NYC Artists 1 - In a Heartbeat

by Decker, Ally

  Contents

  In a Heartbeat

  About This Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  More From Ally

  About Ally

  Copyright

  IN A HEARTBEAT

  New York City Artists #1

  Ally Decker

  Website | Newsletter

  THE FIRST BOOK IN A NEW SERIES!

  A guy walks into a tattoo parlor...

  Elliot is a cardiothoracic surgeon who wants a tattoo to commemorate a professional dream coming true. What he doesn't expect is a tattoo artist who turns out to be his high school crush, a woman he hasn't seen since they were both eighteen.

  Naomi is a drifter, never staying anywhere for long, which means there's not a lot of people who really know her. Elliot Dolinski had been one of them, a long time ago, but she hasn't thought about him in years, not until he walks into Lion's Den with his beautiful smile and a tattoo design that's going to be a start of something neither of them may be ready for.

  Featuring: unexpected reunion of two high school friends, second chances, tattoos, hot sex, family drama, and two people who don't believe in fairy tales.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Elliot lowered himself onto a chair, but instead of reaching down to lace his boots, he slumped with his elbows on his knees as he looked down at his hands. Their weight seemed too heavy all of a sudden, so he just let them fall between his legs. His mind had been busy for several hours, wired in the surgery mode, running with every little detail—the blood flow, the state of the vessels, the clock running in his head, and the reports from the anesthesiologist. Now, it drizzled down to nothing, to a weird hum in his head and the acknowledgment of tired muscles finally seeping into his consciousness.

  But the adrenaline hadn't worn off yet.

  He did it.

  His first heart transplant.

  He'd assisted on a few over the years, but this one was the first with him as the lead, and that made all the difference. He was going to remember his patient's name and health history for the rest of his life. Before the surgery, Hannah Webster had told him he would be an important part of her life forever for saving her life, but what she didn't know was that it worked both ways. He wasn't going to forget her, either.

  Elliot had no idea how long he'd sit like that, staring at his hands as his mind slowly came to terms with the reality, if it wasn't for someone entering the doctors' lounge.

  He raised his gaze and smiled at the sight of Chin, the Cardiothoracic Surgery chief resident and a good friend.

  "Hey." Chin offered him a grin and raised the mug he'd just filled with coffee in a gesture of a toast. "Congrats, I heard everything went well."

  Elliot sat back in his chair, stretching his fingers against his thigh. He didn't want to jinx it since anything could always happen, but… "Yeah. I couldn't ask for a better first time."

  "That's what he said," Chin deadpanned as he leaned against the counter of their small kitchenette. "But seriously, I overheard a few youngsters, they may be starting a shrine."

  Elliot snorted. "Yeah, especially those who say I have a stick up my ass."

  "You can be uptight and still a god."

  "Thanks, I guess."

  "Anyway, celebratory drinks are in order. What do you say? Tonight? On me."

  "Sorry, I can't tonight." Elliot could feel a wave of new energy flooding through him as he remembered his plans. He needed to get a move on if he wanted to make his appointment on time. "Rain check?" he asked, reaching down to finally lace his boots.

  "Oh, I see, you're too cool for us mere mortals now," Chin teased, offering another smile when Elliot stood up and met his gaze. "Rain check it is, then. Have fun."

  Let's hope so. "Thanks. See you tomorrow?"

  "Bright and early."

  With that, Chin left the room, and Elliot checked the clock as he put on his coat and his lucky hat. It was old and worn-out, the black wool now faded to gray, but there was no way he wouldn't have it with him on the day like today. He'd had that hat from the early days of med school, through every hard exam, every interview, every new and difficult challenge that came with the territory of his field. He was going to retire with that hat on.

  Now, Eliot asked about Hannah at the nurse's desk and, happy with the update, headed out onto the cold winter day in New York City. He burrowed his hands deeper into his pockets and in the left one, his fingers brushed over the card he'd kept there for days now. He could picture the vibrant colors against the black background of the card, the logo and the address, and the time and date of his appointment written in a bright purple pen on the back.

  Lion's Den, the tattoo parlor in Brooklyn with a six-month-long waiting list full of people who probably had more ambitious or at least cooler designs in mind than he did. What he had, though, was Jace Denney for a best friend. And Jace had connections everywhere in the artistic world of New York City.

  "Call it an early job-well-done present," Jace had told him four days ago as he'd handed Elliot the card. It had been less than twenty-four hours since he'd caught Elliot checking out tattoo parlors, looking for one that felt right and could fit him in at short notice. "I forgot about your tattoo idea, but I like it, so I made some calls."

  Which was how Elliot was now on his way to fulfill a plan he'd come up with years ago, on the Match Day, when he'd found out he'd gotten into the Cardiothoracic Surgery residency program at Columbia. He'd had the perfect design stored on his phone for almost as long.

  The train ride felt endless, but Elliot's renewed energy propped him to deal with the usual crowd and occasional nastiness in fairly good spirits. Once back out on the street, he followed his phone's directions and headed down the well-lit, busy street, filled with the stands of various artists. He was tempted to pause once or twice, but he cared about his destination more, so he strode towards the parlor without stopping.

  It was situated in a side alley, with fewer streetlights and far fewer people. Elliot took a deep breath as he paused near the parlor's entrance, a few feet away from purple-red neon sign. He suddenly wished for a cigarette, and, damn, he'd not missed those cravings. He gave up smoking seven months ago and he rarely thought about it these days, but now…

  The doors of the bar on the other side of the street opened as the group of young people came out, and the noise of music spilled outside. When he registered the song, he snorted. Country music fit this place almost as much as he did, but one never knew. He was here, about to get a tattoo, so anything was possible, after all.

  He shook his head before taking the last few steps and getting in.

  The light was blinding at first, but then his eyes adjusted and he could look around. Behind the sprawling, deep-red front desk sat a boy who looked barely legal, with three rings in one ear and a bolt in the other. The walls were gray, probably to compliment the colorful artwork framed and displayed all around the space. There was a partition wall behind the boy, and Elliot could hear the buzz of what he assumed was a tattoo gun, but he couldn't see anything.

  "What can I help you with?"

  The unsubtle once-over the boy gave him and a quirked brow tha
t followed clearly said he didn't think Elliot belonged anywhere near this place.

  "I'm here for an appointment." Elliot pulled out the card. "Six thirty with Ed Norris?"

  The boy's frown turned into a grimace. "Oh shit!" He sat up straighter. "You're the guy from the thing." Then, before Elliot could say anything, he shouted, "Naomi! Get in here!" towards the back.

  "Is there a problem?" Elliot asked, but then the partition wall slid open and a woman came out.

  A woman he recognized easily, despite the years that had passed since he'd seen her last.

  "Justin, what did I tell you—" She paused when her gaze landed on Elliot. Her eyes widened for a split second and he knew she recognized him, too.

  "Hi, Naomi." The card in his pocket had to be a mess now for how hard he clamped his fingers over it. Fuck, it had been so long, and she barely looked different. She was still short and her hair was still black, only now it was blue at the ends and cut in an asymmetrical line. And Elliot's stupid heart reacted just like it had back then, too.

  For all the ways he'd imagined this evening going, this was not one of them.

  "Hey, Elliot." She rested her elbow against the counter and switched her weight onto one leg, the other hooked over it. Just like she used to.

  He couldn't believe he remembered such a small thing.

  "He's the guy from the thing," the boy—Justin—said, and it broke the moment as both Elliot and Naomi turned to look at him. "Ed mentioned it, but I forgot."

  Naomi grimaced. "So did I."

  "I'm guessing it's not going to happen?" Elliot asked as he tried to shift his focus back on the reason he was here in the first place. Everything else could wait. Preferably forever.

  "Ed's got a nasty case of flu," Naomi explained, looking up at him again. "We thought we'd canceled all the scheduled appointments, yours was just not on the log. But," she added quickly when she had to see the disappointment on his face, "if you have a design ready and don't mind someone else handling it, I'm free now and I could do it for you."

  "But—" Justin started, only to stop at the look Naomi sent him.

  "I don't mind," Eliot heard himself say. He didn't. He wanted to walk out of here with his tattoo, the perfect ending to a great day. But he also didn't want to cause Naomi any trouble, and he told her so.

  "It's no trouble." She stood up straight and gestured towards the back. "Shall we?"

  For a split second, he was in high school again and the new girl was smirking at him after he bumped into her on his way to AP Biology class. It's no trouble, she told him after he apologized, and her smirk turned into a genuine smile when he handed her the book she dropped upon collision.

  Those words had turned out to be a lie, but Elliot wasn't the same person now, and neither was she. It was just a business appointment, nothing more, nothing less.

  "Sure," he said. "Let's do this."

  CHAPTER TWO

  The last thing Naomi expected when she got up this morning was to get a blast from the past in the form of Elliot Dolinski. They had been good friends once, before it all went to shit at the end. But with years passing, the feeling of betrayal faded away, leaving behind a dull echo of a hurt that once seemed so big.

  It may actually be nice to catch up, she decided as she led Elliot towards her station in the back of the work room. She ignored the looks Boyd and Fiona gave her from their stations, where they were working on their clients. So what if she'd been planning on taking off early today? It wasn't like emergencies never happened to them. And yes, she'd talked about that free evening for the last week or two, since she'd been really slammed with things lately, but shouldn't they all care about the parlor's good name? It didn't matter if it was Ed who had dropped the ball. Naomi was willing to pick it up for him. She was a team player like that.

  Yeah, fine, maybe that last one was an overkill. No one had called her a team player in her life. But still. She was willing to take this one on, so they could all shut up—or at least stop with their staring.

  "Thanks for doing this." Elliot's voice pulled her out of her internal monologue and she looked at him when he sat down on the chair. Damn, he'd grown up well. He'd always been good-looking, but back in high school it was softer, unassuming. Now, one would have to be blind not to notice the sharp lines of his face, the broad line of his shoulders… Not to mention his height. He'd hit six feet in his senior year of high school, but it seemed like he'd grown even more after that. Naomi might have been on the short side of the average, but it was still unusual that they were the same height now when she was standing next to the chair he was sitting on.

  "It's no trouble," she told him, turning to glance at her station. She'd packed everything up for the night, but it would only take her a few minutes to set up, since she had it down to a science now. "Unless you have a sprawling back piece in mind."

  Shit, she hadn't even asked him about the design. Get your head in the game, woman.

  Elliot chuckled and Naomi's chest expanded on a shaky inhale. Uh-oh.

  "No sprawling back pieces for me, thank you. Just this." He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a piece of paper.

  She loved this part of her job—the moment when someone shared their design, their vision of what they wanted to have painted on their body forever; the moment on the brink between mystery and knowing, right when anything could happen.

  She was almost afraid to look now.

  When she opened the piece of paper he handed her, she had to swallow down a nervous laughter that came out of nowhere.

  "Anatomically correct heart, huh? Professor Yalom would be proud," she said, staring at the design, trying to decipher it. She'd seen a lot of designs involving hearts over the years, ranging from completely cheesy to downright horror-ish, and it always meant love—a new one, an old one, a lost one. She'd never asked for details if a person didn't volunteer, but she'd heard many stories over the years.

  For some reason, she wasn't sure she wanted to hear this one.

  "I'm sure he would be," Elliot agreed with a grin. "My med school professors would be, too, I bet. Meanwhile, my patients would probably just be relieved I know where everything goes."

  Ah. "Med school, huh? I'm guessing you specialize in fixing broken hearts?"

  "You laugh, but I do. Cardiothoracic surgeon, at your service." As he said it, he sat up straighter and there was a confidence in him that hadn't been there earlier. "That's for a celebration," he added, pointing at the design. "I led a heart transplant team today for the very first time."

  "Wow, that's…" Naomi shook her head. Forget the love stories, that was impressive. "Congratulations!"

  "Thank you."

  The smile he gave her now was almost cocky and, wow, who was this man? The old Elliot had never been like that, leaving all the cockiness and charm to his best friend.

  That thought was like a bucket of ice-cold water.

  She cleared her throat and glanced back at the design. "So, do you want the tattoo to be just like this or do you want me to change it somehow? I can add something, like a scar, or a stitched line, or—"

  "No," he cut her off and she looked up at the vehemence in his tone. "Sorry," he added in a normal voice, but there was a frown on his face as he ran his hand over his head. "I just… I want the heart whole."

  "Whole heart it is. You're the one with medical expertise, after all," Naomi joked, wanting to bring them back onto a solid ground. She would take a cocky smile over that frown.

  "That's true, but you're the one with a sharp object now," he told her with a lopsided smile. This one, she remembered. It was easy to answer in kind. "I'm not used to that."

  "At least you won't faint at the sight of blood."

  Elliot laughed. "How much blood are we talking about?"

  "Barely anything, by your standard. It also depends on where you want it."

  "On my chest, a little to the left. Right over the heart." He rubbed the place in question and she could feel warmth s
preading inside her in response. Warmth that had nothing to do with sex, and everything to do with tenderness. Somehow it reminded her of why she'd been friends with him back then. The guy who so many had thought was standoffish and rude, in reality was caring and honest, if he trusted someone enough to show them that.

  And a tattoo chair could be a very revealing place.

  "Let me set things up and then we'll get on with it." Her voice dropped almost to a whisper all of a sudden. "We need your shirt off. You can leave your clothes there," she indicated a hanger on the wall, "and then get comfortable."

  Over the years, she'd gotten used to telling people to undress, but there were times when she fumbled over it, made it awkward. Still, it would be more awkward if she went with "Take off your clothes and hop on it" line she usually used, because no way she wouldn't blush saying that to Elliot. Her overconfidence shtick had never worked with him.

  She got busy preparing her equipment and transferring the design onto the stencil. With both of them silent, she relaxed to the background noise of the parlor—the buzzing, the instrumental music from the speaker in the corner, whispers of conversations too quiet to be overheard. She went into the zone, quietly humming to the music, but then she looked over to Elliot and, shit, fuck, that's just unfair. His broad shoulders looked even bigger without the shirt, and as she followed his arms down with her gaze, she saw the veins visible under his skin, lines and edges she would gladly map out with her lips and tongue. And his fingers… his freaking fingers were going to feature in her fantasies for sure.

  When she looked up at his face, she realized he'd closed his eyes. Ouch. While she was freaking out over his hotness, he was apparently feeling relaxed enough to make himself right at home in her tattoo chair.

  At least he hadn't caught her staring.

  "You ready?" she asked quietly.

  He opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times, and she could so clearly imagine him waking up like this in her bed—or his, she didn't care.