JAMESON: Brothers Ink Tattoo (Brothers Ink Tattoo Series Book 1)

by Nicole James

She slowly pulled the plastic spoon out of her mouth and set the yogurt container down. “Excuse me?”

  “The invoice files! Do I have to repeat everything to you?”

  She stood, her chair scraping against the linoleum as she stomped to the trashcan and threw the remnants of her dinner away. Then she made to move past him. “If you want an invoice, I’ll get it for you. All you have to do is ask. Nicely.”

  He grabbed her upper arm, halting her. Then his eyes cut to his brothers. “Boys, get out!” Those flashing blue eyes moved back to her. “You, stay!” Chairs scraped across linoleum as the men left them alone. Jameson batted the door with his palm, slamming it shut behind them. Then his attention turned back to her. “I wouldn’t need you to get me the damn invoice if you hadn’t messed the files all up, so don’t act like you’re doing me a huge favor.”

  She tried to pull her arm free, but his grip just tightened. “I merely alphabetized them. I wouldn’t think that was so hard to figure out, since it’s standard procedure in any office in the country.”

  “This isn’t an office. It’s a damn tattoo shop. And I’ll keep the files how I want them. Supply vendors up front and utilities and the rest of the crap in the back.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Think I already told you about rule number one. Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

  “Then get your hands off me.” She pulled again, but still he wouldn’t let go.

  “You don’t want to be here any more than I want you here, so let’s get one thing straight. This is temporary. I don’t need you changing things around while you’re here. Got it?”

  She jerked her arm free. “Got it.”

  “Get me the last three months invoices from our insurance provider,” he said to her retreating back.

  She paused in the doorway. “Health or liability?”

  “Liability,” he snapped, like it was a stupid question.

  She spun on her heels and stalked out.

  “Bring them to my office,” he yelled after her.

  ***

  Fifteen minutes later she stomped up the stairs with the invoices he’d requested.

  “Took you long enough.”

  “I had a customer to ring up. It took a while to count out his change,” she replied snidely letting him know just what she thought of his cash only system.

  “Anything else you want to run your mouth about while you’re up here?”

  “Will that be all?” she bit out.

  “No. Sit down.” He lifted his chin to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

  She plopped down in one.

  “What’s with the attitude?”

  “My attitude? You’re the one with the attitude!”

  Jameson glared at her, and then began perusing the invoices, making her sit there waiting while he did so. She began tapping her foot on the hardwood floor.

  His eyes snapped up to her. “Quit.”

  She huffed out a breath, and only when she stopped the tapping did his gaze return to the invoices. He kept her waiting for five long minutes.

  Really? How long does it take to scan half a dozen pages?

  When he finally tossed them on the desk and deigned to turn his attention back to her, she’d reached her boiling point.

  “I think you and I need to have a little chat,” he said.

  Oh my God. Now what?

  “Sit there while I make a quick phone call, first.” Without waiting for a response, he reached for the phone on his desk and punched in a number. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes on her. Someone picked up on the other end and he began speaking.

  “Get me Joe Carson, please.” He waited a moment. “Joe, this is Jameson O’Rourke.” There was a pause. “Still waiting on those corrected invoices. I understand it was a computer error, but it’s been three months and they’re still coming in wrong.” There was another pause. “I’ve got a short patience for dumbasses and fuckups, and I’m intolerant of slackers. So, which ones you got working for you?” There was another pause. “See that you do.”

  She watched as he hung up the phone, then his attention returned to her.

  “I get you don’t want to be here, Ava, any more than I want you here—”

  “Then let me find you someone else.” She cut him off.

  “You want to let me finish my goddamn sentence?”

  She folded her arms, clamping her mouth shut.

  “Jesus Christ, Ava. You’re the most uptight woman I’ve ever met.”

  Her mouth fell open. “I am not!”

  “Everything sets you off.”

  “Me? Everything sets you off.”

  “Look at your posture. All defensive.”

  “Maybe because I feel like you’re always attacking me!”

  “You need to grow a thicker skin. When I mouth off, you need to let it roll off your back. I wanted the files. You got them. End of story. You don’t need to huff and stomp around all night.”

  “Fine.”

  He grinned. “Right.”

  “Was that all?”

  His chair creaked as he leaned back, studying her. “No.”

  Her brow arched. “Something else I can do for you, Mr. O’Rourke.”

  “Jameson. Think I already set you straight on that at least three times.”

  “Fine. Jameson.”

  “I have to cut out early tonight, and Rory’s leaving at 8:00.”

  “All right.” She still wasn’t sure why he was telling her this.

  “It’ll just be you, Max, and Liam closing. I know I usually let you go with the last customer, but the guys are staying late to do an inventory supply order, and I wondered if you could stay late and clean up the break room and sweep the shop.”

  She knew those were jobs that the men usually did, and she was leery of staying late because of her encounter with that scary biker the other night. She bit her lip.

  At her hesitation, his eyes narrowed on her. “You got a problem with that?”

  The last thing she wanted to do was tell him about her silly fears. She didn’t want to give him another excuse to think she was being difficult. So, instead of mentioning it, she replied, “Of course not. Whatever you need.”

  “Means you may not get out of here till late.”

  “I’ll manage.”

  “Great.” He stroked his beard.

  “Is that all?”

  “That’s all, Ms. Hightower.”

  She wanted to correct him, but she’d be damned if she’d sit here and watch the smirk on his face. She stood and headed toward the stairs, but stopped short, turning back. “Let me know when you’re through with the invoices, and I’ll re-file them.”

  She caught his eyes on her ass. They flicked up to hers quick enough, but she’d seen. Evidently the man wasn’t as immune to the tight skirts she wore as he pretended to be.

  An idea formed in her head. Tomorrow she’d wear jeans, just to see if he noticed.

  Chapter Ten

  Ava came in about quarter to 11:00 the next morning. The front door was unlocked, but the closed sign was still flipped. She set her purse on her chair and glanced around. The lights were on, but the place looked deserted.

  “Max? Liam?” Getting no response, she wandered toward the rear of the shop and peered in the break room. It was empty as well.

  She jogged up the open staircase to the second floor loft that Jameson used for his office, calling his name as she climbed the steps. “Jameson, you up here?”

  Getting no answer and finding it empty, she turned and headed downstairs. Where could they all be? Going down the back hall, she peered in the clean room where they sterilized equipment and then the storage room where they kept supplies. Nada.

  She opened the door to the piercing room, thinking one of them might be in there restocking. It was empty.

  Finally, she opened the door to the private room they used for tattooing intimate areas of the body. Not really expecting to find a customer inside s
ince it was before hours, she didn’t bother to knock. Peering in, she saw Jameson bent over a female body, his tattoo machine in hand, the needle applying ink to the side of a woman’s bare breast. She was turned away, but her back was bared, and it was obvious she was topless on the table she reclined on.

  His head swiveled at the sound of the door opening, and the woman gasped, jolting to cover herself. Jameson had just enough time to pull the needle from her skin as she scrambled to cross her arms over herself, crying, “Oh my God.”

  Jameson moved in front of her, shielding her from Ava’s sight and snapped, “Get out!”

  Ava was so shocked, not only by the customer inside, but also by the fact that the woman had been topless and Jameson had been inking her breast. Ava dashed back up to her desk.

  Liam was just coming in, pulling the strap of his messenger bag over his head and setting it on the floor at his station. He kept large sketchpads inside, filled with art that came to him at all hours. He frowned when he saw the expression on her face. “You okay, Ava?”

  She shook her head. “Oh, my God. I just walked in on Jameson and a customer. He’s back there tattooing some chick’s boob. Talk about mortified. I had no idea anyone was in the shop. We’re not even open yet.”

  Liam’s eyes slid past her toward the private room and his expression changed. “Fuck, I forgot about the appointment Jamie set up. I should have warned you.”

  Ava frowned. “What do you mean?

  “I was here when he had the initial consultation with her. The woman is a breast cancer survivor. She went through reconstruction, but wanted to see about getting some ink to cover the scars on the sides of her breasts.”

  Ava felt like crawling under the desk. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe I walked in on them. She was probably so embarrassed. I mean, I didn’t see anything, but now I see why she was so freaked out when I peeked inside.”

  She put her face in her hands.

  “You didn’t mean to do it. I should have warned you. Hell, Jameson should have warned you.”

  “He’s told me never to walk in the private rooms without knocking. The look on his face… He wanted to kill me.”

  “Hey, doll, we all make mistakes. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Just apologize to the lady when she comes out.”

  “Maybe I should make myself scarce, so she doesn’t have to look at me.”

  “Don’t blow it out of proportion.”

  “You didn’t see the look on Jameson’s face.”

  ***

  An hour later, with the shop now open and customers in Max, Liam, and Rory’s chairs, Jameson walked his customer to the front. She put her purse on the counter, but wouldn’t look at Ava as she dug for her wallet.

  “I’m so sorry about earlier, ma’am. I didn’t realize there were any customers in the shop.”

  The woman just waved her away, but still wouldn’t look at her and had a cold expression on her face. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Ava watched as she dug out a stack of bills and dropped them on the counter. “I don’t need the change.”

  Jameson walked her to the door.

  Ava watched their exchange as he laid his hand on her shoulder, and leaned in to speak to her in a hushed tone. She nodded, a small smile pulling at her mouth, and then left with her head down.

  Jameson shut the door and turned, his eyes drilling into Ava’s. “Don’t ever make that mistake again.”

  She tried to explain. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry, I—”

  He stalked away with no regard for her apology.

  ***

  Jameson stayed up in his office for a few hours before leaving that afternoon, still in a mood. Ava’s eyes followed him as he walked over to tell Liam he was cutting out. She noticed Liam’s eyes drop past Jamie to connect with hers as he told him, “No problem. We’ve got it covered.”

  Jameson didn’t turn to look at her.

  After he walked away, she felt her eyes sting with tears. Knowing she’d messed up so badly was tearing her apart. She turned quickly away, but Liam saw.

  A few minutes later, after they heard Jameson’s bike roar off, she looked up to find Liam leaning his forearms on the upper counter of her reception desk.

  “You okay, doll?”

  She tried to smile. “I’m fine.”

  Liam turned his head, his eyes gazing out the front window. Then he pushed off the counter, rapped on it twice with his knuckles, and walked away.

  She busied herself with checking inventory and placing orders for things they were low on. The whole time, her mind was going over and over just how big she’d screwed up and how awful that woman must have felt. Worst of all, it had reflected poorly on Jameson. He had a reputation, and she’d quite possibly, albeit unwittingly, damaged it. Word of mouth and bad reviews could irreparably damage a business, no matter how big a name you had.

  She bit her lip. Somehow she had to make this right, but how? The only thing she could think to do was try to apologize again to Jameson, and perhaps send the woman a heartfelt apology note as well.

  The time rolled around when they all took turns taking dinner breaks, and Ava wandered over to Liam’s station. He was just cleaning up from his last customer.

  “Are you going to be taking a dinner break now?” she asked quietly.

  “I was thinking about it. You want to join me, sweets?” He glanced toward the reception waiting area. There were no customers waiting and none scheduled for him for the next hour and a half.

  “Actually, I was wondering if you knew if Jameson was home. I’d like to go speak to him, try to apologize again.”

  “I see.” He studied her. “Yeah, he said he was going home.”

  “Could you tell me how to get out there? I know it’s southeast of town somewhere.”

  “I can do better than that. I can take you there myself. That is if you’re up for a ride. I’ve got my bike outside.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “You bet.”

  She glanced over her shoulder to where Max was putting a stencil to a man’s arm. “It’d be okay? We’d be back soon?”

  Max, who must have heard the entire conversation, looked up. “I got it covered, babe. I’m a multi-tasker.”

  “See, problem solved.” Liam grinned down at her.

  “All right. If you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.”

  “I’ve never ridden before,” she warned.

  He waggled his brows. “So I get to pop your cherry?”

  She turned five shades of red. “Oh, my God. Shut up.”

  He chuckled and led her out to his bike.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, they were rolling down a dirt and gravel driveway to an old farmhouse set back from the road. There was a large three-car garage behind the house. The big doors were open, and they could see the shadowed silhouette of Jameson inside working on an old vintage red car. He turned when he heard them roll up.

  Ava climbed from the bike as Liam shut it off and dropped the kickstand.

  He paused, his eyes moving from her to the garage. Then he lifted his chin toward it. “He’s working on his ’63 Mercury Comet, his prized possession. He works on it whenever he’s pissed off about something. It calms him down. Go on. I’m heading inside to make a sandwich.” He paused to wink at her. “He runs you off, come inside and I’ll make you one.”

  She nodded.

  Liam moved toward the house, and her eyes shifted to the garage. She stood rooted to the spot, unsure how Jameson would receive her. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage and headed toward him.

  As she came into the dim garage, it took her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. When they did, she realized he was shirtless. Her eyes slid over him; he was covered in colorful ink. Covered. Normally, she would have found it unattractive, but on him, it worked. Holy hell, did it work. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. That is, until he barked at her.

  “What are you doing here?”<
br />
  “I—”

  “Shouldn’t you be at the shop?”

  “It’s my dinner break.”

  “And you’re here why?”

  “Liam brought me out.”

  “I saw who brought you out. What I want to know is why?”

  He was being a bear. She’d half expected this. Lifting her chin, she mustered the courage to swallow her pride and say what she’d come to tell him. “This morning, when I walked in on you… I’m sorry. I had no idea we had customers in the shop. The door had been unlocked, the lights were on, but I couldn’t find anyone.”

  “So you barged into a private room.”

  “I’m not trying to make excuses. I’m so sorry. I never would want to embarrass a customer, especially—”

  “Especially, what?

  “Liam told me about the appointment. I mean, afterward. Not before.”

  Jameson picked up a pack of cigarettes and shook one out, then dug in his hip pocket, coming up with a lighter. Flicking it on, the flame arced high, illuminating his face as he dipped his head, drawing on his cigarette until it flared to life. His eyes pierced into hers like blue lasers the entire time.

  “That’s bad for you, you know,” she murmured.

  He blew a plume of smoke out with a glare, and she could feel the anger radiating off him from across the six feet that separated them.

  “That it?”

  She could see he wasn’t going to make this easy. She felt bad, but he was not being very receptive of her apology. “I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. And I’ll send the woman a note telling her the same.”

  He sucked another deep drag off his cigarette, his eyes drilling into hers. “Save it. She wouldn’t be happy to have you track her down. She wanted privacy. Anonymity. Not half the shop knowing she was there or the reason why. That hard for you to understand?”

  “No, of course not. I—”

  “Just wanted to apologize. Right. Well, you’ve done that. Now go.” He lifted his chin toward the house.

  She dropped her head and stepped back, then walked to the house. She couldn’t make him accept her apology; she could only offer it.

  ***

  Jameson watched her go. He’d treated her like shit, he knew that, and part of that was a defense mechanism. When her eyes had dropped to his chest, and her pupils had dilated—her eyes wide as she’d gazed at him, her lips parting as she’d inhaled sharply—he couldn’t deny it had affected him. The sound had made his dick hard, pressing against the zipper of his jeans, and all he could think about was sliding his hands underneath that curvy ass of hers, placing her smack dab on the hood of the car, and fucking her right there and then. He’d noticed the jeans she wore today, faded denim that hugged her body from hip to knee. They looked good on her. Damn good.