. I shouldn’t want to see him again. Even though looking at my hot boss might take my mind off my troubles.
I curled around my pillow, concentrating on breathing deeply and emptying my mind of everything, including my hot, tattooed boss. Within ten minutes, I couldn’t open my eyes anymore.
The fog of allergy medication had barely cleared when my alarm blared at eleven a.m. I slammed my fist down on the button, blinking blearily at the brightness of the room. Yawning, I propped myself upright on one arm and ran my fingers through my tangled mop of hair, which seemed to be stuck to my left cheek.
Jackie’s bed was still empty. That wasn’t unusual. Jackie spent most of her weekends out with friends, getting stoned out of her brain and making bad choices. She’d invited me a few times, but that really wasn’t my thing. Small groups were good, large numbers of strangers? Not so much. It was good that Sinful Skin was a small business, and so friendly that I kind of already felt like I belonged.
Speaking of which . . . I grabbed my clothes and made quick work of a shower, scrubbing my hair and conditioning the ends. Low voices came through my suitemate’s door to the bathroom, indicating that they were awake. Normally, I’d open the door and we’d all go down to the dining hall together, but today there wasn’t time. With one eye on the clock, I dressed with care, making sure to wear my nicest jeans and a sage-green tank with a deep V-neck. After blow-drying my hair and doing a quick makeup job, I grabbed my bag and hustled toward the bus stop.
My worry of the previous night returned as I passed Adams. I kicked at a leaf, resenting the memory. I just didn’t understand where he was coming from. What was so wrong with my having a job? Was Dr. Fields just some super-conservative guy with a tattoo vendetta? He hadn’t seemed that way in our conversations before. Maybe I’d read him wrong, and he truly was concerned about me stretching myself too thin. I leaned against the bus shelter, my bag covering up a big green flyer about auditions for the drama department’s production of The Trojan Women. Dr. Fields had never said a word about my social life, though, and we’d had lots of conversations about it. Sometimes I thought he knew more about my circle of friends than I did. Wouldn’t social activities have had a bigger effect on my grades than being responsible and working?
The bus squealed to a stop and I climbed on, glad to leave the wondering behind. I could figure all that out later. For now, I was looking forward to spending more time with the artists at Sinful Skin and learning my job. Tasha would be gone in a few days, and I’d be working the front desk by myself. I wanted to believe that this job was the best thing for me, and even if I wasn’t totally convinced, I wanted to do my best.
It was a beautiful day, and I couldn’t help but be cheered by the bright sunshine and puffy white clouds that flew by my bus window. As luck would have it, when I got off the bus onto the sidewalk outside Sinful Skin, Neill’s motorcycle rounded the corner. My heart did a funny little skip. I waved as he turned down the alleyway that ran alongside the building. Gravel crunched under my feet while I followed him around toward the back door of the shop. I crossed my arms and waited for him to park in the small gravel lot.
“Good morning.” Neill’s smile flashed as he cut the bike’s engine, and my stomach flipped.
“Hey.” Adjusting the shoulder strap on my bag, I returned the expression. I gestured toward the shiny black . . . well, Harley? Or something else? I wasn’t sure. “Nice bike.”
He kicked the stand into place and swung his leg over. “Thanks. She gets me where I need to go.” Removing his helmet, he revealed a brilliant blue bandana that held his dark hair away from his face.
I crossed my arms tighter in a vain attempt to keep the butterflies still. The little bastards ignored me, thumping against my belly and ribs like they were cage fighting. I followed Neill to the door, where he pulled it open and waited for me to enter, bowing like a gentleman.
“Thanks,” I said, biting my lip as I walked into the darkened shop. Neill hit the light switch on the wall behind me. Apparently, I’d gotten there earlier than I’d thought; we were the first ones there.
I stood to the side, waiting for Neill to flip the locks and enter the room. It smelled of cleaner, a pungent reminder of the late-night scrub it must have endured. He shut the door behind us and then made his way to his studio. I wondered for a split second if I should follow him; then I shook my head and walked quickly to the long front counter, dumping my bag in the cubby beneath. Though I tried to ignore Neill’s presence, I couldn’t stop the acute awareness that prickled my skin as he moved around in his studio. I pictured him putting his helmet away, organizing his equipment in the small room just across the lobby from the counter’s edge, heavy steps as he entered the break room and grabbed a bottle of water. His voice floated up my way. “Hey, can I get you anything while I’m in here?”
I shook my head, burying myself in a stack of consent forms. “Nope, I’m good.”
He appeared a moment later and leaned against the wall behind the counter. I dragged a deep breath through my nostrils. How could I smell him from there? It wasn’t like he was wearing more than a touch of cologne, from what I could tell.
My heart did a skippy dance as I straightened the pile of forms for the third time. Why was I ignoring him so hard? We were alone. And I was glad, even though my nerves were stretched tighter than piano wire. What should I say? Should I thank him again for the job? The idea brought Dr. Fields’s disapproving face to mind, and I winced. I’d wanted to stay positive today.
“Hey, are you okay?”
I turned to answer Neill’s question, but the concerned slant to his brows sort of obliterated any lame reply I’d halfway concocted, and I just stayed there, quiet as a pet rock.
Neill
I waited for Hailey to answer my question. I wasn’t sure what was up with her this morning, only that she seemed hesitant and kinda nervous. Keeping my distance, I let my gaze pull her in as much as my arms wanted to.
She looked good. Really good, in fact. She was dressed nicely, her hair shiny and clean, just a hint of makeup on her naturally tanned cheeks. Her tank stretched over her breasts, her jeans clearly defined her shapely hips and thighs. Jerking my attention back up to her face, I cleared my throat when it became obvious that she wouldn’t—or couldn’t—reply. Maybe it was me. Yeah, probably. Having your new boss hover over you wasn’t exactly the most fun thing ever.
“Listen, I’ll let you get to it. Just yell if you have any problems, okay? Tasha should be here in a minute.”
Bobbing my head in what I hoped was a friendly, nonthreatening gesture, I turned and booked it for my studio. God, she made me feel like a kid again. All nerves and too-long legs and desperately wanting to be able to shave my face every morning to impress that one special girl.
Once I was safely inside, my fist
landed dully on the arm of the tattoo chair. I wasn’t a teenager anymore. I was a man, a business owner, and I didn’t need some college girl wrecking my concentration. Gritting my teeth, I grabbed a sketchpad and a micron pen. I needed to chill, and the best way to do that was to crank some tunes and lose myself in lines and swirls and beautiful colors.
As I popped my iPod into the dock, I wondered if that was her therapy, too. She loved art, she’d said so. I settled at the counter, and then the tip of my pen glided across the textured paper, soft lines and thicker ones wrapping around one another. The sound of the back door swinging shut barely registered as the fever of creation descended on me. When laughing voices outside my door threatened to intrude, I pushed up the volume on my iPod and let the thundering drums cover the sound.
I hunched over the sketchbook, pen moving as though possessed by a demon. Maybe it was, I couldn’t tell. It wasn’t for several long moments that I realized whose face was laughing up at me from the page.
“God-fucking-dammit.” I sighed as I straightened, the stool squeaking softly in protest. I was staring down at a two-dimensional Hailey Jakes. I hadn’t meant to do that.
A soft knock on the doorjamb made me jump, and I turned, ready to give someone hell. Roger stood there, jeans riding too low on his slim hips and his trademark cigarette tucked behind his ear. “Hey, man, Tasha just called. Sounds awful, said she’s sick.”
“Jesus.” I groaned, the fight leaving me as quickly as it had risen. I slammed the sketchbook closed and tossed it on the counter beside me. “Someone’s going to have to pull double duty.”
Roger tilted his chin, indicating behind him. “The kid’s out there, can’t she handle it?”
I stood abruptly, about to chew Roger’s ass out for calling Hailey a kid, but I stopped before the words could spill out. He hadn’t meant anything by it, and I guessed to forty-year-old Roger, she was just a kid. It was hard for me to see her that way, though.
“It’s her second day, Rog. Give her a break. We’ll all have to pitch in, okay?”
Roger nodded and jammed his hands in his pockets. Whistling, he turned and disappeared across the lobby and into his own studio space.
I shoved a hand through my hair, realized my bandana was still tied around my head, and yanked the blue fabric free. Finger-combing my hair, I left the safety of my little room and crossed the empty lobby, heading for the counter. With Tasha out, someone had to spearhead Hailey’s training, and as much as being close to her both excited and worried me, she was still my employee.
“Hey,” I said as I propped my arms on the upper portion of the counter. “Almost ready to open?”
She stopped shuffling the forms in front of her and looked up at me, a worried gleam in her hazel eyes. “I guess. Roger says Tasha isn’t coming in?”
I shook my head, hating that she looked so nervous. She’d been so awesome yesterday; I knew she could handle this. I had to build her up. “Don’t worry. You’re going to be great. Just do what you did yesterday and you’ll be fine. We’re all going to help you out up here between clients, so you won’t really be alone.”
Her heavy breath moved her shoulders up and down. She nodded, thrusting her jaw out determinedly. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
I chuckled to myself as she swished past me and unlocked the front door with a decisive click. She was something, my Hailey.
“Shit,” I muttered aloud, glaring down at the countertop. She wasn’t my anything.
“What?” Of course she’d heard me, coming around the counter at the same time my self-directed curse came out.
I forced a laugh. “Nothing, just thought of something I forgot at home.”
Seeming to swallow my lame-ass excuse, she nodded and punched in the code to turn on the phones. Phew. At least my momentary lapse of reason wasn’t causing her too much worry. She had other things on her mind, apparently. And so should I.
Chapter Five
Hailey
I hoped he couldn’t tell that I was about to jump out of my skin. Letting the phone’s handset fall to the cradle, I smoothed my damp palms on my jeans as I straightened, careful to keep my face turned away from Neill. I hadn’t had more than a couple of hours of actual training, and I already had to handle it all on my own? This was awful. I was going to bomb worse than I had in speech class last semester. Dr. Fields had been right. I couldn’t handle this, even if I hadn’t been a full-time student. They were expecting too much of me too soon.
But I pinned a smile on my face as I sat in the desk chair and faced my new boss. I opted for a tiny slice of honesty. “I’m just a little nervous, is all.”
He came around the counter and stood beside me, splaying his hand beside the phone as he leaned in. “I promise we aren’t going to desert you today. Me, Roger, and Frankie are going to check in on you and sit with you when we can. And if you don’t know something, just grab me.” He raked a hand through his shaggy hair as he stared at the ceiling. “I feel awful, having all this dumped on you your second day here. I haven’t scared you off yet, have I?” That slow, devastating smile nearly killed me.
I waited a beat before answering, Dr. Fields’s warning ringing fresh in my ears. This was it—my chance to tell Neill if I wasn’t sure I could hack the job. Could I really handle a full course load for the rest of the semester, exams and all, and do this job, too? My “actually . . .” was on the tip of my tongue, but when my gaze locked with his, something switched inside me and my answer flowed out without permission. “No. I’m not scared. If you and the rest of the guys help me, I’ll be okay.”
His lazy grin transformed into a genuine smile that lit up his whole face like a Christmas tree. That was totally worth the little white lie. “Wonderful. I knew I could count on you.”
His weight shifted toward me, and I leaned, closing the gap between us, unthinking. His hand hovered beside my cheek, just for a moment, but he winked and drew away before I could think what it meant. He walked away, arms exposed by his short-sleeved tee. The sleeve band was tight around his bicep, and I imagined running my hand over that inked muscle before he disappeared into his studio.
I turned back to the desk, the neatly piled paperwork slamming reality into my face again. How could I focus on my job with my heart thundering like this? “Crap.”
What do I do? Seriously, what do I do?
I got up and paced the narrow space between the desk and the wall. Voices floated through the wall behind me, much too low for me to understand what they were saying, but the noise distracted just the same. Focus, Hailey, come on.
I’d missed my easy out, that was for sure. Neill had offered the door if I wanted it, but one look into those stormy blue eyes and all I could think about was being near him for the rest of the summer, if not for much longer.
Gripping the edge of the desk, I closed my eyes. One day. I’d give him today, see how the job went. But I’d keep Dr. Fields’s warning in mind. He’d been right about one point. My education was the most important thing, and even though Neill was really attractive, I wasn’t about to fall into the same trap my mother had. So I’d be careful around him, too.
When the beep above the door sounded, I put on a friendly smile and remembered what Tasha had told me the day before. Keep it casual but professional. “Hey. What can we do for you today?”
The door swung shut behind the customer, and I gulped. He was at least six-five, with ink on almost every visible part of his skin, even his throat. That wasn’t the intimidating part, though. The angry scowl on his face was what made me want to crawl under the counter and hide.
“Can I help you?” I asked, my voice thin with nerves.
“I need to talk to Frankie.” The man leaned over the counter, folding his massive forearms beneath him as a brace. “You get him out here right now.”
My mouth had gone bone-dry. “Sure,” I squeaked, grabbing the phone and hitting the button on the intercom marked “Frankie.”
“What’s up?” Frankie’s Southern dra
wl came through the phone’s earpiece.
“You’ve got a customer up here,” I said, being careful to keep my eyes on the phone instead of the giant angry man who stood way too close for comfort. “Can you come up here, please?”
“Yeah, in just a couple minutes. I’m finishing up something.”
Ah, crap. Of course he was. I gave a quick glance to the customer, whose scowl was deepening with every second. “Um, I really need you up here now.”
“Listen, kid, this is part of your job. Tell the customer I’ll be up there as soon as I can.”
A harsh click in my ear signaled that the conversation was over. With a shaking hand, I let the phone’s handset fall to the cradle. I shut my eyes for a split second. Come on, Hailey, he’s just a guy with an angry face. He’s not going to do anything.
“Frankie will be up in just a minute. Do you want to have a seat?” I grabbed a heavy notebook from the bookshelf behind the desk, both to look busy and to have something that would keep my hands from shaking.
“I’m not interested in waiting,” the man said, straightening to his full height. “I’m a busy man, and I have things to do. You get him out here now.”
I stood. I didn’t really care for his tone, but I wasn’t stupid enough to call him on it. “Okay.”
It was almost a relief to fly around the corner and put some distance between us. Once I was out of sight of the counter, I pressed my back against the wall and breathed deeply. Okay. It’s okay. Cranky customers are going to happen, and I’ll have to deal with them. I just have to get Frankie to come out here and help the guy. No problem.
With my heartbeat a little less frantic, I shoved off the wall. Frankie’s studio was the third room down and I knocked on the door briskly. Without waiting for an answer, I shoved it open. “Frankie, I really need you to—”
