“Everything in the shop looks great.”
“We’re getting good advance buzz,” Emmie said. “We’re very optimistic.”
“Moving a tattoo shop into the other side of the store was… innovative.” Adrian shuffled his feet. “I really hope it works out for you.”
Emmie nodded and smiled. It was hard to forget Adrian’s initial reaction to Emmie’s reopening the shop.
“I’m serious,” he said. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot, and I’d like to make it up to you. Buy you a coffee?”
“I don’t know. I’m really bus—”
“Just to catch up,” he said. “Also, my mom was asking about you. She’s so excited Metlin is going to have a bookstore again. Plus her birthday is in a couple of weeks. I was hoping you could recommend a book.”
“Okay.” Curses! She couldn’t say no when someone asked for a book recommendation. It was a compulsion.
He stepped to her side. “What can I get you?”
A few minutes later, they were settled into a corner table at Café Maya while Daisy shot them laser looks from behind the counter. Emmie ignored her and focused on Adrian, who was drinking tea while she sipped her latte.
“So… San Francisco, right?” he asked.
She nodded. “I was up there for school and working part-time at a big bookstore.”
“A chain?”
“No, an independent place. An institution, really. Lots of big-name authors would come in for signings. Major events. It was pretty cool.” She smiled. “Well, pretty cool for a book person.”
Adrian smiled. “Sounds pretty cool for anyone. That was always your thing in school. Books, right? Smartest girl in class.”
Oh yeah, because that had been the title her sixteen-year-old self had wanted. “They hired me on full time after I graduated. I was an assistant manager and did all their displays.” She shrugged. “It was good. They paid well.”
“And now you’re your own boss,” he said. “Was that something you wanted?”
Emmie thought about it. “Not consciously. But I guess when you grow up with your grandma and your mom working for themselves, it feels like a natural transition.”
“Your mom still doing the…?” He played air guitar.
Emmie laughed. “Yeah. A lot of studio stuff lately. Some of her own pieces. Some covers. She keeps busy. She’s touring with a band next year. She won’t tell me who yet.”
“Sounds cool.”
“She is cool.” Emmie sipped her coffee. “I was always the straight arrow in the family.”
Adrian looked at her and a smile touched his lips. “Straight arrow looks good on you, Marianne Elliot.”
Emmie covered her face. “I forgot you knew my real name.”
“Perks of working in the high school office.”
Emmie groaned. “Why?”
“Why do you hate it?” he asked. “Marianne is a beautiful name.”
“Marianne Elliot sounds like a sad Jane Austen character who gets passed over for a more witty cousin.”
“That’s not true.” He laughed. “At all.”
“That’s because you don’t read Austen.”
“So tell me what to read. You’re the professional.”
Emmie smiled. “Funny.”
“I’m serious.” He leaned forward. “You were right. I don’t read enough. How am I supposed to impress beautiful women at dinner if I don’t read books?”
Emmie was speechless.
“So what Jane Austen novel should I read? Pick one, I’ll read it, and then… we can go to dinner and talk about it.”
Emmie stammered, “Are… are you using Jane Austen to ask me on a date?”
“Yes.” He raised an eyebrow. “Did it work?”
“Sure.” She spoke before she thought twice. Her eyes went wide. What was she doing? She’d just accepted a date with Adrian Saroyan. If she were sixteen, she’d be ecstatic. At twenty-seven, she didn’t know what she was thinking.
He asked, “Did you surprise yourself by saying yes?”
“You surprised me first, so I’m blaming it on you.”
Adrian smiled and brought his mug to his lips. “So the Jane Austen thing worked.”
“Sense and Sensibility.”
“Is that the book?” He took out his phone. “I’m making a note now.”
“You better not buy that online,” she said. “I have a copy at the shop.”
“But you’re not open yet.”
“I’ll make an exception, and you can pay me back later.”
“Cool.” He leaned on the table. “So when are we going to dinner?”
“How fast do you read?”
“Pretty fast when I’m motivated.”
Emmie’s head was starting to spin. Was this real life? Why was Adrian Saroyan asking her out? She grabbed her cup of coffee and stood. “I need to get back to work.”
“Great.” He stood and slung his coat over his shoulder. “I’ll follow you over and get my book.”
He followed Emmie out of the shop and she studiously avoided both Daisy’s laser eyes and the phone buzzing relentlessly in her pocket.
Oh, she was going to have some explaining to do by the time all this was over.
Chapter Thirteen
Fucking Adrian Saroyan and his shiny fucking shoes and his ruthless smile hidden by veneers.
Ox glanced up from his sketch book and just as quickly looked away. What the hell, Emmie? That guy?
A voice that sounded a hell of a lot like his late brother-in-law said, Then get off your ass and make a move, idiot. Your excuses are bullshit.
She was his partner. His landlord. Hooking up with Emmie would be catastrophic when it ended.
If it ended?
Maybe it wouldn’t end. Maybe she was the one.
Getting way ahead of yourself there, Oxford.
How did you pursue someone when the consequences of it going bad were so very, very bad? At this point they’d both invested thousands of dollars and the shop wasn’t even open. They had to make this work. Getting involved would complicate everything. It could be great, but the chances were much greater that at some point, he’d fuck up and she’d hate him.
“Some people bring out the worst in each other. Some people bring out the best.”
“Which kind am I?”
“What do you think?”
It didn’t matter. It didn’t fucking matter how much he wanted her. He couldn’t have her. He couldn’t have her and the shop, and he needed to want the shop. He needed to get his shit together and make a real go of running his own business. Screwing around with his landlady was not part of the plan.
But Adrian Saroyan?
Ox’s brain was a jumble. He broke his pencil twice trying to sketch out new book flash for the walls near the café.
Adrian had followed Emmie back to the shop, trailing after her like a puppy. Sadly, she hadn’t been scowling. Adrian waved at Ox as he walked in and wandered around her bookshelves, making dumb jokes that somehow made her laugh. Then he’d picked up a book and said something about how fast he could finish like he was bragging.
Finishing fast is not something you brag about, asshole.
Ox knew he was probably talking about the book, but his mood was foul and he didn’t want to think about the asshole even touching Emmie. He was already standing too close.
Anywhere in the shop is too close.
Ox stood and grabbed his jacket. “I’m going out.”
Emmie looked away from Adrian. “Okay.”
“Can I grab you a coffee on my way back?”
She shook her head. “I just had coffee with Adrian, but thanks.”
“Right.” Ox glared at Adrian. “See ya.”
“Nice to see you again.” There was a triumphant glint in the asshole’s eye.
Ox grunted and quickly left through the 7th Avenue door, walking down the street to his truck. He climbed in and started it, banging on the dashboard when it hiccuped. He’d put a new
starter in the week before. It shouldn’t still be doing that. It had been rebuilt, but Sergio assured him that he’d done it himself and Sergio was the best mechanic in Metlin. Ox drove south on 7th, turned left on Sequoia and then north on 6th Avenue, taking the back alley into Supreme Automotive, the shop Sergio ran with his uncle Beto.
Sergio walked out, wiping his hands on a red rag and frowning at Ox when he rolled the window down. “What’d you do to my truck this time?”
“Not your truck, asshole.”
The older Sergio got, the more he looked like his dad, barrel-chested and burly. Sergio wouldn’t win any beauty contests, but he had a never-ending parade of cute girls dropping their cars off at the shop, so he wasn’t a stranger to problems with women.
“Someone’s been spending too much time with pretty girls on Main. Frustrated much?” He thumped the hood and unbuttoned his coveralls, tying the arms around his waist when Ox turned off the engine. “It’s too warm for this time of year. I’m dying in the bay. What’s wrong with it?”
“I just want to check the starter. Make sure I didn’t forget something.”
“We rebuilt this thing with Stu when we were kids,” Sergio said. “You know what you’re doing.”
Stu Oxford, his grandfather, and Sergio’s uncle Beto had taught both Sergio and Ox the basics of auto repair on the old Ford pickup. Sergio had kept learning. Ox had lost interest.
“What’s wrong?” Sergio asked.
“I don’t know.” Ox climbed out and lifted the hood. He leaned over the passenger side and rested his elbows on the edge, reaching down to check his work as Sergio looked over his shoulder.
“Dude, there’s nothing wrong with that starter. I did it myself.”
Ox knew that. He knew it was nothing but a hiccup. He just wanted to talk to Sergio. “I think I’m screwing up my shop.”
“The tattoo shop? Dude, you haven’t even opened yet. That’s not a good sign.” Sergio frowned. “How could you be screwing it up? You out of money already?”
“No.” He kicked his boot against the tire. “It’s this girl.”
“Is Ginger messing with you?”
Ox frowned. “No.”
“Oh.” Sergio smiled. “Book Girl?”
“Yeah.”
Sergio leaned against the grill and ran the rag over his manifold. “You know, there’s a reason I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Because you’re a workaholic who doesn’t know how to take a vacation and all your girlfriends break up with you because they get sick of it and also your mom and your sisters scare them away?”
Sergio opened his mouth. Closed it. He mumbled, “Yeah, probably that’s part of it.”
“I know the smart thing to do is stay away from her. I know that. Don’t shit where you eat, right?”
Sergio squinted. “I never got that saying. I mean, hooking up with someone is nothing like shitting. It’s like the opposite.”
“I think it’s more the breaking up with someone that’s the shitty part.”
He shrugged. “Who says you have to break up with her? You said she’s a sweetheart. Why would you break up with that? I mean, we’re not kids anymore. When my dad was my age, he had three kids already. You find a nice girl, it’s a sign.”
“Dude, this is me.” Ox leaned back and reached up, waiting for Sergio’s hands to clear before he let the hood fall. “When have I ever not screwed up with a woman?”
Sergio threw the rag over his shoulder. “I don’t know, man. Everyone screws up until they find the right person, don’t they?”
Ox considered that. It had a certain amount of logic. Of course he’d screwed things up with Ginger. He’d known from the beginning that hooking up with her was a bad idea. He’d known that in his gut. With Emmie, he didn’t get the same sense of dread. But it was still a huge risk.
He curled his lip. “I think she might have a thing for Adrian Saroyan.”
“The real estate douchebag who’s trying to sell everything on Main and 7th?”
“Yeah. They knew each other in school.”
“Huh.” Sergio shrugged. “Well, if that’s her type, I don’t see her going for you.”
“I know.” He leaned on the hood. “She’s not my type anyway.”
“Yeah, probably not. You said she was nice and smart and brings you coffee. Definitely not your type. If you said she was a drama queen who liked to throw shit at you and pick fights in bars, then I’d say you definitely had a shot.”
“Fuck you, Sergio.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Damn.”
Emmie turned around. “What?”
Ox stood in the doorway of the 7th Avenue entrance, staring at her.
“Ox?”
“Damn… I forgot my book at home.” He dragged his eyes away from her and over to his side of the shop. “You look nice today.”
“Thanks.” Emmie frowned, glancing down at the skinny black jeans and T-shirt she was wearing. “Tayla picked it out.”
“That shirt comfortable on your back?”
“Yeah, the scabbing isn’t too bad.”
“Let me know if you need anything for it.” He took off the old leather jacket he wore when he rode his bike and hung his helmet on the hook by the closet door. “It’s getting cold out there.”
Ox was living at his mom’s ranch in Oakville, about a thirty-minute drive from Metlin, but she had to imagine the wind was vicious when he was driving in the country. He’d spoken about his mom Joan, his sister Melissa, and his niece, who was nine, but Emmie had yet to meet any of them.
“No truck today?”
“My sister needed it. She was taking some goats to Abby’s class today.”
“Goats?”
He turned and grinned. “You like goats?”
“Sure.” Her face heated up. “Who doesn’t like goats?”
“Me.” Ox laughed. “They’re devils.”
“They are not.” She turned around and got back shelving books. “They’re just misunderstood.”
“Okay, you get your favorite shirt eaten and tell me how misunderstood they are,” he growled. “Just don’t show up at the ranch in those jeans. There’s hardly anything left of them as it is.”
“Tayla calls them ‘artfully torn.’”
“Okay, sure.” He cleared his throat. “By the way, my mom might be coming by today. She’s been begging to see the shop, and she claims it’s unfair to make her wait until the opening.”
“Oh cool! Can’t wait to meet her.” Emmie reached for the top shelf in the science fiction section. “Ox, were you looking at these?”
“Yeah, sorry.” He walked over and reached over her head. “Last night. I probably got them out of order.”
“Did you already finish The Martian?”
“I did. I couldn’t put it down. Melissa’s reading it now.”
“Cool. He has a new one out. I already ordered a couple of copies.”
“Nice,” he said, flipping through a collection of Asimov short stories. “Maybe I can start some kind of account. That way I can pick up stuff for my mom too. I no longer have control of the television remote.”
“Reading more?”
He scraped at the stubble on his chin. “Since I prefer that to Disney channel? Yes.”
“Just let me know what you want.”
“Do those go up there?” He pointed to the books in her hand. “Hand them here.”
“I can get a stool.”
“Or I can do it because I’m right here.” He smiled and grabbed the books. Ox towered over her, quickly putting the books in the correct order. “Anything else?”
Do that again, but shirtless.
Emmie smiled. “Nope.”
Ox ran a finger along the spines of the new books. “You got me hooked on reading again, and now I don’t have enough time.”
Emmie watched his finger. She was a bad person. She was a very bad person. She cleared her throat and forced her eyes away from his hands. “Your mom was a tea
cher, right?”
“Yep.”
“But no college for you?”
“Oh, she wanted me to go.” He shook his head as he walked back to his side of the shop. “My grades were okay, but I hated school. Well, I liked art, welding, and shop class. Other than that, I hated it. Melissa went. She has a degree in biology.”
“Fair enough.” She opened a box of new historical romances. “So how did you start tattooing?”
“My high school girlfriend suggested it after seeing my sketchbook,” he said. “I checked it out and decided it would be fun to train. Figured I could help out on the ranch and make some extra money during the slow season.”
“But it ended up being a full-time job, huh?”
He shrugged and opened his laptop. “Melissa and my mom don’t need much help, so they let me coast.”
“And now you’re a business owner.”
“Yeah, I am.” His expression turned grim. “It’s gonna be good.”
“It’s gonna be great.” She wished she could feel more enthusiastic, but as they counted down the last days till the opening, her nerves were as jumpy as his.
“Are we crazy?”
Emmie turned to see Ox staring at her. “What?”
“You and me.” He leaned on the counter, his eyes locked on her. “Are we crazy? We don’t have business degrees. I’ve never run a business before. Neither have you. Are we nuts to think we can do this?”
“No.” She said it with more confidence than she felt. “We’ll run into problems we don’t expect, but we’re smart. We work hard. We’ll figure it out. And there’s two of us. We can back each other up, right? That’s more than what a lot of new businesses have.”
He smiled slowly. “I got your back.”
“And I got yours.” She nodded. “See, we’ll be fine.”
His eyes drifted across the street. “I’m surprised Ginger hasn’t been blowing up my phone.”
Emmie hadn’t told him about Ginger’s visit. It wasn’t necessary, and she didn’t want to talk about it.
“Maybe she just realizes that there’s room in Metlin for another shop. You’re certainly not her only competition.”
“Yeah, maybe.” His expression said he didn’t believe her. “Anything I can help with?”
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