I stepped into Rae’s room and walked over to where she was lying on her tattoo chair with her eyes closed. She opened them at my approach and glared at me as I handed her a latte. “Thank God,” she growled. “You don’t know how excruciating it is having to listen to you two lovebirds when I haven’t had my caffeine fix.”
She said it so loud I knew Cole had heard.
I wrinkled my nose. “Don’t be mean.”
“Why?” she huffed, and then snorted, “Are you going to kill me with your magical hair?”
I rubbed a strand of hair between my finger and thumb. “It is thick. It would make good rope.”
“Dark. I like it, wee fairy.”
I rolled my eyes at the irritating nickname she’d adopted from Stu and wandered out of her room and down the hall to Simon. He was sleeping in his chair, his arms crossed on the counter and sink space in the back of the room, his head resting on his arms. I quietly walked over to him and nudged him awake, wafting the coffee below his nostrils.
“Argh,” he groaned, blinking sleepily. He saw the coffee first and wiped drool from his mouth as he sat up to take it from me. He sipped at it before throwing me a grateful smile. “Tony kept me up late last night.”
“No fucking sex talk!” Rae yelled.
“Since when?” I whispered at Simon, smirking.
“I heard that!”
My eyes bugged out. “She has radar ears.”
“So what? You have magical fucking hair!”
I laughed and heard Cole’s laughter join mine.
Sighing, I sipped my coffee as Simon chuckled into his. I felt almost content for the first time in as long as I could remember.
I felt part of something here.
I felt part of a family.
* * *
There really wasn’t much of an opportunity to talk with Cole at work that weekend, but as we closed up for the early evening on Sunday, Rae announced Cole was having dinner with us. I was surprised because if Cole could cut out early on a Sunday to catch up with his friends and family who got together for lunch at Ellie’s mum’s house, he would. I wasn’t complaining, though. There was something new between us now. Although we didn’t get a chance to talk much, when we did Cole was warm toward me, and there was a glitter in his eyes when he looked at me.
Mike was at the flat when we returned on Sunday, and the four of us had a good laugh together. Cole and I had formed a bond and we were a team against Rae’s sarcasm. She said it pissed her off that we were defending each other, but secretly I think she liked the challenge of finding a way to outwit us both.
From Monday through Wednesday Cole was in my space as much as he could be. He took me out to lunch twice, and when he didn’t have a client he hung out in the waiting area distracting me from my work with silly stories and jokes. When he wasn’t distracting me he was drawing, and what he was drawing were different ideas for my dragon tattoo.
I finally decided on a predatory black-and-petrol-blue dragon in profile.
The truth was I was nervous about the tattoo—not so much about the pain, because as Cole had told me many times since deciding to get the darn thing, everyone had different experiences and pain levels with tattoos. No, I was nervous about the fact that Cole was going to be the one giving me my tattoo. As in . . . touching me. Since Friday evening this new tension had grown between us. As much as I had always been aware of Cole, it seemed as if he was very much aware of me again. Not like he had been in the beginning—he was more careful now, like he didn’t want to scare me away or upset me.
But I caught him looking at me.
There was a huge part of me that loved that he was looking again. Yet there was this other huge part of me that loved the small taste I’d gotten of being Cole’s friend, and I didn’t want to ruin that.
“Ready?” Cole greeted as I walked into his room on Thursday afternoon.
I exhaled nervously and shut his door behind me. “I’m not going to lie. I’ve got butterflies.”
He smiled. “You’re in safe hands.”
Oh God, did he have to say that? I flushed inwardly, desperately looking anywhere but at his hands.
He was still grinning as he lowered himself to his stool and nodded to the chair. “You can straddle the chair and lean on the armrests.”
I swallowed hard and moved to do just that, painfully aware that he was probably getting a good look at my butt as I did so.
“I’m just going to increase the height on the chair,” he said a second before I felt the chair rise.
Suddenly his hands were in my hair and I tensed.
“There’s a lot of it. I’m just shifting it out of the way.” He gathered my hair and draped it over my shoulders. His fingers brushed my skin. “You can either take your top off or lift the hem and hold it out of my way.”
The thought of taking my shirt off in front of Cole almost fried my brain. “I’ll . . . uh . . .” In answer I lifted the hem and clutched it tight in my grip. “Is that high enough?”
“Yeah. But if you get uncomfortable let me know.”
I nodded and tried to relax.
That was really hard to do when his fingers brushed across my lower back. “Everyone feels different levels of pain,” he said, his voice soft as his fingertips lightly stroked my skin. “I will say you’ll probably find the outlines the most uncomfortable, because as I sketch it I’m dragging more definitively on the skin.”
“Okay.” My hands turned into fists as I prepared myself for pain.
Cole chuckled. “Now you’ve tensed up. Just relax. It won’t be as bad as you think.”
I nodded again and a few seconds later the buzz of the needle filled the room. I braced myself and attempted not to flinch as Cole brought the needle to my back.
At first it stung, like a constant scratching over my skin. Soon enough it stung like a mother. However, as time wore on I got used to the pain. It wasn’t nearly as wretched as some people made it out to be.
The needle stopped buzzing. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “You?”
I could hear the amusement in his voice. “I’m good, Shortcake.”
I attempted and failed to ignore the thrill that went through me at the endearment. “How does it look?”
“Like I just started it three minutes ago.”
I giggled, trying not to shake, and he laughed. “It’s going to be pretty cute when it’s done.” I stopped giggling. Sensing why, he hurried to assure me, “Cute but fierce.” His free hand squeezed my hip. “Perfect for you.”
I laughed now, liking that. “Cute. That’s my lot in life.”
“How do you mean?”
“That’s how people describe me. ‘Oh, Shannon, you look so cute in that picture,’ et cetera. I suppose it’s better than ‘You look like you’ve been pulled through the bushes backwards,’ so I’m not complaining.”
“There’s more to you than cute. People call you cute because you’re petite . . . but you’re sexy too . . . Mostly you’re beautiful in a way that stops a man in his tracks.”
Did he just say that?
Flabbergasted, bowled over, blown away . . . I didn’t know how to respond to the best compliment in the history of compliments. In the end I went with a lame, choked “Thank you.”
Cole gave my hip another squeeze and the tattoo needle started up again, as did the pain. Thankfully he didn’t stop, because getting used to the pain all over again wasn’t fun.
About an hour from when Cole started, the needle stopped. “Done.”
“Really?” I was surprised. I’d been lost in a daydream about different things (not Cole . . . uh-uh . . . no, siree), and time had flown.
He chuckled. “Really. I’ll put some film wrap over it to protect it.”
I could feel him doing that.
“I know you’ve probably heard the aftercare speech a million times, but I have to give it to you anyway.”
“Hit me with it.” I glanced at him over my should
er with a smile.
There was something intense in his green eyes as he proceeded to “hit me with it.” “Take the film off in four to six hours. Clean the tattoo with a mild soap—Rae will definitely have some—and warm water. Massage, don’t scrub. If you’re showering tonight or in the morning, don’t let the spray hit the tattoo at full force and keep the water lukewarm. It also helps to run the shower at ice-cold on just your tattoo before you get out—this closes any pores the warm water might have opened, allowing the tattoo to heal better and keep the ink vivid. You don’t need to rebandage, but moisturize it lightly twice a day—again, Rae has the best product to use. Do this for the next few days. Wear loose tops, low jeans, so your clothing doesn’t rub against it.” I felt him stand up from his stool seconds before his hands came to rest on my hips. Realizing he was helping me down from the chair, I stood up and stumbled a little as I tried to back off it. “I should have lowered the height on the chair,” he murmured apologetically in my ear.
I shivered at his nearness, and his fingers tensed on my hips.
“It might be better to sleep on your side tonight, and for the next few days try not to rub your tattoo against anything and . . . eh . . . missionary is probably out for the next few days as well.”
I swallowed my gasp but jerked out of his hold, turning to face him with a million questions in my eyes. His gaze was burning hot and I could barely breathe under the stifling tension. “That won’t be a problem,” I whispered.
Cole took a step toward me just as his door flew wide-open.
“Can I see it?” Rae strode in and I quickly lowered my gaze so she couldn’t see the excitement Cole’s tactility and overall sexy behavior was causing me. I turned and lifted up my shirt.
“Cool,” Rae pronounced upon inspection. “I’ll be able to see it better when the cling film comes off.” When I turned back around she grinned. “So, what did you think?” she said. “Did it hurt?”
“Not as bad as I thought it would.”
“Are you going to get another one?”
I snorted. “I think I’m good for now.”
Rae abruptly clapped her hands together so loudly I blinked. “Tomorrow night! Drinks to celebrate Shannon’s tat.”
“Sounds good.” Cole smiled, busying himself with his tattoo equipment.
I felt shy and uncertain now that I could no longer sense his eyes on me. “Okay. But I’m buying for Cole since he won’t let me pay for the tattoo.”
Rae’s lips parted. “Free?” She whirled around and Cole raised an eyebrow at her bristling aggression. “You only gave me fifty percent off!”
His lips twitched as his eyes flicked from her to me and then he just shrugged and turned back to switching out the tattoo needles. Unwilling to make himself a target for her annoyance, Cole unwittingly set Rae on me.
“Fucking magical hair, all right!”
And with that she stormed out of the room.
Cole glanced over his shoulder at me and winked.
I burst out in peals of laughter, already contemplating whether a coffee or a donut or both would pacify Rae.
CHAPTER 13
I spent the rest of that day attempting to concentrate, but I was too aware of my tattoo to manage it. I was trying not to rub or lean against anything . . . and, admittedly, I was trying not to think about the fact that Cole had very definitely been flirting with me.
And the flirting wasn’t like before either. This time it was like he couldn’t help himself. I had to admit that made me feel more than a little bit giddy. Cole was the hottest guy I’d ever met and he also happened to be one of the nicest.
Nice.
It seemed like such a blah little word, but it was a quality that was too often completely underappreciated.
Not by me.
I appreciated the hot, nice tattooist I worked with.
I appreciated him a whole lot, so much so I was thrilled to have caught his attention.
Yet, at the same time, I was also apprehensive.
I knew Cole wasn’t Ollie or Nick or Bear the biker, or Rory the thief. I knew that. I believed Hannah. I believed what I could see with my own eyes, but that didn’t mean my fears were just going to disappear overnight. No matter how great he was, Cole could still end up hurting me, and I had this feeling in my gut that getting hurt by Cole Walker might just break me.
* * *
“Smells good,” Rae said as she got in from work that night. She kicked off her shoes and sank into a kitchen chair just as I laid her plate down in front of her. “Tattoo okay?”
“Yeah.” I sat down in the seat beside her. “Bit itchy, though.”
“That’ll get worse as it heals. Whatever you do, don’t scratch it. You’ll ruin the fucking thing.”
“Yeah, Cole already cautioned me.”
Rae nodded while chewing. As soon as she swallowed she said, “Speaking of Boss Man, what did I walk in on today?”
In all honesty . . . “I have no idea.”
“Do you like him?”
I looked up to meet Rae’s direct gaze and I nodded.
Rae smirked. “Well, every idiot with a pair of eyes in their head can see Cole likes you back. So, what’s the problem, kiddies?”
I knew if anyone might understand, it would be Rae. “I know he’s a good guy. Honestly I do, but I’ve been burned too many times not to be scared about starting something with him.”
“You would feel that way about any guy.”
“True.” I eyed my plate, no longer hungry now that turmoil had filled my belly.
“You want my advice?”
I gave her a small, wry smile.
“Go for it. Cole is the real fucking deal.”
“I told him,” I said, the words hushed. “About Ollie.”
Rae’s eyebrows rose. “You told him that? So he knows you come with a shitload of baggage and he’s still eye-fucking you across the room?” She grinned. “I knew I loved that guy.”
“I don’t want to ruin my friendship with him.”
“Since when were you two friends? The sexual tension between you since the moment you arrived . . . Well, it’s like living in an episode of the latest teenage drama series.”
I frowned. “I think there’s an insult in there somewhere.”
“There was also some advice I think you should take. If you blow off Cole again, he’s going to move on, and Cole does not do casual, so the next girl he moves on to is going to be around for a while, if not forever. Do you really want to have to make friends with Cole Walker’s girlfriend or do you want to be Cole Walker’s girlfriend?”
Tamara’s gorgeous face flashed in my mind.
I grimaced.
Rae nodded. “Mmm-hmm. That’s what I’m saying.”
* * *
When I strolled into the Walk the next evening, Rae at my side, I found myself filled with anticipation. I didn’t know why . . . I just had this feeling in my gut that something was about to happen.
Cole, Simon, and Tony had grabbed a table in the corner of the room and had started drinking without us. As soon as Tony spotted us across the room, Cole turned his head and held my gaze as we approached.
I couldn’t look away.
He smiled and stood up when we reached the table, pulling the chair out next to him for me to take a seat. “How’s the tat?” he asked once I’d settled.
“Itchy.”
He chuckled. “It will be. Let me see it.”
My hyperawareness of him meant that every interaction with him made me think of sex. When I shifted around in my seat, I couldn’t look at Rae because my blood was hot and my mind was in the gutter and I knew she’d take one look at me and see that. Cole lifted the hem of my cardigan and the silk camisole underneath it so he could appraise his work. I braced myself for it, hoping I could control my reaction, but as soon as his fingertips brushed the skin around the tattoo I shivered.
“Have you seen it?” he said.
“Rae took a picture on my phone.” I cle
ared my throat of its sudden huskiness. “It looks amazing. Thank you.”
He traced the skin along the waistband of my jeans. “You’re welcome.”
The need to turn around and jump him was overwhelming. So overwhelming I jerked away from his touch and shrugged my hem back down. Everything felt too tight—my clothes, my lungs in my chest, even my skin. Never had I felt this explosive level of frustration before.
“It looks wonderful.” Tony nodded his approval. “Very sexy.”
“Agreed.” Simon smiled.
“Thanks.” I smiled weakly. Already needing some distance from Cole, whose ludicrously delicious aftershave was driving me nuts, I asked if anyone wanted a drink. Rae, however, stole my getaway by insisting on buying the round.
“So, I’m meeting Tony’s mother for the first time,” Simon announced. “Please tell me one of you is getting married, having life-threatening surgery, a baby, or some big-ass event on June twentieth?”
Tony scowled. “You are not getting out of this, Sy. Mama is very traditional and she needs to know that her darling child is being taken care of by a man.” He frowned. “I’ve spent two years telling her you’re all man and now you’re acting like a little girl. Where are your bloody balls?”
Simon shrugged. “They jumped up inside me at the mention of in-laws.”
Cole and I burst out laughing, sitting quietly, entertained by Simon and Tony as they argued. When Rae returned she regaled Tony with less than helpful stories of her encounters with Mike’s straitlaced mother. The whole time I sat there in silence, aware every time Cole reached for his pint or shifted infinitesimally closer to me.
I kept glancing out of the corner of my eye, my gaze roaming his tattooed forearm, before fixating on the chunky Indian silver ring on his big hand.
Not only was I hyperaware of Cole’s body; I was painfully aware of my own. My lips, my tongue, my breasts, the insistent throb between my legs . . .
It was ridiculous. And it had never happened to me before, so I didn’t know how to deal with it. Finally I got an excuse to move away from Cole when it was my turn to buy a round of drinks. Walking over to the bar, I took a deep breath and attempted to mentally coax myself out of the desirous stupor I was in.
Echoes of Scotland Street Page 13
