by Lindsey Hart
“Did you at least eat?”
“Eat?”
“And you flew?” Bella rolled her eyes. “God. That panther is like at least a six-hour tattoo. My advice… put it somewhere less painful, like the side of your leg or the top of your thigh. Don’t go near the back. Or your forearm. That’s a good place to start. You won’t even feel that after the first half-hour.”
Rhett stepped up to the desk and the sweet scent of Bella’s perfume tickled his nose. It tickled more than that and his cock jumped to life. He tamped his desire down and told himself to get a serious grip. As in, stop popping obvious boners in public in a pair of jeans that were probably a little too tight. He’d gone for a more casual look. No tux this time. Just jeans and a plain black T-shirt that he may or may not have picked because it happened to show off the better parts of his arms and was, like his jeans, a little too tight, and clung to his stomach.
He reached for the clipboard and glanced at the waiver. There were probably at least thirty boxes to check off.
“We take this seriously,” Bella informed him. “Even if it’s a spur of the moment decision you may or may not regret later, we want people to disclose any pertinent medical information and understand the risks. Tattoos hurt. They’re also for life.” She pegged him with a hard glare.
“Funny, I thought that about marriage too.”
Bella rolled her beautiful soft velvet eyes. She grabbed the jar of peanut butter, produced a spoon out thin air, and slid it over alongside the clipboard. “I want to watch you eat five spoonsful of that. Minimum. If you don’t, I’m not letting you back here. Also, I’ll go make you a large cup of really sugary juice. And I’ll bring out a few suckers. What were you thinking not eating?”
“The flight was early?”
“I’ll bet it fucking was.”
Bella turned and brushed her hair behind her ear. Rhett nearly let out a shocked sound when he realized that those big plugs in her ears had been replaced with some kind of hollow looking tunnel. She had a large, thick hoop stuck through.
She smiled at him like she knew what he was thinking. “This is just a double zero. Hardly large at all. The guy tattooing you, his stretchers are the size of my fist.”
“Great.” Rhett swallowed hard and grabbed the jar of peanut butter and the forms. He took them and stalked over to the couch. Even though he kept his head bent as he got to work filling out the very thorough paperwork, he felt Bella’s hot gaze on him. He chanced a glance in her direction but found her back turned. She wasn’t watching him at all.
Or maybe she was just that smooth.
Why the hell am I even here? This is the worst idea in the history of terrible ideas.
His pen flew across the paper, checking off boxes. He knew exactly why he was there. He might as well have his own personal checklist as well. Life falling apart. Check. Get accused of having a small dick. Twice. Check. Lose your man card to a guy named Bob. Check. Never stop thinking about your shitty ex’s not so shitty sister. Check. Use images of her O face to get off in private. Check. Still have the bluest balls, so blue they’re purple. Check. Fly across the country for a glimpse at said ex’s not so shitty sister. Check. Let my dick do all the thinking. Check, double-check.
Rhett literally stalked Bella, found out where she worked and flew all the way to Detroit not to get a tattoo, but because there was something about her that he couldn’t get out of his mind. Or out of his soul. Out of his…
Not going to go there. System. I can’t get her out of my system.
He was tired of walking around all day pining for someone who was long gone. He should have meant Sarah, but he didn’t. Once he got over the initial shit sandwich that was their wedding day, he felt surprisingly free. Like if she showed up at their house one day, no, his house, he’d actually thank her for what she did. For sparing him from being locked into a loveless marriage.
The crazy part was he actually found himself wishing it could have been Bella. That he could have met her earlier, instead of Sarah. That it was their wedding day, except that it went off without a hitch and right now instead of sitting on an antique couch that had seen better days, filling out a waiver that scared him shitless, about to get some random piece of art poked into his skin for life, he was banging Bella on their kitchen table. Or in their shower. Licking that fucking peanut butter off her breasts or something.
He shuddered, but it wasn’t a shiver of disgust.
Nope.
His cock currently refused to think of anything but that mental image. Bella. On the kitchen counter. Covered in peanut butter, her perky nipples slick with his saliva because he’d just suckled all that delicious nut butter off of them.
Kill. Me. I seriously need help. Probably an exorcism or something. Likely. Because she’s some kind of demon or ghost haunting me. He’d never felt so helpless in his life.
So instead of staying in nice, comfy Phoenix where he damn well belonged, licking his wounds, trying to figure out what the next step in his suddenly not so ordinary life was. He should have let his family and friends in, should have been grieving the death of his marriage.
Not always fanaticizing about Bella. Using their little whiskey-fueled session as spank bank material. Not planning on how the hell he was going to find her and get her back into his bed.
He was a good boy. At least, he used to be.
The problem was, between his wedding day two weeks ago and now, he had no idea what the hell happened to him.
CHAPTER 7
Bella
How ridiculous was it that Rhett was there, at her shop, sitting in Rick’s room, ready to get a tattoo he totally didn’t even want.
She saw right through him. He could have just like… texted or something, if he was going to hunt her down. Not that I would have answered.
Bella crept silently over to the closed door of Rick’s small room. She leaned her ear up against it, thought it was pretty unnecessary since the door was basically hollow. Rick’s voice drifted out.
“So. Your first one, huh?”
Rhett’s voice was less sure, though he tried to keep a level tone. “Yeah. That’s right.”
“Can’t ever go wrong with a panther. They’re classic. Traditional tattoos are the way to go. They’ll always look good, even if you’re lucky enough to hit a hundred.”
Bella smiled. It was the same thing Rick always said. Always. Like, even to existing clients who knew what to expect. He had guys on their tenth or fifteenth or twentieth tattoo, most or all with him, and he still gave the same little speech. It was okay though. Rick was a good guy. He was approaching fifty, was a huge man who liked to wear faded jeans and leather jackets, drove a bike, and had almost no bare skin left, a good half tattooed by himself on himself. His shaved, tattooed head and huge flowing black beard with the wild streaks of grey intimidated more than a few people. The face tattoos along his temples and jawline, blending into the ink on his neck, didn’t help either. Bella knew Rick was a softy though, right from the minute she met him.
“Right. Uh…”
“So, where were you thinking for placement?”
Rhett hesitated. “My lower leg maybe?”
“Excellent place for a panther. I like how it looks alive like it really is crawling up, moving. It makes the art look really good.”
“S-sure.”
Rick’s voice sounded through the room, the humor in his tone was unmistakable. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m going to need you to lose those pants. Then, we’ll get started. I keep the door closed, but if you’re nervous about being in your skivvies, I’ll get you one of those paper sheets.”
Bella clapped her hand over her mouth to contain a giggle. That was also something Rick always said. He disliked it intensely when his clients showed up for work on an area and weren’t prepared. Like, if they were getting work on their lower leg, why not wear a pair of shorts? Seeing as it was Rhett’s first tattoo though, Rick’s voice didn’t have the normal cutting sarcasm he sav
ed for his regulars who still didn’t get it.
“No- uh- that’s fine. No sheet needed.”
Bella didn’t even know Rhett really- uh- aside from sleeping with him on the most inappropriate day of inappropriate days, but she could tell how nervous he was. She’d been through that with a lot of clients. First or second timers or people going through a tattoo in a painful area. They knew it was coming and that it was going to hurt. She didn’t mind dealing with the nerves. She did what she could to calm the hysterical down and the rest, she let them ride it out. She always found the adrenaline helped carry her through the first hour into a state of numbness when she settled into it and could actually enjoy it. Even the painful ones.
“You’ll hardly even feel it on the side of your leg. A few little pricks here and there. It’s going to feel like a weird burn, maybe a little sharp, a little pinchy. Hang in there. Don’t panic or anything. It does numb out quite quickly. You won’t feel anything again until I start the shading and go from there. It will probably feel a little raw then. Again, don’t worry. That isn’t the worst of it.” Rick’s movements as he set up his room were obvious. He moved with methodical ease and Bella imagined all of it, even though she couldn’t see any of it. “You’ll hate the raw meat feeling the worst. We like to call that the hamburger stage around here, but don’t worry. You won’t think that way until it’s just about done, then I’ll numb it out and wrap it up and you’ll be good to go. In a week or two, you’ll be as good as new and probably ready to come on down for another.”
Rhett laughed nervously. Bella grinned. God, it was true. She’d been so scared for her first one and now, she had so many she’d actually lost track of how many hours she had in. Too many, her sisters would say. Way the heck too many- her parents thought. Not enough yet.
There was a rustle of clothing shed in the room and Bella’s skin tingled. A prickling awareness raised the hairs on the backs of her arms. Damn. She’d never understood the whole fly on the wall statement until that moment. She’d give anything for a peephole into the room. Just so she could ogle Rhett’s solid legs. Maybe catch a glimpse of his boxers cupping a tight, granite ass. As in, he could probably crush shit with that ass.
She thought of cracking nuts open between his cheeks and she had to whirl away from the door before her giggles alerted Rick and Rhett that she was creeping on the other side of the door.
There was a noise in the room to her left and she barely had time to dodge away from the door and pretend to be busy sorting through supplies to place an order, before Scott emerged.
“Bella? Can I get some juice in here?”
“Sure.” She straightened. “How bad?”
Scott, a twenty-two-year-old who was the shop’s first apprentice, who just also happened to be a killer artist and a complete natural, shot her a private grin. She flashed him the thumbs up. “I would say, on a sweetness scale, we’re at about an eight.”
“Don’t worry. I’m on it.” She left the supplies she wasn’t doing anything with in the first place and flew back to the small kitchen area. She poured a quarter of a bag of crystals into a small cup and added about a tablespoon of water. The mix was strong enough to stand a spoon straight up.
She had it back in Scott’s hand in no time. He took the cup, glanced it and, raised a brow and flashed her another one of his winning smiles. He was super charming, had none of the attitude young people sometimes got, and was genuinely one of the kindest guys she’d ever met.
“Thanks. I owe you one.”
He also had a huge crush on her, but Bella always pointedly ignored it. She had rules. Dating co-workers wasn’t one of them. Apparently fucking my sister’s groom on his wedding day is okay. She gave her head a shake.
“That’s okay. We don’t want anyone fainting.” An eight on the sweetness scale meant Scott’s client, a middle-aged man who also owned a bike and wore leather- which was obvious because he’d come in dressed from head to toe in leather jacket and leather chaps over leather pants and parked his bike in front in the no parking zone- was just about in la-la land.
“Definitely not on our watch.”
“Those forearm tattoos. Tough to get you know, especially an hour in.”
“I checked the forms,” Bella whispered. “It could be something medical, but he didn’t disclose anything about blood pressure or blood sugar issues.”
Scott winked. He would never make fun of a client, ever, or say anything bad about anyone, but sometimes he couldn’t resist a little good-natured ribbing. “Don’t tell anyone but sometimes the guys who act tough might be over-compensating for not being tough at all. Which is okay. Just don’t judge a leather-clad book by its cover.”
Bella laughed softly. “Of course. I’m just glad I could help.”
After Scott went back into his room and closed the door, Bella forced herself to head up to the reception desk and actually do a little bit of real work. The supply order really did need to be placed. Trash needed to be emptied. The guys took care of cleaning their own rooms, but she had the lobby to straighten. Scott needed new business cards, seeing as he officially wasn’t an apprentice anymore. The list went on and on. She always managed to stay busy, even on slow days.
It was harder knowing that Rhett was there, but the hours ticked on and before Bella even knew it, Rhett emerged from Rick’s room, jeans back on, looking none the worse for wear.
She tried not to pout about not even getting to see his new tat. Or see him in his tight boxers. The fact that she’d do almost anything to catch a glimpse of his backside- which looked entirely too amazing in his sinful jeans that he probably picked out and wore in by doing a million squats and practice sits so that they cupped his rock solid cheeks just right- was a little bit of a surprise.
I should punish myself for thinking like this. It’s not right. It also wasn’t right that it had been two weeks since she’d slept with Rhett and she still thought about him. Dreamed about him. She might have even ventured into unknown territory and touched herself while thinking about the amazing O’s he’d given her in their last session- unknown being the thinking about Rhett part. Not the touching herself part. And seriously… no. Not last. First and only session. Because there is never going to be a next time. There can’t be. My parents would kill me.
“If you want to come up to the counter, I’ll take care of payment for you,” she forced out past a thick, closed up throat.
Rick, who emerged from his room, still stripping off his black gloves, shot her a strange look. He raised a brow and glanced at Rhett, but she quickly shook her head and turned. She powerwalked up to the counter faster than the group of ladies she always passed on her way home from work every Tuesday night. They looked funny walking like that, and she imagined she looked ridiculous too.
She reached the desk and gripped the edge like a lifeline in a crazy ass storm.
That crazy ass storm just happened to be named Rhett. Hurricane Rhett. It had a nice ring to it.
“Uh- Rick?” she turned, blushing. It was the first time she’d ever not asked what to charge. Usually, he volunteered the information, but the shit-eating grin on his face told her that he liked seeing her squirm. Which was new. She was never anything less than composed. Her palms dampened and she managed to be an adult and not stick out her tongue.
“Five hours.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Rhett was now on the other side of the desk, where he belonged. Safe. He was a safe distance away. Bella ducked her head and busied her hands gathering the aftercare package, which was a sheet of instructions and a jar of Vitamin E jelly. The stuff was awesome, at least she thought so. Took the burn and itch right out of healing tat.
Rhett would be far away tomorrow. There was no such thing as far enough. He could be back in Phoenix. It didn’t matter. Her pulse still spiked every time she thought about him.
Three.
Did he really have to give her three orgasms? Good ones too? The man probabl
y set out to ruin lives all the time. Three. Jesus.
“Um- okay. So- your- uh- care instructions are all here. It’s pretty simple. Just leave it alone as much as you can. Don’t scratch or prick. Use the Vitamin E or some tattoo cream or something unscented. Believe me. Perfume is a bitch in there and so is anything chemical. Just- yeah. Follow the sheet.”
Rhett frowned slightly, but his eyes danced, and she had the feeling he was laughing at her. “I survived. It’s alright. I’ll figure it out.”
Bella let out an undignified snort that was supposed to come out more as a sarcastic sigh. Her face heated up a thousand degrees. And so did her body, because right then, Rhett leaned in. He put his elbows on the countertop and actually leaned so that his face was mere inches from hers.
“I did my time. So- will you do yours?”
“What are you talking about?” she ground out.
“Will you go out with me now? For dinner?”
While her heart went into a spastic thundering that stole her breath, she feigned nonchalance. She actually rolled her eyes. “Next time you want to take me out, you could just ask, you know. Call? Text? Show up? You didn’t have to get something on your body that’s there for life if you didn’t really want it? And spend a thousand dollars.”
Rhett gaped at her. “That’s how much it is?”
“I assume you can afford it, given that you financed my sister’s lifestyle for so long.” It should have been rude and as soon as the words were out, Bella was horrified at herself, but after a long pause, Rhett actually laughed. He laughed until his shoulders shook, a full belly, amazing kind of laugh.