Each time his eyes landed on her he was unable to keep the grin off his face as she flung herself into his arms, unheeding whatever grease or dirt might be on his clothing. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and he found his mechanics to be grinning all day as well.
Now was one of the times that he wished he did not have to be away from her, even though she was just across the street. Before becoming involved with Rose, he did not mind running two businesses, especially since the tattoo shop was only open certain days for limited hours. But now, all he wanted to do was be with her.
A car drove down the street and parked just in front of his shop, and he readied himself for the client. It was a female who said she was in Baytown last year for a vacation and had seen his shop then but had now decided she wanted a tattoo.
She stepped out of her car and walked straight toward his door. High heels. Short, tight skirt, low-cut tank top under a jacket. He greeted her as she walked in and led her over to the counter. When she called for the appointment, she said she wanted a butterfly on her bikini line.
He already had his book open to butterflies. Inviting her to look, she placed her elbows on the counter and leaned forward. He kept his eyes on her, refusing to take the bait and drop them to her cleavage which she was so blatantly putting on display. It was on the tip of his tongue to say, ‘Lady, ain’t nothing I haven’t seen before’, but he kept his mouth shut, maintaining complete professionalism.
Leading her over to the workstation, she pulled her skirt up to her waist and laid down on the table and slid her thong strap down.
“That’s enough,” he barked, not needing her to strip just for a tattoo on her hip bone.
She pouted her bee-stung lips, and he wondered how much Botox had been injected. Ripping open the packages for the cartridges and needles, he readied his tattoo machine. Leaning over her hipbone, he applied the stencil, then held up a large mirror for her to check it out before he began.
She simpered as she cooed, “Oh, I love it. Don’t you?”
“Not for me to say,” he answered. “It’s yours, and it’s permanent, so you need to make sure it’s what you want.”
“Well, I like it, but I’d like to have the opinion of a man,” she continued. “Is it something that would turn you on?”
Leaning back in his seat, he pinned her with a hard stare. “Ma’am, I want to make sure that you’re happy with the stencil before we proceed. What does and doesn’t turn me on has nothing to do with you. But what does have to do with me is the fact that we’re wasting time on this conversation.”
Her eyes flashed with something he was not able to define and did not care to.
Huffing, she finally said, “Yes, I like it.”
“Thank fuck,” he mumbled. Turning on his tattoo machine, he bent over her hip and began working. She continued to want to chat, or rather flirt, but he pretended that he could not hear her over the noise of the machine.
She winced occasionally, and he asked her if she needed a break. She refused, so he continued to work. Finally finished, he covered it with antibiotic ointment and a sterile bandage. He rolled his chair away from the table and stood, turning back to his workstation. Pulling off his gloves, he dropped them onto the tray and walked toward the front counter. He heard her moving around slightly and called over his shoulder, “I have the care instructions printed out as well as basic tattoo information.”
When she did not answer, he walked back to the curtained workstation. She had stripped out of her skirt and top, her large breasts bared with nothing on but her thong and the bandage over her hipbone.
Fury flew through him, and he said, “Get dressed, pay your bill, and get the fuck outta here.”
Eyes narrowing, her hands landed on her hips, and she bit out, “Are you kidding me? Jesus, I’m handing you all this, and you’re turning me down?”
“Lady, you got all the female body parts that every other female in the world has, and you’re not the first I’ve ever seen. What matters to me is what’s on the inside, and believe me, you ain’t got it. Now get dressed. Pay your bill. Get the fuck out.”
Turning, he walked back to the counter, and a moment later her credit card slammed down next to him. After running the charge, he pushed the card and her instruction sheet across the counter to her.
Her Botox lips sneered as she threatened, “You know, with you in here alone, it would be so easy for me to cry assault.”
The hard stare he gave her caused her to step back slightly, her bravado dropping. Jerking his chin up toward the corner of the room, he said, “Because I work in here alone, I’ve got security cameras.”
Her head jerked around as she looked up at the camera in the corner and gasped. “You’ve got me on the camera?”
“Maybe if you kept your clothes on you wouldn’t be so embarrassed right now. But, no. You were standing behind the curtain, so you’re not on camera, but I was. The whole time. So I have proof that I did nothing but your tattoo.” Standing to his full height, he crossed his arms over his chest and said, “You got dressed. You paid your bill. Now get the fuck outta my shop.”
With that, she turned on her heel and hurried out, leaving him standing in the middle of his shop, alone and pissed as hell. Hands on his hips, he dropped his chin and stared at his boots, willing his anger to leave. Finally sucking in a deep breath, he turned and walked back to his workstation. Taking the foil that covered the tray, he carefully pulled it forward and onto itself as he wadded it up and took it to the trash.
Wiping down the table with disinfectant, he heard his front door open. He knew his previous client was the only one with an appointment, and normally walk-ins were welcome. But not today. Sighing, he walked from behind the curtain and grinned when he saw the three men standing just inside the door. Zac. Callan. And one of the new members of the AL, Scott.
“What brings you guys around?”
“We were at the pub talking, and Scott mentioned that he was thinking about getting a new tat. I realized it was one of your evenings here, so we came,” Zac said.
He looked over at Scott, one of the accountants in town who worked with Lia. At first glance, Scott looked like any young businessman. Dress pants and shoes. Button shirt with a tie. Shaved face and trimmed hair. But underneath the unassuming, professional exterior lay the heart of a warrior. On the AL ballfield, coaching the kids, he wore shorts that showed off his prosthetic leg, courtesy of his time in the Army. The one thing Jason had never seen on Scott was a tattoo.
Scott grinned at Jason’s perusal and patted his leg. “I got my first tattoo just above the amputation. I liked it so well that I’ve included a few more. When I’m wearing my prosthetic, they’re hidden. But I’ve decided I’d like to keep going up my thigh.”
“Is there much scarring there?”
Shaking his head, Scott said, “Nope. All the damage was below the knee.”
Smiling, he said, “Whatever you want, I’ll do. It’ll be an honor, man.”
Scott walked behind the partition and dropped his pants before settling in a chair and removing his prosthetic. Jason looked at the work he had now on display and nodded. “You’ve had good work done.”
“From what I hear and see, you’ll be just as good,” Scott said.
Jason ascertained that Scott was right…his thigh was unblemished and would make a perfect canvas for whatever Scott decided he wanted. After his last disastrous client, enthusiasm rose in his chest again, excited for what he would be able to create.
Moving back to his reception area while Scott reattached his prosthetic, Jason looked at Zac and Callan, now sitting in chairs with their feet spread out in front of them, lounging. Zac was looking around the interior of his shop and asked, “Do you ever think of expanding? Getting another artist in here?”
Rubbing his chin, he chuckled as he walked over to the door and locked it, turning off the Open sign that was hanging over the door. He moved to his small refrigerator in the back and grabbed four bottles of beer, handing them to his fri
ends. Plopping down into a chair as Scott walked back into the room and did the same, he said, “Funny you should ask that. Right before you came in, I was just wondering if I wanted to stay open.”
Surprised expressions met his comment, and he continued, “Don’t get me wrong, I love this. I love the artistic expression. But the garage takes up most of my time and is what pays the bills. Plus, I gotta admit, I really like that work.”
“Are you thinking about selling this business?” Callan asked.
Shaking his head, he said, “I haven’t given it that much thought.” They were quiet for a moment while he pondered Callan’s question, then said, “No. I wouldn’t want to sell the business. I like doing this on the side.” Looking over at Scott, he said, “I like the idea of being able to pick and choose my clients, working with them to create their vision.”
“In the summer, this place stays pretty busy,” Zac commented. “With the hours that you normally put into the garage and here, that doesn’t leave a whole lotta room for Rose.”
With a rueful snort, he agreed. “That’s another thing I was thinking about. As things progress with her, I hate the idea of working all day, evenings, and half of the weekends. As soon as her shop opens, she’ll be working a lot too, and it will be even harder for us to spend time together.”
Scott shook his head and added, “Even if you’re right across the street from her.”
Once more, they were quiet for a moment until Zac spoke. “It’s normal, don’t you think? That your goals and dreams change over time.” The others looked at him, and Zac continued, “When I first came back to Baytown, I wanted the Fire Chief position. I got it, and I loved it, but then I was also leading the rescue squad. I lived in a small-ass apartment over the fire station, and it didn’t matter that I was on call practically twenty-four seven. What the fuck else was I gonna do?”
“And then Maddie came to town,” Jason said with a grin.
Zac grinned in return and said, “Yeah. I wanted to have more time with her, and when I really looked at the two jobs, I realized that being Fire Chief was no longer my number one priority. I preferred being the Rescue Captain when that job became available.”
Callan leaned back in his seat and said, “You forget that you even had a career change when you left the military before all of that. I stayed in the Coast Guard for years, but it wasn’t until I realized I didn’t want to leave Baytown and I had Sophie back in my life that I knew I didn’t want to reenlist. Now, starting with the Virginia Marine Police, I get to do what I love and stay in Baytown. But a year ago? I hadn’t even thought about that career change.”
“I had planned on career Army just like my father,” Scott admitted, drawing the attention of the others. Patting his leg, he said, “The fates had other plans. I finished my college degree and ended up coming here, where my grandfather had run the accounting business.” Grinning, he added, “Now, I haven’t found a special woman that has made me want to make any major life change. Yet.”
At Scott’s last word, Jason barked out a laugh. “It’ll hit you when you least expect it. It wasn’t until Rose landed back in town that I even considered making a change here.”
“So, what kind of change are you thinking about?” Zac asked.
“I want to stay the owner of the tattoo shop but be able to hire someone else to work. The problem is that it would only be part-time work because there’s just not enough business for it to be full-time. So, I need to find an artist that I like and trust, who’s good with part-time work.”
Zac held his gaze and said, “You know, you could always ask our old friend to come into town. God knows I’ve sent enough messages to him in the last several years.”
Jason knew who Zac was speaking of. An old Navy buddy that had never found a home once he returned from his tour overseas. “Yeah, I’ll reach out to him again, but who the fuck knows where he’s traveled to by now. Until then, I’m going to cut back on my hours here, taking only appointments and not drop-ins. That way, I’m not sitting around wasting time to see who might come in when I can be with Rose.”
Lifting his bottle, Zac said, “Here’s to life changes and the women who make it all worthwhile.”
Laughing, the others lifted their beers and drained their bottles. Closing up the shop as the others left, he locked the door and headed across the street.
16
While Jason was at his tattoo shop, Rose reveled in the fact that she had familiar furniture in her apartment, and it felt so much more like home. She had planned on spending the evening putting everything away, but with her friends’ help during the day, almost everything had been accomplished.
She sat on her sofa with the wooden chest on the coffee table and more letters scattered about. She had received a phone call from Mona earlier telling her that she discovered Charles and Millicent Carson did live in Baytown and worked in a shop just off of Main Street. It appeared they also lived over the shop.
At that news, Rose had done a happy dance around her living room, now knowing that the couple lived and worked in the very same building that she was now occupying. Mona had also told her that they ran a dry goods shop. That did not surprise Rose because Charles had made reference to material, thread, yarn, and had even mentioned hat materials.
The idea that Millicent would be working in the shop below, greeting town women as they came in to purchase their material and sewing supplies made her smile. Thinking of her running the store mostly by herself since Charles was away gave her a sense of camaraderie with the woman who lived there over a century ago.
Glancing out the window, she watched as Callan, Zac, and Scott entered Jason’s shop, and she smiled. She had watched a female client going in earlier, stopping just outside the door to adjust her clothing, which included hiking up her skirt and tugging down her shirt. Rose had just rolled her eyes and then grinned when later the woman stomped out, her face in an ugly grimace.
Glad that Jason’s friends were coming by, she turned back to the letter she was studying. It seemed that Charles was giving instructions to Millicent in the case of a storm. Rose knew that hurricanes could impact the Eastern Shore and had never considered what it might have been like in the late 1800s. But there was one word she could not determine.
In case of a storm, if there is great wind then do not take yourself to the letter…
“Letter?” she wondered aloud, nibbling on a fingernail as she tried to decipher what he meant. “He can’t mean ‘letter’.” The curly cues of his script made it difficult to discern what word he was actually writing. She tried to think of other words…better, teller, maybe shelter?
I know you would be frightened and that is where you would want to go, but if the rains bring the Bay to you, the letter would not be safe. It could fill with water…
Laying the paper on her lap, she huffed, glancing out her window toward Jason’s shop, which was so similar to hers. A first-floor shop with living quarters on the second floor. Her attention was snagged as she watched Jason and his friends walk out of the shop. He waved to the others before heading across the street toward her.
Quickly shoving the letters back into their envelopes, she piled them into the wooden chest and placed it on the end table next to the lamp. Standing, she started toward the front door just as Jason came bounding up the stairs, but having stood too quickly once again, the room swayed.
Her knees buckled as she reached out to grab the back of a chair, but her hand landed on a muscular chest as strong arms scooped her up before she fell.
“Rose! Baby, are you all right?”
“Yes, yes. I just stood too quickly.”
He placed her back on the sofa and squatted in front of her, his gaze roving over her face. “You’re a little pale. Stay right here, and I’ll get you some water.”
He brought over a chilled water bottle, and she drank thirstily. “You’re working too hard, Rose. I should’ve been over here today, helping out!” he said, frustration in his voice.
&
nbsp; “Sweetie, I had nothing but help today. The movers did all the heavy lifting, and with all the women in here, things got put away and cleaned. Seriously, I barely lifted a finger today.”
“I’ll bet you didn’t eat, though. And you’re probably not drinking enough water,” he protested.
“Katelyn had pizza delivered, so I ate lunch. But you’re right,” she conceded, “I probably got dehydrated.”
“Well, I’m making some changes at my tattoo shop, so I’ll be around more often.”
Crinkling her brow, she asked, “Changes?”
Nodding, he said, “I’m not going to keep open hours at the shop. I’ll go over if I have a client who has an appointment. And I’m no longer going to see a female client unless there’s another female around—”
Eyes wide, she asked, “Oh, dear. Does this have anything to do with the grumpy, oversexed woman I saw coming out of the shop earlier?”
Grumbling, he said, “You saw her?”
She giggled and nodded. “I wasn’t spying…honest. I saw her walk in with an air of expectation and then later walk out, looking like she was denied something she wanted.”
Barking out a chuckle, he nodded. “Yeah, you got that right. When she didn’t get what she wanted, she insinuated that she might start rumors about me anyway. I showed her the cameras in the shop, and that shut her up right away.” Sighing, he shook his head slightly and said, “I really like the artistry of the shop, but it’s only busy during the vacation season for the most part. I told the guys tonight that I was already thinking about being open for appointment clients only and seeing if I can find another artist who wants to work part-time.”
She reached up and touched his jaw, her thumb moving over his beard and her fingers tangling in his hair. “Sweetie, I want you to do whatever makes you happy.”
He grinned and leaned in for a light kiss, mumbling against her lips, “This, right here, is exactly what makes me happy.” He kept the kiss light, then leaned back and asked, “Are you feeling better now?”
Sweet Rose: Baytown Boys Page 13