by Nicole James
Chapter Eighteen
The next evening, after the shop had closed, Ava sat on the padded table in the private tattooing room. Liam was on a stool pulled up to her.
“The design we come up with depends on where you want to put it. Have you decided?”
“Um. Well…”
At her hesitation, he qualified in a quiet voice, “It tells me how much space I have to work with.”
She bit her lip. She knew he was trying to put her at ease, and it wasn’t that the spot was all that intimate, but still, she’d have to pull her shirt up. Suddenly being alone in the room with Liam, even though she felt safe with him, just felt a little too intimate. After all, she worked with the man.
“Sweetheart, I do this for a living, and I’ve seen it all, but if you’re changing your mind or want to think about it—”
“No, I want it done,” she replied sharply. “Today. It has to be today.”
That had him frowning. “There a reason for the rush all of a sudden?”
There was, but she’d be damned if she’d admit the reason was because Jameson had goaded her, and because of it, she now felt she had something to prove.
“Ava, if you get a tattoo, it should be because you really want it. And you’ve thought about it for a long time.”
“I do. I have. Thought about it, I mean. I’ve been thinking about it since the moment I walked in the shop. Maybe even before that. I think it’s been in the back of my mind for a long time.”
“All right. What did you want?”
“If I tell you something, do you promise not to say anything to Jameson?”
He searched her eyes. “If that’s what you want.”
“The tattoo, it’s for my sister. She passed away a few years ago.”
He pulled back slightly at the news. “I’m sorry, Ava. I had no idea.”
She nodded, looking down and plucking at the hem of her shirt. “Thank you.”
“A memorial, then? Did you know what you wanted?”
“I…I drew this.” She pulled a scrap of paper out of her pocket. It was a pencil sketch she’d done of some flowers.
He took it, his eyes moving over it.
“I’m not very artistic.” She shrugged. “Maybe just her name would be better,” she finished lamely, thinking her drawing suddenly looked like the work of a five-year-old.
He gave her a smile. “They’re real pretty. Why don’t you tell me about your sister and maybe together we can come up with something.”
Ava sucked her lips in. It was hard even now to talk about her. Liam’s eyes searched hers, and she knew he could see how hard it was.
“Okay, honey. How about we start with where you want to put it?”
She gave him a thankful smile and leaned to the side, pulling her shirt up to reveal her ribs. The door opened suddenly and they both glanced up, startled. Liam twisted toward the door behind him, and Ava peered over his head to see Jameson standing there looking pissed as hell.
His eyes drilled into hers, ignoring his brother. “Absolutely not.”
She frowned at his odd comment, dropping her shirt as Liam stood and turned to face his brother. “You know better than to barge in here like this, Jamie.”
Jameson’s eyes cut to him. “Give us a minute.”
Liam glanced back over his shoulder at Ava, as if to ask if she was okay with that. Her eyes met his, and she nodded. With that, Liam moved to leave, but not before giving his brother a stern look as he left.
Jameson watched out of the corner of his eye as Liam closed the door behind him. Then his gaze fell on her.
She sat on the padded table waiting, not sure what would come out of his mouth. But what she heard was the last thing she expected.
“I think maybe I pushed you too far.” His words were softly spoken, almost as if admitting something that pained him.
She frowned. Was he talking about the bellybutton ring from last night? Did he think that was what she and Liam were in here doing? Checking her piercing? She shook her head. “The piercing is beautiful. I don’t regret it.”
He shook his head. “Not talking about the piercing. Although, I’m happy to hear you’re pleased.” He held her gaze. “I know why you’re in here. You were going to let him tattoo you, weren’t you?”
She looked away, her jaw clenching. Damn it. She’d wanted it over and done with before he found out. She supposed Max must have told him. It would explain why he’d seemed pissed off before he’d even opened the door.
“Weren’t you?” he pressed.
Her eyes snapped back to his. “It’s not your business. That’s between me and my tattoo artist.”
“Your tattoo artist? Right.” He held her eyes, and there was a wealth of communication there, only she was incapable of deciphering it. She broke his gaze, wondering just how well he could read her and not wanting to give away how his very presence affected her. That didn’t stop him from continuing as he came closer, “Anybody tattoos you, Ava, it’ll be me.”
She turned wide eyes on him. “You?”
“But not before we have a talk, an honest conversation.”
“What do we have to talk about? How much you hate me? How nothing I do is good enough for you?”
He folded his arms, and her eyes couldn’t help but run over the tattooed muscles, distracting her from her anger until his words brought her eyes up.
“I don’t hate you, Ava.” He looked away and blew out a frustrated breath. “Look, last night I egged you on. I was trying to push you past your limits, and part of that, I’ll admit, was that I didn’t think you belonged here from the start. Maybe I was trying to prove that to you. Hell, I’ve been trying to get under your skin since you walked in the door. But pushing a person into a body modification when it’s not what they want? That goes against everything I stand for, every principal I built this shop around.”
Her chin came up. She wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easy. Not when it sounded like he was on the verge of admitting he was wrong and, God forbid, actually apologize for it.
He shifted on his feet, rocking back on his heels. “It was wrong, what I did to you last night. I felt like shit about it afterward. What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry.”
She nodded, and yes, part of her wanted to throw his apology back in his face, to treat his apology the way he had hers just out of spite. But the contention between them had to stop somewhere, and she knew she had to be the one to reach out and take the olive branch he was unexpectedly extending. “Okay. Accepted.”
“So you don’t have to go through with this. If your purpose was to make a point to me—”
She cut him off. “Maybe I want the tattoo. Ever think of that?”
He cocked his head. “You really want a tattoo? You?”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not the right ‘type’ to get a tattoo? Now who’s being narrow-minded, Mr. Rebellious?”
“I didn’t mean it that way.” He held his hand palm up in supplication. “It’s just I never figured you’d—”
“I’d what? Have the guts?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Ava.”
She huffed out a breath, folding her arms. “Fine. Then explain.”
“Look, I just don’t want you to have any regrets. But if you want this, really want this, I’m all for it. I believe in self-expression. All forms.” He paused, searching her eyes. “So, do you?”
She looked away, considering. Now that it wouldn’t have the desired punch she’d first intended, did she still want it? She thought about the time she’d spent last night carefully drawing out her idea as best she could and all the emotions that she’d felt and the love she’d tried to put into the design. So, in answer to his question, yes, she did. She suddenly found herself wanting it more than anything.
Her eyes met his. “Yes. I do.”
“It’s not to prove something to me? Because, babe, you’ve got nothing to prove to me. Not one damn thing.”
She sho
ok her head. “It’s for me.”
“Okay…” He drew the word out, almost like he wasn’t sure he believed her. His eyes studied hers closely and he frowned. “What did you want?”
“Liam was going to do it.” She wasn’t sure she could bear to tell him about her sister. That would mean opening up to him. Really opening up.
Again he studied her a long moment before stating quietly, “I’d like to do it, if you’ll let me.”
“I don’t know…” She looked away.
He moved to sit on the stool in front of her and put his palms on either side of her knees, looking up at her. “We’ve got to start learning to trust each other sometime, Ava. Me with your ideas about the shop, and maybe you with this.”
She stared at him, her mouth dropping open. “You’re going with my ideas?”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’m considering them, let’s just put it that way. Good enough?”
The smile she gave him in return was blinding. “Good enough.”
He lifted his chin. “So tell me what you decided on. What was Liam going to ink on that pretty body of yours?”
She heard his offhanded compliment, and a strange feeling shot through her. “Well, we hadn’t worked that out yet.”
He noticed the scrap of paper on the padded table next to her hip and picked it up. “You draw this?”
She nodded. “It was just an idea I had. It doesn’t have to be exactly that.”
He looked up at her. “Where did you want to put it?”
“My ribs, by my heart.”
“Oow. Babe, that can be a really painful area.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“How big we talkin’?”
She shrugged.
He lifted his chin. “Lie back a second.”
She did as he bid, eyeing him curiously.
“Turn on your side.”
When she did, he tugged the hem of her shirt up just a bit and indicated with his hand the area from her waist down along the top of her hip. “How about something a little lower? Get it off your ribs. This area can be really beautiful curving down along your side.”
She studied the area he suggested.
“Looks sexy as hell with a bikini,” he teased with a wink.
This softer, teasing side of him was throwing her for a loop. Suddenly he was behaving with her like she’d seen him behave with other female customers, turning on the charm and the full potency of his charisma. She found she couldn’t help but smile back at him.
“All right.”
He looked again at her drawing. “Mind if I sketch something out for you. Something a little more…detailed?”
She nodded. “I want the flower in the middle to be a Lily. The rest, I don’t care, but the central flower… It has to be a Lily.”
He stared into her eyes a moment. “Is there some significance?”
And suddenly she couldn’t tell him, so she looked away. “I just… think they’re pretty.”
He nodded. “Okay then. That’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get. Can you give me a few minutes to sketch something out?”
“Of course.”
He offered his hand as she hopped down off the table. “Half hour?”
She nodded, and they both left the room. She headed to the front, and he headed up to his office. It was after hours, which was why Liam had time to do it for her, but all three brothers sat watching as she emerged with Jameson.
“What happened? You still want the tattoo?” Liam asked.
“Yes.”
“Then lets get started.”
“Liam… Jameson wants to do it.”
That brought his chin up. “He does, does he?”
“Yes.” She studied his expression as his eyes moved to the staircase and then back to her.
“I see.”
Did he? Because she wasn’t sure she did. What had brought about this change in him? Was it the party last night? Pushing her like that? Or was it something more?
Max rolled her chair over from the receptionist area. “Here, love. Sit with us.”
She did, and he sat on his rolling stool. Picking up a bottle of beer from his a six-pack on the floor he said, “I’d offer you one, but if you’re getting ink tonight, you shouldn’t drink.”
“That’s right. Good thing you drink so much water all the time. Being good and hydrated really helps,” Liam acknowledged.
She began to fidget. Now that she was committed to getting the tattoo, suddenly the anticipation was starting to get to her.
Rory must have noticed. He glanced over from the chair he sat on, the back swiveled around so that he straddled it. He held up his phone, his thumb scrolling over the screen. “Want to hear our new song, Ava?”
She gave him a grateful smile, happy to have her mind distracted. “Yes. Please.”
He turned the volume up and held it out for them to hear.
The men spent the next half hour listening to Rory’s songs, chatting and doing what they could to make Ava laugh until Jameson came down the stairs. He walked straight over to her, ignoring them all and held out a sketch for her perusal. “What do you think?”
Her eyes dropped from the serious expression on his face to the paper he held in front of her. It was a colorful design with a single lily prominent in the center of the motif, some bougainvillea on either side, surrounded by scrolling and twining vines in an intricate design that trailed upward and downward. It was lovely, and she could imagine it trailing down over the curve of her hip.
“It’s beautiful.”
“What you had in mind?”
“It’s better.”
Jameson nodded once, apparently relieved that she was pleased. “And the colors?”
Her gaze again fell to the drawing. Bright pinks and oranges entwined with vivid shades of green. “They’re gorgeous.”
“Good. Let’s get started.”
“Now?”
“No time like the present.” He cocked his head. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
Her chin came up. “No. Now is good.”
He smiled, stepped back, and extended his hand for her to precede him into the private room.
***
Two hours later, Ava was on the table, the design had been transferred and Jameson was leaning over her hip, applying needle to skin. She was mostly on her back with her hip canted slightly. Lifting her head, she watched as his black-gloved hands worked, one holding the machine, one wiping at the excess ink. She put her head back down and took a deep breath, blowing it out through her mouth.
His eyes flicked up to her. “You doing okay, sweetheart?”
She nodded, staring at the ceiling. “I’m okay.”
“If you need to tap out, we can take a break.”
“No, I’m good.”
He started back up and buzzing filled the room again.
“What do you like about tattooing?” she asked to get her mind off of the shader needles piercing her skin as he worked to add color to the design he’d created.
“This industry, for the most part, is a community of fun and creative people. I was drawn to that. These days, tattoos are accepted as an art form and an outlet of self-expression. Not just for rock stars, bikers, and people of questionable character, but for everyone. It’s a centuries-old art. I dig that. For me it’s more than just laying ink on someone’s skin. It’s long been regarded as taboo, but now, finally there’s this whole evolution going on that’s raising its status as an art form. It’s no longer just for the rebel crowd or the unconventional. You’ll see doctors and lawyers with ink. We get people from all walks of life coming into the shop now. I think that’s cool as hell.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
The buzzing continued to fill the void of conversation. To get her mind off it, she asked another question. “So, Jameson, did you always want to do this?”
He glanced at her with a grin. “What, tattoo you?”
She chuckled. “Become a tattoo artist.”
He turned his attention back to her hip, swiping it with the cloth before starting another area. “Actually, I wanted to be a therapist or counselor of some kind.”
“Max told me your parents were killed in a car accident when you both were teenagers.
His gaze shot to her. “He did, huh?”
She nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. When the accident happened, all those plans of mine went out the window.” He shrugged. “I always liked art. This way I get to be creative, and I still get to hear people tell me their stories. You wouldn’t believe the things people tell their tattoo artist. I guess it’s an intimate thing. You’re bent over them, touching their skin, close.” His eyes shot to hers, and a smile pulled at his mouth. “Kind of like I am now.”
She chuckled. “Right.”
He swiped at her skin again, changing position.
“You could have been a bartender,” she teased with a smile.
He shook his head. “Naw. The drunks would have gotten on my nerves, and I would have ended up busting heads. Where’re the tips in that?”
“I’m sure the ladies would have loved you. And tipped you well.”
He grinned, his eyes shifting to hers for a split second. “The ladies still do love me. Now they just pay me several hundred bucks if they want my undivided attention.”
“I see.”
“And this way I don’t have to mop up spilled beer and puke.”
“Gotcha.” She paused, studying him. “You have a nice manner when you tattoo.”
His eyes flicked up to hers. “Why thanks, sweetheart.”
She shifted her arms. Folding them and grasping her wrists, she rested them against her forehead. She stared at the ceiling, blowing a slow breath out, and then her eyes dropped to him, his head bent over her as he worked. “I’ve watched you with clients, especially women. You’re always so gentle with them.”
“No reason I shouldn’t be. Besides, it keeps ‘em coming back for more.” He winked.
“I like this side of you, Jameson. You can be quite charming when you want to be.”
“I’m big on the upsell. I can always talk a woman into coming back for more. If not a tattoo, at least a piercing or two.” He waggled his brows, downplaying her compliment.
