INK

by Elizabeth Hunter

  “I do like buying clothes. I order sarcastic T-shirts online and…” She blinked. “I forgot what I was going to say.”

  Ox looked up and smiled. “Buttons, you’re drunk.”

  “No, I’m… relaxed. And you should do that more. But stop calling me Buttons.”

  “Do what?” He put a screwdriver down and walked over. “What should I do more?” He reached for her bags.

  “Smile.” Emmie handed them over because they were heavy enough to be cutting into her hands. “Smile more. That’s what I noticed about you first.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “When I first saw you, I thought you were mean. Then you smiled at this old lady and helped her load stuff in her car. And then I thought you were nice.”

  Ox’s smile turned softer. “I am nice.”

  “I know that now. But when I first saw you, you were always yelling at Ginger.”

  He put a hand on the small of her back and herded her toward the stairs that led to the second-floor apartment. “Some people bring out the worst in each other.” His voice dropped. “Some people bring out the best.”

  They started up the stairs, Ox walking behind Emmie and holding her shopping bags. Her head was swimming just enough to destroy her filter. She’d be embarrassed tomorrow. Tonight, she was too curious. “Which kind am I?”

  He tugged on her waistband. “What do you think?”

  Emmie turned and they were almost nose to nose. “I like you.”

  Some expression moved over his face, but it was too dark to read it. “Probably a good thing since we’ll be working together.”

  “I picked out books for you. I ordered them yesterday.”

  He smiled again, and his eyes crinkled in the corners. “What kind of books?”

  “Adventure books. Like Hatchet, but adult fiction. Some nonfiction. And a sci-fi novel. You didn’t mention sci-fi, but this one is kind of more steampunk and I think you might like it.” She blinked and tried to reach for one of her bags. He shouldn’t be carrying all of them. “I mean, I hope you’ll like it. I tried—”

  “I’ll like it.” He held the bag away from her. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to get my shirt. It’s very embarrassed. It doesn’t have a back.”

  “The shirt is embarrassed?”

  “No, I am. When I wear it.”

  He frowned. “So why did you buy it?”

  “Because Daisy wants me to show off my tattoo.”

  He glanced at the bag. “Do you want to show off your tattoo?”

  “Kind of.” She leaned forward and nearly lost her balance.

  Ox dropped the bags in his right hand. “Careful.” He slid his arm around her waist, his fingers skimming along the skin at the small of her back.

  Emmie shivered and goose bumps rose on her arms. “Sorry.”

  “We should get you upstairs.”

  Neither of them moved. Emmie stared at the ink along his collarbone and saw his throat move as he swallowed.

  “Maybe you should show me.” His finger was stroking along the softly raised lines of ink along her spine. “Just to practice before you debut it to the world. I’m a professional.”

  “Huh?” Her head was swimming, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t just from the margaritas anymore.

  “If you’re going to show your ink to the world”—his finger kept moving back and forth, back and forth—“maybe you should let me see first.”

  She blinked. “You want me to take my shirt off?”

  He closed his eyes and his shoulders shook in silent laughter. “Upstairs, Buttons.”

  “That’s kind of unprofessional. You shouldn’t ask me to take my shirt off. That might be sexual harassment.”

  “You’re my landlord.” He nudged her around and up the stairs, leaving the bags on the floor and keeping one hand on her. “So I kind of work at your pleasure. I think sexual harassment works the other way in this situation.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Also, you’re drunk, so I’m definitely not asking you to take your shirt off.”

  “Okay, that’s good.” She managed to get the door open and the lights on.

  Ox set down the bags and went back for the others. He put them all in the small entry where Emmie dropped her keys on the antique dressing table she’d moved from the bedroom.

  “Turn around,” she said.

  He frowned. “What?”

  “Turn.” She spun her finger in a circle. “Turn your back.”

  “Ooookay.” He turned his back and Emmie turned hers, counting on liquid courage to get her through the first reveal. She pulled up her shirt and removed her bra before she held both bundled over her front, revealing her back to the chilled air of the apartment.

  “Emmie?”

  She stared at the streetlights reflecting on the windows of the apartment across the street, realizing that somewhere in the opposite building, Ginger had her own apartment where she and Ox had shared a bed.

  She almost lost her nerve. She was no voluptuous beauty. She was skinny. She was pale. There was cellulite on her thighs and she was only twenty-seven, for heaven’s sake. She definitely needed to start exercising.

  Do it, Emmie.

  “Okay, you can look.”

  She heard him turn and then the quick inhalation of breath. A slow exhalation.

  “Wow.” He moved closer. “Can I turn on this lamp?”

  She nodded.

  The lamp on the kitchen counter clicked on, and warm gold light filled the apartment. She could hear Ox coming closer.

  “Fucking gorgeous. That deep burgundy on the wings. That’s”—he cleared his throat—“really beautiful.” His voice dropped. “Really, really beautiful.” She heard him kneel down, felt the heat of his hands near the small of her back. “Do you mind if I…?”

  She shook her head, still speechless. She knew if she wore the backless shirt, people would look. Somehow having Ox examine her with an artist’s eye was easier. She could hear the appreciation in his voice, but it wasn’t about her. It was about the ink.

  It was about the ink.

  What Ox was seeing was an intricate tapestry of vines, flowers, and butterflies, all in the pre-Raphaelite style. Deep green and blue shading covered her back, turning her pale skin into a garden. Butterflies flitted from shoulder to shoulder as vines and leaves crawled up the nape of her neck.

  He tapped on her spine. “Is this a cover?”

  “The roots?”

  “Yeah.”

  She nodded. “The stupidity of youth. I wanted a butterfly, and I didn’t want to ask Spider to do it.”

  “Mistake.”

  “Trust me, he’s never let me forget it.”

  Ox’s low laugh soothed her nerves, but it didn’t get rid of the goose bumps on her skin. Hopefully he’d think they were from the cool air.

  “Your skin is fair; the colors show up well.” He brushed his fingertips over her left lower back. “And his shading here is so good. That brown almost looks like velvet. How does he do that?”

  “I wish I could see it from your perspective. I only get mirrors.”

  A single finger trailed up the right side of her back to her shoulder. “You could have him extend this vine at some point, curl this branch over your shoulder and down your arm.”

  Emmie’s mouth dropped open and her eyes closed. Dear Lord… His hands were warm and a little rough. Her skin felt every tiny movement. She wanted him to continue the line he was drawing, over her shoulder, across her collarbone, down to her—

  “At least”—he took his fingers off her skin and Emmie tried not to cry—“that’s what I’d do if it were my design, but it’s yours. And”—she felt a warm thumb make one last brush over her shoulder—“it’s amazing. Fucking gorgeous, Emmie.”

  “Thank you.”

  He stood up and put his hand on her shoulder before he leaned down to her ear. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I should probably go now.”

&n
bsp; Emmie couldn’t speak.

  “I’d rethink that backless shirt though.”

  “What?” She looked over her shoulder. “Why?”

  “Trust me.” He skimmed a hand over her shoulders before he walked to the door. “Everyone will want to touch.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Emmie had just unpacked the order of books that contained the adventure novels she’d ordered for Ox when she heard unfamiliar voices in the shop. She grabbed Ox’s books, walked downstairs, and peeked through the door, curious who had come to visit. According to Ox, she’d successfully avoided Adrian Saroyan three times now. She didn’t want to break her streak.

  “So you’re going to Sierra Community now?” Ox asked. “What are you studying?”

  “Just general ed right now,” a girl said. “But I’m going to be a psychologist.”

  Emily peeked farther. No Adrian. Three college girls sitting in the lounge. Ox being inadvertently charming.

  Emmie was pretty sure he didn’t try to be charming, but she’d seen the same phenomenon too often to consider it a coincidence. The more Ox ignored the girls who flirted with him, the more they liked him. To Emmie, it was really confusing.

  Ox held up a hand. “Better not tell you too much then. You’ll start analyzing me.”

  All three girls giggled.

  It wasn’t that funny.

  Emmie examined them. They were all in their late teens or early twenties and dressed for winter, throwing on stylish wraps and boots even though the temperature had barely dipped below sixty the night before. They’d be sweating by afternoon, but for the moment they looked cool and clever and impossibly stylish. Emmie glanced down at her clothes. INK wasn’t officially open, so she wasn’t wearing her new wardrobe. Her oversized T-shirt sported a cat with laser-beam eyes, and her jeans were the baggy variety.

  Get over yourself, Em.

  This wasn’t high school even if the girls in the lounge reminded her of it. She was a business owner and these were potential customers, though from the look of things, they were way more interested in Ox than in books. Still, three coffee cups from Café Maya littered the table between them, people were in the shop, chatting and laughing. It wasn’t a bad way to start her working day.

  Emmie straightened her shoulders and walked out of the hallway. “Hey!” she said cheerfully. “Welcome to INK. We’re not officially open, but can I help you?”

  “Girls, this is Emmie. She runs the bookshop.” Ox stood. “Remember Russ across the street? Kim is his sister, and these are some of her friends.”

  All three girls waved at once. “Hey.”

  “Hi.” Emmie waved back. “Did you need help with anything?”

  “We just came by to say hi to Ox. My brother said him and Ginger broke up.”

  He and Ginger. Emmie smiled and reined in any grammar-correcting urges. “Yeah, I’m pretty excited to be working with him here at INK.”

  The girl who’d spoken was the blonde studying psychology. She pulled out her phone and started taking pictures of the shop. “This place is so cute.”

  The next girl pulled out her phone too. “It’s supercute. I need to buy a book and some winter stuff to go with that really furry blanket my mom got me. That would make such a cute picture, right?”

  The third girl said, “Oh my God, Amber, that would look amazing. Like coffee and books and cute socks?”

  Emmie quietly counted the number of times they included “cute” in the conversation.

  Too many.

  “Cocoa,” Kim said. “Use cocoa instead. Cocoa is cuter than coffee.”

  “You’re so smart.” Amber turned to Emmie. “What’s your Instagram? We’ll tag you.”

  Emmie’s brain was scrambled and she’d lost count of how many cutes they’d uttered. “Sorry, what?”

  “Hey!” Tayla walked downstairs just in time. “I love your boots!” she said to Kim. “Did you just get those this season?”

  “They’re vintage,” Kim said. “My mom had them.”

  “You’re so lucky.” Tayla immediately walked to the counter and grabbed three business cards. “So, all our information is on there. Instagram. Snapchat. We totally follow back. We don’t have a YouTube channel up yet, but Emmie and I are going to be doing online book reviews eventually.”

  They were?

  Tayla was still talking to the three girls “Do any of you have tattoos from Ox already?”

  “I do!” Kim held up her hand. “I have this little star on my wrist. I got it last year.”

  Ox had come over to the counter and was leaning against it with Emmie, fighting off a smile. “They invaded at dawn,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t turn them away. Kim brought me coffee, and you weren’t awake yet.”

  “I’m so confused, but I’m letting Tayla do this part. She speaks cute.”

  “Trust me, you speak cute fluently.”

  Tayla had walked to the YA section and grabbed a new fantasy romance with stars on the cover. It was a stunning hardback and one that Emmie had been planning to feature at the opening because the online reviews were glowing.

  “Do you like fantasy?” Tayla asked.

  “I watch Game of Thrones,” Kim said. “Oh, I love that cover!”

  “Right? Okay, so let’s give you this and hold it with the hand where the tattoo is—”

  “Got it.” Kim took over immediately, grabbing the book and angling her phone to snag a shot of her right hand holding the book, the small black star peeking from the corner of her wrist.

  “That looks amazing,” Tayla said over her shoulder. “Now you can say you get all your ink at INK.”

  “Caption!” Kim said. “So. Cute.”

  “Tag us and I’ll repost.”

  Tayla kept chatting with the girls while Emmie started the coffeepot.

  Ox grabbed the books Emmie had forgotten on the counter. “Hey, are these for me?”

  “Yeah.” She glanced at him nervously. “I hope you like them.”

  He was already reading the back covers, his brow wrinkled in concentration. Had he looked at her bare skin with that same look? Because she was melting a little inside thinking about that.

  It had been two days since she’d drunkenly bared her back to Ox. She’d been expecting him to mention it, but he’d been totally silent. Hadn’t brought it up once. If not for a quick question about her head the next morning, she might have thought she’d imagined the whole thing.

  “How’s your back?” he muttered. “Spider finished last night, right?”

  “Are you a mind reader?”

  He looked up. “What?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head. “It’s fine. He finished all the details on the shading, so it’s slightly sore all over, but not as intense as when he did the fill.” And that sticky bra Tayla had forced on her was already coming in handy.

  Ox asked, “Do you toss and turn at night?”

  “Nope, I sleep like the dead.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” he muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He nodded at the girls. “This is good, right? Russ asked if they could come by, and I said it was cool.”

  “Yeah, totally cool. They clearly shop a lot. We just need to make sure they think books are photo-worthy accessories.”

  Ox chuckled. “Accessories. Right.”

  He was holding his books like they were shiny new toys. It warmed Emmie to her toes. He really was going to read them. He really was excited.

  And he just got hotter. Great.

  “So when is your opening?” Amber asked Tayla. “Kim, we should totally go.”

  “I don’t know…”

  Ox looked up from his books. “If you girls come and bring some friends, I’ll give you little stars like Kim has.”

  The three girls lit up. “Oh em gee, Kim, how cute would that be?”

  “We could take pictures.”

  Tayla said, “Take pictures holding books!”

  “The cutest,” Kim said.
“We’ll be here.” She held up her phone. “Look! You already have two hundred and eighty likes.”

  Emmie blinked. “What?”

  “On the picture of me with the book.”

  “Holy shit, that’s awesome. Thank you!”

  Kim beamed.

  Tayla wandered over to Emmie and whispered, “Get all your ink at INK. Remember that one.” Tayla plucked at the edge of Emmie’s laser-cat T-shirt. “What are you wearing? Picture ready, remember?”

  Emmie rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll go change.”

  Ox was still reading the backs of his new books. “She looks fine to me.”

  “She’s wearing laser cats.”

  “And?” Ox bumped her shoulder. “Thanks for the new reads, Buttons. That sci-fi one looks good.”

  Tayla waited for Ox to get back to his side of the shop. “Buttons?”

  “As in, pushing all of them this morning.”

  “Chica, you’ve got it bad.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Emmie was getting her afternoon pick-me-up at Café Maya when she heard the voice she’d been avoiding for weeks.

  “Hey, Emmie.”

  Oh no. She’d changed her clothes, but she still wasn’t prepared to meet Adrian Saroyan.

  She looked over her shoulder and feigned surprise. “Adrian! How are you?”

  He still looked amazing, if a bit overdressed. Emmie wondered if he always met clients that way. Maybe he had to visit the bank. She’d quickly gotten used to being in Metlin again with its more relaxed dress code. Seeing a man in a suit—even a nicely tailored one—was jarring.

  “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he said. “Did your friend tell you I’d stopped by?”

  “Who, Ox?”

  “I don’t know.” Adrian chuckled, his white teeth gleaming against a dark tan. “The big guy with lots of…” He motioned over his arms.

  Emmie frowned. “Lots of muscles?”

  Adrian’s smile turned stiff. “Tattoos.”

  “Oh! Yeah, that’s Ox.”

  “Ox?” He nodded. “Okay. I was there last week and told him I needed to speak to you. I left a card.”

  “I got it. I’ve just been super busy with all the prep for the opening next week.” And also avoiding you.