by Regina Cole
I shook my head as I stepped into my panties. There was no way I could be as good at it as he was. The man had skills in the bedroom, and I must have disappointed him.
Buttoning my pants, I looked around for my bra. Now that my brain was off and running headlong into paranoia, there wasn’t any stopping it. What if he’d only wanted to get into my pants? There were guys like that, after all. But Neill hadn’t seemed anything like that. I moved the shirt I’d been wearing yesterday and spotted the bra folded neatly beneath it. Shrugging it on, I looked downward.
If that’s all he’d been after, and I had disappointed him, would he fire me now? Maybe not from the receptionist job but from the apprenticeship? I’d had a great thing going on, I knew that. During some downtime at the shop, I’d looked up message boards for tattoo apprentices. Most of them did what I did but without pay. Some of them paid thousands of dollars to work with a talented established artist. I had the best setup in the business; had I just fucked it up by being a bad lay?
“Come on, Hailey, don’t be an idiot,” I muttered to myself as I put on the wrinkled top I’d worn day before yesterday. God, I needed to get back to my room, if for no other reason than to pick up a change of clothes. These jeans could probably walk out of here on their own.
Once dressed, I padded into the hallway, listening. Water was running in the bathroom, so I shrugged, moved into the kitchen, and started the coffeepot. As I waited for the magic brew to start its drip, I closed my eyes and took a deep, calming breath.
What had happened between me and Neill last night had done something to my feelings for him, that much was obvious. I had tried to keep him at arm’s length and failed miserably. So, what now? I cared about him, that was undeniable. And if I was going to keep myself from going crazy wondering how he felt, I’d have to do the impossible.
I’d have to come right out and ask him how he felt about me.
The squeak of the bathroom door opening down the hall made my heart skip, and I busied myself grabbing mugs out of the cabinet. Neill appeared in the kitchen doorway, his jeans riding low around his hips and revealing the top band of his boxers. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and a towel was slung around his neck as he used one end to dry his hair.
“Oh, that’s great. Thanks for starting the coffee.”
“No problem,” I said with a nervous smile, my fingernails scraping across the edge of the countertop in a nervous beat. “It’s almost ready.”
As if on cue, the coffeemaker beeped. With a trembling hand, I poured two cups of the steaming brew and took them over to the table.
I slipped into the seat I’d used yesterday, watching as Neill prepped his coffee the way he liked it. He moved from refrigerator to pantry, stepping through the same beam of sunlight twice to get back to the table. The light illuminated small droplets of water on his chest that the towel had missed, highlighting the definition there. He sat beside me and took a cautious sip, letting out a pleasured groan. “Tastes even better than usual. Thanks.”
I nodded in response. “No problem.” My tongue was in knots, and I took a sip of my own coffee, hoping to loosen it. The black brew was scalding, but I didn’t care. What should I say? How could I ask him? Maybe I should ease into it . . . Yeah.
“Thanks for listening. Last night, I mean. I didn’t mean to dump all my problems on you.”
Neill gave a half-smile. “It’s all good. I’m a decent listener.”
“You’re a great listener,” I corrected him. Silence fell again and I shifted in my seat, wondering if this would ever get easier. A shadow waved across the wall as a playful breeze tossed the leaves of the climbing rose in front of the kitchen window. The small movement didn’t give me any answers, but it did prod me into speaking.
“Listen, about last night,” I said, staring down into my coffee. “I don’t want you to think that I do that a lot. I mean, I’m not easy or anything.”
“I never thought you were,” Neill said in a quiet voice. I chanced a glance over at him. He was staring down at his coffee, too. His large hands enveloped the mug, making it seem much smaller than it was. Kind of like those hands had made me feel last night—small, delicate.
“I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t, well, care.” I knew I should say more; I wanted to, in fact. But the words wadded up in my throat.
When he didn’t say anything, I had no choice but to look straight at him and force the words out. “And I just wanted to ask you, well, if you did. Care, I mean. About me.”
He took a long sip of coffee before replying, and I wanted to scream with anticipation. Just answer me, Neill. Please, just tell me you care about me.
“Of course I care. You’re great, Hailey. You’re a wonderful friend.”
The word crashed into me like a train. “Friend?”
He nodded. “Yeah. A great friend.” Draining the rest of his coffee, he rose and took his cup to the sink.
I stared straight ahead, stunned. I wasn’t sure what to say. What else there could be to say that would fix this.
“I need to finish getting ready. I’ll be back in a few minutes to take you to school.”
Neill disappeared down the hall, which was good. I didn’t want him to see the tear that was tracking down my cheek.
I had never imagined . . . No. I didn’t want to be his friend. I wanted to be much more. Even though I’d known it was a bad idea, I wanted him to feel about me the way I did about him.
But I’d been wrong.
With a derisive snort, I stalked over to the sink and dumped the last half of my coffee. I thought I had learned from my parents’ mistakes.
Love never got you anything but a broken heart.
Neill
Sunday seemed like the longest day I’d had in a very long time. I’d said goodbye to Hailey at my front steps. She’d declined my offer of a ride back to school, saying there was no need, since there was a bus stop a few houses down. I’d wanted to kiss her but hadn’t.
I’d been a total dick.
I sat at the front desk, at her desk, and waited for the clock to click over to the hour so I could get the hell out of there. Roger had finished his cleaning and was already out the door. Frankie had cut out half an hour ago. I stared down at the black computer screen, wondering what she was doing. How she was feeling after I’d pretty much pissed on what we had shared last night.
With a heavy sigh, I leaned forward and raked my hands through my hair. I hadn’t wanted to tell her that last night had meant something to me. I didn’t want to get hurt again, so I’d diminished it. I’d hurt her before she could hurt me.
A bitter laugh echoed softly back at me. As if she could ever be just my friend. As if friends had sex that incredible without it meaning anything.
I scratched the counter softly, remembering. It had been so great at first, waking up next to her, tucking her soft curves close to my body. But then I’d remembered. How it felt before when I’d lost everything. And I couldn’t face it again.
“You’re a coward, Vanderhaven,” I said to myself softly. “A damn coward.”
The beep that signaled the front door came then, and I looked up, startled. But when I saw the older guy, I stood and nodded politely. There were, after all, ten minutes left for the shop to be open. “Hey, what can I help you with?”
The man was wearing a drab gray suit, something that looked like it came straight out of a conservative rally in 1997. He came toward the counter, something strange in his drawn, disapproving expression. “I’m looking for Hailey Jakes.”
I straightened, not afraid to use my height to intimidate. “She’s not here, but I’m her boss. Can I help you with something?”
The guy’s gaze raked me up and down, taking in everything. I saw the familiar sneer, the look of disgust when small-minded individuals looked at my tattoos, and I calmly stared back. I wasn’t apologizing for who I was or what I looked like. This was my turf, and if this guy didn’t like it, he could fuck off.
“I’m a . .
. friend of hers. I just wanted to say hello. She told me she was working here, invited me to check it out.” The man gave a thin smile. “I’ll come back later.”
I folded my arms. “She doesn’t have time to chat when she’s on duty here, man. Maybe another time.”
The older guy looked like he wanted to respond, but he didn’t. He just nodded tightly and turned, heading out the door.
“What the fuck?” I said after the door closed behind the guy. I watched as he climbed into an old Town Car and rumbled down the street.
Uneasiness pricked along my spine. I made a mental note to tell Frankie and Roger about the stranger. Between the three of us, we could keep an eye out for Hailey.
Shaking my head, I sank back down in the chair to lock the safe. But when I turned the chair, something caught my eye. “What the hell?”
A large stack of reference books was thrown haphazardly onto the bottom shelf of the bookcase. They’d slid sideways, whatever was underneath them obviously a bit off-kilter. Shaking my head, I pulled them out and started restacking them. But the book on the bottom wasn’t shut all the way. Curious, I pulled it into my lap, letting it fall open.
The magnolia blossom was there, flattened, pressed into a sketchbook.
She’d wanted to keep it.
God, this had been the longest fucking day.
Monday morning was rainy, gloomy, and awful. Kind of like my mood. I was soaked by the time I got to the shop. Motorcycles were great about nine months out of the year and except when it rained.
Roger laughed as I came in. “You should get a car, man. You look like you ran all the way here in a hurricane.”
“Shut up, Rog.” I stalked to my studio, ignoring the trail of water that followed me. “My bike is fine.”
Roger followed. “Want me to get a mop?”
I turned, exasperated. “Why are you even asking . . .” I trailed off as the back door opened again. “Karl!”
My longtime friend and mentor came through the door, scowling. “Who left the damn faucet on? I’m in New Orleans for a month, it’s sunny and gorgeous, and I get back here and the weather’s shit.” He squeezed water out of his ponytail, leaving drips all over the floor. “Fucking sucks.”
“Welcome back,” I said with a genuine smile. “It’s good to see you.”
“You, too,” Karl said with a laugh. “Roger, get this shit off my floor. Have I missed anything?”
“Come with me,” I said, shucking my jacket. “There’s a few things that changed while you were gone.”
“I don’t know that I like the sound of that,” Karl grumbled as he followed me. “Serves me right for selling you half this place. I know you, I should have known better.”
Once we were inside my studio, Karl turned and gave me a slap on the back. “It’s good to see you, son.”
“I’m not going to lie, it’s great to have you back. But I think you’ll be impressed with how I handled things while you were gone.” At least I hoped he would.
Karl chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. He was so tall that his head was nearly even with the top of it. “I wouldn’t have made you part owner if I’d thought you couldn’t handle it.”
I sat on my stool, folding my hands calmly. “Well, Tasha’s gone.”
Karl’s face lost all traces of amusement. “What?”
“She got pregnant, and they moved so they’d be closer to her husband’s family.”
Karl crossed his arms, brows lowering in concern. “That’s not good. We’ll have to find somebody to take care of the front desk.”
“Already done,” I said. “She’s a college student, art major.”
“Tattooed?”
“Not yet,” I said, mentally crossing my fingers. That was kind of a big deal to Karl, and I knew it. “She loves them, though.”
Karl sighed, scratching his goatee. “Well, if you and the other guys like her, I guess that’s okay. She doing a good job?”
I nodded. “Absolutely. She’s taken over everything Tasha did and more. I . . .” I swallowed, knowing this wouldn’t be easy. “I kind of made her my apprentice.”
“You did what?” Karl’s voice was incredulous. “Are you fucking serious?”
I tried hard to stay calm, but Karl was more like a father to me than a boss. Even though we were technically equals now, both part owners of the same business, Karl would always be my mentor, the guy who’d kept me from living on the streets when I was a stupid kid. I didn’t just want his approval; something inside me needed it. “Yeah, I am. She’s incredibly talented, has an eye like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Let me get this straight.” Karl started pacing in the small room. “You hired a replacement for Tasha. She was here for what, a week? And then you let her talk you into giving her an apprenticeship? How’s she paying for it?”
“She’s coming in early, staying late, doing extra stuff around here. I’m not charging her anything.” I stood, going toe to toe with Karl. “And before you say crap about it, you didn’t charge me a dime for my apprenticeship, either.”
Karl’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t say anything. I waited. I trusted this man more than anyone else in the world, and his good opinion meant so much to me. But I wasn’t backing down on Hailey. No matter what was going on between us, she deserved an apprenticeship. She deserved to have hope for her future. Last night at the restaurant, she’d made it clear that this opportunity meant the world to her.
And I’d be damned if I let that be taken away from her. Even for Karl.
Chapter Twenty
Hailey
I let the shop door close softly behind me, then stood my yellow umbrella in the rack by the door to dry out. Freaking rain. As I pulled off my hoodie, raised voices emanated from Neill’s studio. I walked quickly toward the front of the shop and the safety of my desk, not wanting to eavesdrop, but my name caught my ear.
“Hailey’s a great artist. She’s talented and willing to learn. Why shouldn’t I give her a chance?” Neill was talking about me, but to who? I moved more slowly to my desk, looking over my shoulder as I went, trying to get a glimpse inside the small room.
“I’m just saying you don’t know this girl. You’d lived with me for more than six months before I agreed to take you on as my apprentice. Listen, you’ve never done this before, but you know what happens to people who take on somebody without thinking it through. Remember that guy Roger was working with a couple of years ago, at the shop in Tampa, before he moved here?”
I set my bag in the cubby beneath my desk. I really shouldn’t be listening, but they weren’t exactly being quiet. And neither Frankie nor Roger was playing music, so the voices were the only sound in the shop. I stared out the rain-streaked front windows into the gray Monday afternoon as the discussion went on.
“You told me about him. He hung around for less than a year, then left to set up his own shop.”
I glanced over at the studio and gasped aloud when the person Neill was talking to moved in front of the door. Good Lord, he looked like a professional wrestler—a giant, tough, muscled, huge man. He was wearing black jeans and a tight tank top that showed off both his muscles and his extensive ink. His long blond ponytail was leaving a damp spot on the back of his shirt.
“He did. There’s a scratcher out there now with Roger’s good name on him. He’s doing shit tattoos because he didn’t put in the time to learn. What if this girl’s like that? She’s a college student, right? What’s to stop her from bugging out of here when the fall semester starts, and setting up shop in her damn dorm room?”
Neill was vehement. “Hailey’s not like that. I’m telling you, I trust her.”
The stranger sighed, dropping his huge arms by his sides. “But do you trust her with your career? Your reputation?”
I waited, holding my breath. I stared down at my hands, not realizing until then that they’d been clasped so tightly my fingers were going numb. The blood was rushing so fast behind my ears that I almost didn’t hea
r Neill’s soft reply.
“I trust her with all of that.”
I slammed my eyes shut against the rush of relief that consumed me. I’d spent the last twenty-four hours sure that Neill didn’t care about me, didn’t think I was worth anything. And now he went and said this? I couldn’t have been more wrong, and that was incredibly wonderful.
“I’ve got to catch up on some stuff,” the stranger said as he turned to leave the office. “Anything else I should know?”
Neill moved up beside the big man, and I hustled to look busy. I sure as hell didn’t want Neill to know I’d been listening, however inadvertently it had started. I pushed the power button on the computer, humming to myself as I straightened my desk.
“No, everything else is normal. Roger’s a pain in the ass, and Frankie’s been as reliable as usual. Typical fun.”
“Good.” The pair left Neill’s studio, and I glanced casually over.
“Oh, hi, Neill,” I said with a polite smile as I stood and turned to the filing cabinet, grabbing a random stack of papers, just to look busy. “How’re you?”
“Hey, Karl, speak of the devil.” Neill walked the guy over to the counter. “This is Hailey, our new Tasha. Hailey, this is Karl, the other owner of Sinful Skin.”
I put the pile of paperwork down by the keyboard, smiling up—waaaay up—at Karl. Jesus, the man had to be pushing seven feet. And with his longish blond beard, he looked kind of like a Nordic demon. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”
Karl, for all his doubts during the conversation with Neill, had a gentle smile and a handshake to match. “Good to meet you, too, Hailey. Neill’s told me a lot about you.”
I glanced over at Neill, who wasn’t looking in my direction. His hands were jammed in his pockets, and he seemed incredibly interested in the back door of the shop. “I hope it was good,” I said.
Karl laughed. “No need to worry there.”
“I hope this isn’t a rude question,” I began, but Karl stopped me.