Wren looked to be almost finished, darkening the surface of the lion’s black nose. Lee watched her and smiled in awe. She worked with uncanny focus, never taking her eyes from her creation. He couldn’t see much of her face, but when she angled her head to the left to peer closer at some detail, twice Lee saw the tip of her tongue dart out over her bottom lip in concentration.
He’d seen pictures of her work in her living room, but watching her art come to life had him spellbound. He didn’t want to stop.
“Okay, Big Cat, you’re done.” She pulled her ink gun away and sat back to survey her work. “I’ll get you a mirror.”
In one fluid motion, she untucked her legs from beneath her and hopped off the table. She passed a hand mirror to her customer before turning away. And that’s when she saw him.
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” She stood, frozen, staring at him, and then Lee felt three more sets of eyes join hers. But he could only peer into her green irises because, despite her tone, he thought he saw a spark of welcome in them.
“Wren?” her boss questioned, his confused frown turning away from Lee and toward her. Their two customers just watched in silence.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked Lee before holding up her gloved hand and shaking her head. “Wait. Scratch that. I don’t even want to know.”
Lee got to his feet. The glint in her eyes let him know she might be pissed, but she wasn’t repulsed. Or worse, indifferent. Pissed he could work with.
“Give me your number, and I’ll leave now and call you later.”
Wren’s brows shot up, but Rocky grinned.
“Hell, no,” she said, pulling off her latex gloves with something close to violence. Lee wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d flung them in his face. “Go away.”
The prettiest blush now crept up her cheeks. Lee shrugged, and a smile he couldn’t control made his face ache.
“I can’t.” It was the truth. The last thing he wanted to do now was walk away from her, not when he was so close to getting closer. He knew he had a long way to go, but a challenge didn’t scare him.
“What do you mean you can’t? The door is right there.” She pointed behind him, her face now scarlet. “You can’t harass me at work.”
Lee instantly took a step back. He didn’t want her to feel harassed. Pursued, yes. Desired, yes. Harassed, no.
“Wren, is this the guy?” Rocky asked, looking first at Lee and then back at her.
The guy?
Wren whirled on her boss, the bottom of her gray skirt twirling behind her. “Rocky,” she hissed. “This is none of your business.”
Rocky’s smile only grew, and he nodded at Lee. “Rocky Perrodin. You are?”
“Lee Hawthorne.” He nodded back, relaxing a little. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same to you, Lee,” Rocky said, looking highly amused.
Wren leveled her boss with a glare. “You’re not helping.”
He turned back to the woman on his table, muttering, “I think I am.”
At this, the big guy with the lion tattoo stood up, grinning proudly. “Wren, it kills, but I gotta get to work. Can I put my shirt on?”
Wren turned her back on Lee and her boss. “Wait. Let me dress it for you.” Automatically, she pulled on another pair of latex gloves and grabbed a large gauze pad. She had to climb onto a stepladder to reach his shoulder, and while she worked, Lee took his seat again. If he was known here as the guy, he was in no hurry to leave. “You know the drill, right, Big Cat? Keep the dressing on today. Neosporin twice a day. Keep it clean.”
“Yeah, got it. Thanks, Wren.” Big Cat shrugged on his shirt and circled to the woman on the table, grinning. “That seahorse is looking good, hon.”
The blonde on the table smiled up at him. “See you at home, babe.”
Big Cat leaned over and kissed her right in front of all of them, and Lee couldn’t help but smile.
“Wren, Dallas here has the debit card. Can you ring me up with her? Gotta run.”
“Sure thing, B.C.” Wren pulled off her gloves a second time. She kept her back to Lee, grabbed a spray bottle, and started cleaning up her station. Silently, Big Cat gave him a look that said “Good luck” before he hit the door, the bells jangling again as it closed behind him.
Lee watched as Wren wiped down her station and then moved to her equipment, disposing of the needle set in the orange bin labeled Biohazard: Medical Waste.
“How’s the puppy?” Rocky asked over his shoulder, reminding Lee that his dog Millie was Victor’s mother.
“Don’t encourage him, Rocky,” Wren grumbled.
“He’s great. Smart little guy. Getting bigger every day.” Lee looked back at Wren. “You should come over to see him, Wren. He’d love it.”
“Yeah. Right. He’d just love that,” she muttered. “Because that dog only wants what he can’t have.”
Rocky chuckled under his breath at the jab.
Lee leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Nah. He just knows what he wants, and he doesn’t give up easily.”
On her back, the blonde giggled, clearly amused.
Rocky pulled back his gun. “Careful, Dallas.”
“Sorry, Rock,” she said, recovering. “This is better than The Bold and the Beautiful.”
The bell on the door clanged, and a kid in a tight T-shirt, low-hung jeans, and backward baseball cap stepped in.
“What can I do for you?” Wren asked in a rush, startling the kid.
But Lee got to his feet before the guy could answer. “Wait, now, I was here first.”
“Oh, sorry, du—“
“You want a tattoo?” Wren scowled at Lee in disbelief.
Lee had never wanted one before. And, if pressed, he hadn’t even considered getting one when he stepped into the studio, but watching Wren work certainly piqued his interest. But most of all, he needed to grab some time with her.
“Yes,” he said firmly.
Wren crossed her arms over her chest. “You. You, Dr. Leland Hawthorne. You want a tattoo.” Her adorned left brow arched high above its twin, and if Lee had harbored any doubts before, they vanished in the challenge of that look.
“That’s what I said.”
She cocked her jaw and rolled her eyes. “Well, Rock’s almost finished. He can help you.”
Lee shook his head. “I want you.”
The statement, heavy with meaning, silenced the room. Lee watched Wren swallow, but she recovered quickly enough.
“Too bad. I’m not tatting you.”
Rocky cleared his throat. “Since when do we refuse service to someone sober and of age?” Rocky’s eyes cut to Lee’s. “You can pay, right?”
“Of course.”
Rocky angled his eyes toward Wren, still looking amused. “You’re not turning down a paying customer.”
Her jaw fell open. “Rock. Seriously?”
He paused, frowned, and looked between them again. “Am I missing something? Did he hit you or some shit like that?”
“No,” she said.
“Hell, no,” Lee spoke at the same time.
Their paired protests only made Rocky happier, but an uncomfortable heat cinched around Lee’s neck at the thought of someone hitting Wren.
“Then get to work.”
She narrowed her eyes at her boss. “It’s good to know where your loyalties lie.”
“Hush, girl.” But then Rocky turned and pointed his gloved finger at Lee. “You ever hurt her, the last thing you’ll hear will be the rumble of Hogs.”
Lee met Rocky’s even look with his own. “Understood.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Wren muttered.
Dallas giggled again.
“I think I’ll come back later.” This was from the kid in the baseball cap as he walked backward towards the door.
“I’m almost done,” Rocky called as the door opened, and the kid disappeared. He cocked his head back to Wren. “Well, now you have to tat him. He just cost me a co
stumer.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WREN SEETHED.
A part of her had been secretly elated to see him again after their morning encounter. This wasn’t an accident. He’d come to her.
But the other part told her she’d be a fool to trust him. He might, indeed, have ended things with Marcelle, but once a cheater, always a cheater. And even if it had just been one kiss, Lee Hawthorne was bad for her. It had been so hard to walk away from him just a few hours ago. And she barely knew him. What would happen if she let him in?
“Well? What do you want?” she snapped, glad that her resentment sounded convincing.
Lee blinked, and Wren held her breath, hoping that the question would be enough to call his bluff. Nobody as buttoned-up as Lee came in and got tattooed on a whim. She crossed her arms and waited, giving him a look of supreme impatience. He’d call it off. She knew he’d call it off.
If he goes through with it, I’ll give him my number.
The moment she placed this bet with herself, Lee reached into his back pocket and drew out his wallet.
“I know what I want.” He opened the brown leather wallet and pulled out an antique brass skeleton key.
“What’s that for?” Wren asked, completely surprised.
One side of Lee’s mouth turned up, but the corners of his eyes angled down just a little. “It was my mother’s.”
She stopped her line of questions right there. The look in his eyes had the power to melt her defenses. It was so far from the cocksure grin he’d worn when he’d declared she’d kissed him back or the amused smile that sat on his lips whenever he was laughing at her. This look was innocent. This was the look of a boy.
Without a word, she held out her hand for the key, and Lee placed it on her palm. It was short, perhaps three inches long with a decorative head and a bit that was notched in the shape of a cross. The head bore three perfect circles just above the shaft with kidney-shaped loops on either side. She could only guess at its age, but it was beautiful, and she knew inherently that the piece it opened had to be beautiful, too.
Wren steeled herself. She could do this. She could let him make his play and be the professional she always was. The key was cool, and it would make a kickass tattoo. And that would give her confidence.
“You want it life-sized?” She glanced back up at him, all business.
He considered the key a moment. “Yes. Just like that.”
“Color or true black?”
Lee’s eyebrows drew together. “What do you think?”
Wren turned the key over in her hand. It was tarnished in places and buffed into a high shine in others.
“If you want it to look just like this, I could do mustard for the brass and platinum for the shadows. And a thin outline in black, of course.”
The left side of Lee’s mouth curled in a grin again, and his eyes danced. “Yeah, that’ll work.”
Wren pulled her eyes away. “Lemme make a copy of this to use as a stencil.” She turned and ducked into Rocky’s office without another word and took her time centering the key on the thermal copier’s glass and loading the feed tray with a sheet of transfer paper. Wren wasn’t about to take any chances with the perfect lines of the key’s shaft and bit. The overhead light in the office was off, and the space was a little cooler, so she drew in a slow breath to calm herself.
When she returned with key and stencil in hand, Lee had sat himself on the end of her table, and Rocky was finishing up with Dallas.
“Okay, doc, where do you want it?” she asked, sounding as detached as she could.
Lee’s eyes narrowed slightly on hers, and he drew a finger up to his chest. “Right here.” His fingertip brushed across his left pec, and Wren had to shift the weight on her feet and concentrate on keeping her expression even. She moved past him and raised the head of her table just a little.
“Okay,” she breathed. “Shirt and tie off. Lie back on the table.”
She turned away to her ink cart and felt her face heat when she heard the whir of silk on silk as he pulled open his tie. She busied herself setting up a fresh razor, her green soap, her alcohol wipes, and gauze. With her sterile scissors, she cut around the stencil and set it aside. Wren laid out two sterile grips, her liner and shader tips, and got her colors ready.
Knowing he’d be shirtless, Wren schooled a bored look on her features before she turned. She met his eyes first, and it would have helped if he’d looked back at her with that smug grin. Feeling pissy was a good defense, and his grin pissed her the hell off.
But the look he gave her was far from it. He lay back, watching her with a mix of wonder and… What was it? Hope? Whatever it was, it made her cheeks burn again. Wanting to press on, Wren picked up an alcohol swab.
“Where exactly do you want it?”
Without taking his eyes off hers, he touched the space about two fingers above his left nipple. She let herself glance down, and he was just as beautiful as she remembered. Lean… muscled. The dark triangle of chest hair again a carnal surprise.
Wren tried to keep her voice even, but it came out a little too high. “Bit facing in?”
Lee nodded, his fingers still over his heart. His eyes locked on hers.
She tore open the wrapper and drew out the alcohol-soaked square, and before she could let herself think too much about it, she moved his hand aside and pressed the square to his skin. His breath hitched.
“Cold,” he whispered.
“Sorry.” She refused to look back into his midnight-blue eyes, but she didn’t miss the moment when his nipples drew taut with her touch. She swabbed well beyond the boundaries where his tattoo would fall, and his skin puckered with gooseflesh.
After tossing the square into the wastebasket at her feet, Wren reached for the spray bottle of green soap and spritzed it over his chest.
“What’s that?” he asked, his voice soft.
Wren grabbed a paper towel and wiped up the excess soap. “It’s Tincture Green, a medical-grade soap. I’ll use it throughout the process.” She surprised herself at how detached she managed to sound. It was a relief, given the fact that his body stretched out before her seemed to beckon her touch.
She picked up the disposable razor, but his skin was still raised with chills. She met his eyes then.
“Are you still cold?”
Lee tucked his right hand under his head, looking at her casually, but his cheeks flushed. “No.”
She ignored the tingle in her belly at his response and watched his skin instead. When the chills disappeared, she touched the razor to his flesh and dragged it across him in a careful swipe. At once, his chills returned. Wren stopped. Tattooing on razor-burn didn’t work.
“I can put the heater on or give you a clean towel to use as a blanket,” she offered.
The color in Lee’s cheeks deepened, but he smiled. “It’s not the temperature,” he whispered. “It’s you.”
Wren’s breath caught. She couldn’t stop it. And it took her longer than she liked to think of what to say.
“Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait until Rocky is free—”
“Nuh-uh. We’re doing this.” The whisper was gone, and determination shone in his eyes. “Just gimme a sec… Talk to me about something boring.”
“Something boring?” Wren felt her eyebrows lift.
“Yeah… like what did you have for breakfast today?”
Wren blinked. “Um… Greek yogurt and granola.”
Lee flashed a smile. “That’s not boring enough.”
“It’s not?” She was losing her footing with him; she could feel it. It would be so easy to smile back.
“Nah…” He shook his head, the look he wore now full of mischief. “…because now I’m picturing you in jammies eating yogurt and granola.”
“Please tell me I didn’t just hear that,” Rocky said, giving an obvious shudder as he dressed Dallas’s tattoo.
Even though she felt her face turn bright red, Wren regained her footing at once.
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“You do see that I’m holding a blade, right?” Brandishing the razor, she gave him the evil eye.
Lee had the nerve to chuckle, but it worked. His chills were gone, and Wren finished shaving — as roughly as she could manage without actually breaking the skin. She squirted him again with green soap, rubbed it off, and picked up the stencil.
“Lie flat. I need to line this up so it’s perfectly level.”
Lee untucked his right arm and pressed himself flat against the table. She leaned over him and studied the contour of his pec before she angled the stencil and pressed it down on his chest. She ran her fingers over it and counted to twenty before she carefully peeled back the edges.
Standing back, she checked her work and nodded in approval. She passed him her hand mirror.
“Okay, make sure that’s what you want and where you want it,” she warned. “I’m going to let this dry for a few minutes, glove up, and get started. If you have any doubts, now’s the time to pull the plug.”
Lee held the mirror over himself and smiled at what he saw.
“No doubts.” He passed the mirror back to her, and she gave a shrug.
“Suit yourself.” Secretly, she was thrilled he wanted to go through with it. Of course, he didn’t need to know that. Wren turned back to her table, took an alcohol swab, and sterilized the handle and body of her green soap so she could grab it as needed once she’d donned her gloves.
Across from her, Rocky was helping Dallas off the table, and both turned her way with curious smiles. Wren scowled at her boss before pulling on a pair of gloves. She peeled open the grip, connected it to her rotary machine, and then opened her liner needles and loaded them. She flipped on the machine, the hum at least filling up some of the awkward silence in the studio. She tapped the foot pedal and did a quick ink check before turning back to Lee.
“Ready?”
His eyes were on the machine in her hand, but he cut them back to her. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
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