INK

by Elizabeth Hunter

  Ox stood and pointed at the door. “Out. Right now.”

  “I bet your mom loves her. She’s as uptight as your sister.”

  Ox opened the 7th Avenue door and pointed outside. “I’ll call the cops, Ginger. Don’t think I wouldn’t. I’m not doing this shit anymore.”

  Ginger brushed up against him as she walked out. “No, you’re definitely not doing this ever again. Poor boy. I doubt she has you begging like I did.”

  Emmie’s face was on fire. Ox gave Ginger one last shove out the door and closed it. He walked to Emmie and grabbed her hand, walking toward the hallway. “Tayla, can you watch the shop?”

  Tayla stuck her newly red head out the office door. “What?”

  “Watch the shop, please?”

  Tayla glanced at them and must have seen something on Emmie’s face. “Yeah sure.”

  Ox paused near Mr. Read Not Buy. “You really should buy the book. You don’t even donate to the coffee jar when you come in. Not cool.”

  “It’s fine,” Emmie murmured. “Really it’s—”

  “It’s not fine,” Ox said. “She’s just nicer than me.”

  Tayla brushed past them and walked to the counter just as Mr. Read Not Buy stood and put the book back on the coffee table before he slipped out the door.

  “Why did you do that?” Emmie hissed once Ox had closed the office door. “Maybe he can’t afford the hardback.”

  “Have you seen his shoes? He can afford the hardback, he’s just cheap. If he wants free books, the library is four blocks away.”

  “The bookstore is my business, not yours. I don’t interfere in your shop. Don’t interfere with mine.”

  His mouth dropped open. “Seriously? I was sticking up for you.”

  “What you did was drive away a customer who didn’t buy today but might have bought something else tomorrow. You think he’s ever going to come back here now that you embarrassed him?”

  Ox closed his mouth and crossed his arms over his chest. “That dude was never going to buy anything.”

  “Maybe not. But you still embarrassed him.”

  “I’m not his mom and neither are you. If the man can’t handle someone confronting him about being an asshole, he shouldn’t be—”

  “He wasn’t being an asshole!” Emmie said. “Maybe he just liked hanging out here. Maybe he likes reading some place with company instead of being alone. Yeah, maybe he should have donated to the coffee jar, but that wasn’t your place to say. It’s my shop.”

  “It’s your shop now?”

  “The whole shop is ours. But when it comes to the books? Yes, it’s mine.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine!” Emmie felt like crying. Things had been going so well, and now they were fighting. Pretty soon they’d have a real fight, then Ox would get fed up and leave, just like all her mom’s boyfriends. Then Emmie would be out a boyfriend and a tenant. She’d have spent thousands of dollars redoing a building that—

  “For fuck’s sake, you’re freaking out again,” Ox said.

  “I am not.” She totally was. This was the beginning of the end.

  “We’re having a fight; it’s not the end of the world. Fucking Ginger. I only snapped at that guy because she pissed me off.”

  “Why does she piss you off so much?”

  “Because she was being rude to your customers.”

  “So you also decided to be rude to my customers?” Emmie blinked. “That makes no sense!”

  “I know!” His lips twitched. “Tell me that guy wasn’t irritating you.”

  “I nicknamed him Mister Read Not Buy in my head. Yes, he was irritating.”

  “So why are you mad at me?”

  “Because that’s just bookselling, Ox. Trust me, I’m going to get a lot of Mister Read Not Buys. And people who pull out books and put them back in the wrong spots. Why do you think I spend so much time reshelving books? There will be people who buy books and return them after they’ve read them. And people who don’t like a book and think they should get their money back. And teenagers who think they can get away with getting naked in the self-help section.”

  His eyes went wide. “What?”

  “Or whatever section is in the back corner. It doesn’t have anything to do with self-help specifically. At Bay City it was Religion and Spirituality.”

  “Kinky.” He narrowed his eyes. “People try to have sex in bookshops?”

  “Uh, remember the thing you wanted to do last weekend?”

  “But that’s because my girlfriend actually owns a bookshop and the back bookshelves are not visible from the windows, so there is no reason we couldn’t— You know, never mind.” He huffed. “What you’re saying is that you’re going to have all kinds of asshole customers and I can’t say anything to them.”

  “Just like I can’t get irritated and tell off the next group of college girls who comes in here and flirts with you for an hour, trying to show you their boobs to get your professional opinion on where the little heart tattoo should go.”

  His lip twitched again. This time it was almost a smile. “You could tell them off if you wanted to. That would be hot.”

  “And then they’d never come back to you for a tattoo.”

  He shrugged. “Worth it.”

  “Ox, will you be serious?”

  He hooked an arm around her waist. “Will you loosen up a little?” He played with the buttons on her sweater. “I like you buttoned-up so I can be the one to unbutton you, but we’re both going to have bend a little to make this work.”

  She took a deep breath. “Okay. Agreed.”

  “So in the spirit of bending, I am not going to tell off your irritating customers or drink the last of the coffee without making a new pot. But I draw the line at anyone who’s actually being threatening or harassing you. Don’t ask me to not react to that shit because that’s out of line.”

  “Fine. And how do I need to bend for you? Is there something I’m doing or some part of the bookshop that’s interfering with your work?”

  He fiddled with her buttons some more.

  “Ox?”

  “Honestly? No. You’re fucking adorable, and I love hanging out with you all day. I do wish you’d let me pick the music on the radio a little more, and I also wish you’d pursue a liquor license. At least for wine and beer. It would be really good for evening events. I know it’s expensive, but I think it’s worth the money. And Metlin doesn’t have anything like a wine bar downtown. It could pull in an entirely new clientele that would probably be good for both of us.”

  She nodded. “I will talk it over with Tayla and look into the liquor license thing.”

  “Also, you definitely need to get more jealous if girls try to show me their tits. Maybe fight a little. Tear your shirt while you wrestle—”

  “That is never going to happen.” She couldn’t stop the smile. “Ever. And you hated it when Ginger got jealous about girls.”

  “I think I’d kinda like it with you.”

  “Ego?”

  “Yeah.” He was still fiddling with the buttons on her cardigan. “Hey Emmie?”

  “Yes?”

  “We just had a fight.”

  “Would you really classify it as a fight?” She took a deep breath and calculated the odds of a relationship succeeding when a couple fought in the first month. Was that bad? Good? Average?

  Ox started to unbutton her sweater. “Oh, I’d definitely classify that as a fight.”

  “Why?”

  He crowded her until Emmie stepped back. And back.

  Emmie’s back hit the door just as Ox finished unbuttoning her cardigan. He slipped it off her shoulders and slid a warm hand under her shirt.

  Oh.

  “Because if that was a fight”—he bent down to whisper—“then we get to have make-up sex.”

  “Right here?” She felt behind her for the doorknob. She turned the lock before Ox slipped her T-shirt up and over her head. “Right now?”

  “Yes and yes.” He ben
t down and took her mouth in a leisurely kiss. “But we have to be quiet,” he whispered. “Can you be quiet?”

  “I’m always quiet.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up. “Not always.”

  “You be quiet then.” She reached for his belt and slid the worn leather through the loops.

  She undressed him with silent efficiency while his lips covered hers, exploring her mouth and swallowing her moans when his hands began to roam. Ox reached down and slid his hand up the back of her thigh. He worked her panties down until Emmie felt them around her knees. She kicked them away while he lifted her skirt, cupping her bottom and picking her up until her back was pressed against the door, her legs around his waist and Ox’s fingers teasing her.

  He was never a chatty lover, but the utter silence of the office made Emmie’s soft breaths deafening, driving her temperature higher, her need greater.

  Ox’s mouth was deep red and a dark flush stained his cheekbones. He reached for something in his back pocket, then grabbed a silver packet, tearing it with his teeth before he sheathed himself in the condom and then almost immediately in her.

  The angle drove a soft cry from her mouth and Ox covered it with his kiss, pressing her to the door while he thrust forward. He held her so firmly the door didn’t even creak. She ran her hands over his shoulders, played her fingers along the hard bands of muscle on his neck.

  “So strong,” she whispered, in awe of the mass of him and the effortless strength. He wasn’t just an artist. He worked with his body on the ranch, and the evidence was burning her up.

  “See,” he whispered back. “You’re good for my ego.”

  Emmie let the distant chatter of the shop fall away as he filled her senses. His hands. His flushed lips. The hard length of him. The massive strength he used so casually to bring her intense pleasure.

  His brow furrowed as he locked eyes with her. “Are you close?”

  She nodded. They were going to have to try this at home, because the angle was working in a big way. She fell into his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck as her focus narrowed on the building pressure and pleasure and the steady rhythm of his hips driving into her.

  “Emmie,” he groaned.

  “There.” She gasped and cried into his neck, the salt-and-cedar smell of his skin filling her senses as she came. Her mind went blank. Her skin was exquisitely sensitive to the feel of his flannel shirt against her belly and the denim against her thighs. She shook in his arms, the power of her release bringing tears to her eyes.

  Ox lifted her higher, drove into her harder, and bit back a curse. Emmie held on with the last of her strength. He arched his hips up and slammed a hand into the wall when he came. Then he spun around and his knees buckled as he slid down the door, holding her close. She straddled him and swallowed his own deep groans in her mouth.

  They sat on the floor, shaking and kissing softly. Ox framed her cheeks with his hands, brushing her hair back from her face.

  “I fucking love the look on your face right now,” he whispered. “I want to draw it, but I’m never going to. I’m the only lucky asshole who gets to see it, and I’m gonna keep it that way.”

  His rough words killed her. “Ox?”

  “Yeah?”

  She whispered, “Make-up sex is hot.”

  “Any sex with you is hot,” he muttered back. He smiled. “But yeah, make-up sex is hot as hell.”

  “I want to do it again, but I really don’t like fighting.”

  “I think that’s what they call a paradox.” He took a deep breath and drew her head forward until she was cuddled against him with her head lying over his heart. “Hey, Emmie?”

  His voice rumbled against her ear and Emmie smiled. “I know. We need to get back to work.”

  “Yeah we do, but…”

  “But?” She tried to pull back, but he kept her pressed close.

  “It doesn’t have anything to do with work,” Ox said. “But I want you to stop freaking out every time something goes wrong, okay? Shit goes wrong in life. In relationships. You can’t control everything, you just have to work on it.”

  She took a deep breath.

  “Do you get what I’m saying?” Ox said quietly. “We have a fight and your eyes go straight to the door.”

  Emmie’s first instinct had always been to run. Something not working? Cut ties and move on. And if you were really smart, you didn’t get tangled up to begin with, because the first time you gave someone influence over your life, they’d drop the ball or disappoint you or decide you were too much work.

  “I always hated group projects at school,” she blurted.

  Ox nudged her back and Emmie reluctantly sat up. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were quirked in amusement. “Group projects?”

  She lifted her hands, then let them drop. “It’s because… you’d get this assignment, right? And you want to get an A. But then you realize that not everyone wants to get an A. Some people don’t care at all about an A. So you end up doing all the work because otherwise you hand part of the project over to someone who doesn’t care. And everyone thinks you’re a huge control freak, but mostly you just want everyone to do well.”

  “But you don’t trust them to want the same things you do,” Ox said.

  Emmie forced her eyes to stay on his though she desperately wanted to look away. “Yeah.”

  “But what if you’re with someone who wants that A just as much as you do? What then?”

  Emmie frowned. “Did you want the A?”

  “No. I didn’t care about my grades. I usually tried to get in a group with someone like you who did want the A so they’d do the work for me.”

  Emmie narrowed her eyes. “I knew it.”

  “But I do want you. I want us. We’re grown-ups now; no one is grading us. And if we both want the same thing, then we can work together and you can trust me to do my part.”

  Emmie nodded just as Tayla pounded on the door.

  “Hey, you hussy, there are customers on both sides of the shop. Sexy times are over.”

  Ox said, “I told you stop calling me a hussy, Tayla.”

  “This time I was talking to Emmie. Get back to work.”

  Emmie looked at Ox. “You heard her—playtime is over.”

  “No,” he said, patting her bottom. “We just have to press pause.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Four weeks later…

  * * *

  Emmie had gone to sleep with Ox beside her only to wake to an empty bed. For the past three weeks, that had been the pattern. He’d spend most nights with her, but would go out to the ranch in the mornings, come back to get in his hours at the shop, then collapse in bed at night. Sometimes he didn’t even make it off the couch.

  The times they could spend together were nearly blissful. They weren’t fighting. They could talk about work, but they also talked about books and art they both liked. They teased each other about their taste in music, but most of the teases were laughing. One of Ox’s favorite pastimes was drawing on Emmie when she was naked. He usually kept it under her clothes, like the line of buttons he’d drawn up the inside of her thigh or the burst of flowers he’d drawn to frame her small breasts.

  They were planning a camping trip for the spring and talking about road-tripping so Ox could meet Emmie’s mom.

  They just didn’t know when they’d have the time.

  Tayla knocked on the door. “Em?”

  She rubbed her eyes and sat up. “Yeah?”

  “I have coffee.”

  “Come in.” Emmie yanked up the covers and sat up. “You’re a goddess of all things wonderful and caffeinated.”

  Tayla sat on the end of the bed and handed her a mug. “You’re welcome. Ox is gone again?”

  She nodded and drank.

  “He’s working crazy hours. Is his mom any better?”

  “I think so? She didn’t seem any different when we went out to dinner at the ranch last week, but his sister looks exhausted. They b
oth do.”

  Emmie hadn’t had much time to contemplate Ox’s family problems when the holiday season was in full swing. Thanksgiving had been the week before, and while Black Friday had been pretty quiet, the Metlin Downtown Business Association did a huge Small Business Saturday event that Emmie and Ox had taken part in. The bookshop had seen gobs of business that weekend, and Ox had even sold gift cards for blocks of tattoo work as gifts, an idea that Emmie had offered as a holiday promotion.

  Tattoos were a surprisingly popular Christmas present.

  Tayla asked, “How long is this going to last? The double-job thing.”

  “I think the problem is his mom can’t go back to her old schedule. They need another employee, and I don’t know if they’re not willing to hire someone or if they can’t afford it. Maybe neither. I don’t know. I don’t know his sister well enough to ask. It’s not really any of my business. Ox isn’t missing hours anymore. In fact, he’s been working more hours the past couple of weeks at the shop, not less.”

  “Which just makes him more tired.”

  Emmie nodded.

  Tayla tapped her chin. “I wonder if they need someone to help with the books for the ranch.”

  “Probably. I think Ox said that Melissa does all that.”

  “I’ll ask him.”

  Emmie stretched out her legs and smiled. “So you’re doing more of that stuff now.”

  “The bookkeeping?”

  Emmie nodded.

  “It keeps me busy.” Tayla swung her legs. “I don’t know. I know you’re all loved up with Ox, but I may ask to stay living here a little longer if that’s cool.”

  “Totally cool.” Inside, Emmie was dancing, but she had to play it casual.

  “Yeah.” Tayla sipped her coffee. “I’m kinda digging the fall colors and small-town vibe. Metlin has a Christmas parade. Who does that anymore?”

  “Small towns everywhere? But in Metlin, Santa drives a tractor, so we do have that claim to fame.”

  “And the kid and dog costume float was just… ridiculous.”

  “Ridiculously adorable, you mean?”

  “Did you see the little boy dressed as the Grinch who had the wiener dog with the antlers?”