A Co-Worker's Crush

by Piper Rayne

  He nods. “I know, but there will be another time. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Sandy stands. “No, there won’t.”

  “Yeah, there will. They’re talking about doing something again in six months.” Jax doesn’t even realize what Sandy’s saying.

  She holds out her hand to me.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Give them to me.”

  I shake my head. “Sandy—”

  She passes through the half door and marches over to my station. “No. You’ve sacrificed enough. I’m done sitting back. He’s my son, I’ll deal with him.” She opens up my large purse and grabs the manila envelope.

  “Sandy, it’s fine. We’ll get it handled eventually. My lawyer said that this is just a longer road.”

  “And what? We wait until he bankrupts you? No.” She points at Jax. “Book her a ticket. She’s on that plane.”

  He smiles and nods.

  “I’ll be back,” she says.

  “Sandy,” I say, rushing over to her.

  But she doesn’t stop as she walks out of Ink Envy and right to her car, pulling away before I get the papers back.

  Jax meets me at the door, his arms around my waist pulling me back to him. “I’ll book a room with a Jacuzzi?”

  I lightly elbow him in the stomach. “Cheesy.”

  “Such a dirty mind. I was simply thinking you’d be sore.”

  “Sore from what?”

  “Putting your killer art all over people’s bodies. Dirty girl,” he whispers and kisses my neck.

  We turn to head to our stations, and Lyle looks between us, waving his finger. “Are you two?”

  “Yeah,” Jax says and looks at me as though I’d have a problem with him declaring our relationship.

  He couldn’t be more wrong.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jax

  * * *

  Frankie’s still a mess as we board the airplane.

  “Jolie’s fine,” I repeat for the hundredth time.

  Sandy worked some sort of crazy magic. It took her a week, but she got Michael to sign the papers. He did make Holder write an amendment that stated that if he went to rehab and got clean, that the rights would be revisited. But Sandy also gave him money. She didn’t say how much, but enough for him to leave town for some opportunity with a buddy.

  I feel bad for Jolie. Although she knows none of it, one day she’ll understand that her dad put using ahead of her.

  “I’ve never left her, Jax,” Frankie says, sliding into her seat.

  She hasn’t even noticed we’re in first class. So far, this quick trip I thought would let me earn my membership in the mile high club isn’t starting out how I planned.

  “I know, but she’s with Sandy, Dylan, and Rian. Everyone will watch her. They love her like she’s their own.”

  She nods, and I flag down the flight attendant and ask for two shots.

  Frankie shakes her head. “I don’t think I’m drinking in front of you ever again.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” I hand her the glass the flight attendant poured the shot into.

  She downs it and hands it back to me. “That’s it though.”

  Pulling out her phone, she sends one last text to Rian, who has Jolie today. All I see are emojis as I lean over her shoulder to snoop. Rian responds immediately.

  Rian: Go have lots of loud sex with your boyfriend.

  “Smart girl,” I whisper.

  Frankie shakes her head, and the flight attendant comes over the speaker, asking us to put our phones on airplane mode.

  Frankie holds her phone, but I take her hand, leaning back in the chair. “We’re going to be back before you know it.”

  She says nothing but stares out the window.

  Our flight is uneventful—which means I did not earn membership into the mile high club. I’m crossing my fingers it’ll happen on the way back.

  We get our luggage and I call for an Uber to take us to the hotel. Frankie calls home as soon as we’re in the Uber, and Rian must hand the phone to Jolie because I hear her voice through the phone.

  “Hey, sweetie,” Frankie says, putting the call on speakerphone.

  “Hi, Mommy. Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “Uncle Dylan walked me into school and the teacher asked if I had two daddies.” She laughs as though she can’t believe the teacher would think that.

  “Oh, that’s funny.” Frankie gives me the side-eye for some reason.

  “Then Annabelle told her I didn’t have a daddy.”

  Seriously, can I kick a five-year-old’s ass?

  “Oh, baby,” Frankie says.

  “I told her that I’d rather only have a mommy than parents who fight like hers.”

  “Jolie!” Frankie scolds.

  I laugh, and even the Uber driver stifles a laugh.

  “That’s what Jax told me. He said I should be happy for what I have.”

  I bite my lips as Frankie’s head turns my way and she glares at me in a way I haven’t seen in the past few weeks. I hold up my hands.

  “Well, that wasn’t a nice thing to say either,” Frankie says.

  “I’m making Valentines with Rian,” Jolie carries on as if Frankie weren’t trying to impart some wisdom.

  I completely forgot Valentine’s Day is coming up. I’ve never had a girlfriend for Valentine’s Day. What will she expect? Jewelry? Roses? Hell, I have no idea.

  “That’s nice.”

  “We gotta go, Mommy. Love you!” The phone clicks off.

  Frankie shoves it inside her purse. “Nice, Jax.”

  “The kid is an asshole just like her parents. I’m not apologizing.”

  Sometimes the nicer kid has to give it back to the bully to get them to back off. Frankie should know that.

  We reach the hotel and I tip the Uber guy because he has a sense of humor. After we check-in, Frankie can’t stop checking out the place as we walk to the elevator.

  “Are you a first-timer?” I ask.

  She nods. “Yeah.”

  I’ve been here so much, it could be my second home. “Well then, first we fuck, then I take you on a tour?”

  “Really? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t know if you’d be up for it.”

  I hate how part of her is scared to ask me to do things. As though I’m going to refuse anything that makes her happy. Goes to show you how much damage Michael did to her.

  “What do you want to see?”

  We step in the elevator.

  “This is going to sound stupid, but I want to see the Hoover Dam.”

  “Really?” I laugh because I figured the Bellagio fountain show, Caesar’s Palace, the roller coasters at Stratosphere would be high on her list. But the dam? I shrug. “Okay.”

  We walk into the hotel room, and I drop our bags on the luggage rack then tackle her to the bed.

  “I feel dirty from flying,” she says.

  “You’ll be dirty once I’m done with you.” I attack her neck.

  She puts her hand on my chest and pushes me back. “Shower sex?”

  I bounce up onto my feet, offering her my hand. “You speak my language.”

  After turning on the water, I strip off her shirt and unclip her bra from the front. The weight of her breasts pulls the fabric, and I run my hands over her, nudging them free.

  “I love your tits.” I lean forward and kiss her.

  “Is it bad that I can’t wait to be loud?”

  I bite her bottom lip, pulling it out and letting it go with a pop. “Make the walls shake, baby.”

  I push her yoga pants down her body, along with her panties. I hold open the glass shower door and lead her inside, allowing her to enjoy the warmth of the water while I strip. Then I join her, corner her, and push one leg up. It didn’t take me long to figure out that one of the great things about having a girlfriend is the fact that I don’t have to wear a condom. We can do it when and wherever we want. I slide right into her and she’s soaked, as though she’s be
en waiting for this all day.

  I find out something new about Frankie in that shower—she’s pretty damn loud when she’s allowed to be.

  An hour after our shower sex, we’re in a rental car, driving toward Hoover Dam.

  Frankie’s almost giddy next to me, which is ten times better than she was on the plane, but weird at the same time.

  “Why the Hoover Dam?” I ask.

  She looks out the window. “I’m not saying.”

  “What? Why not?” Her vagueness only intrigues me more.

  “You’re going to make fun of me.”

  “I will not. I never even mention the puking in my lap thing.”

  She lightly smacks my chest. “You just did.”

  “Only to prove my point.”

  She situates herself so she’s more facing me than looking out the window. I put my hand on her knee. I swear I can’t stop touching her.

  Finally she says, “When I was younger, I loved that movie, Fools Rush In. She throws a coin for good luck when she crosses the state border. There.”

  I can’t fight the laughter pouring out of me. “Frankie Grant is a romantic?”

  She rolls her eyes, huffs, and straightens to look out the window.

  I grab her leg and shake it. “It’s okay. You’re a woman, of course you are.”

  She rolls her eyes again. “She threw the coin, then she met Matthew Perry’s character, went home with him, and she got pregnant.”

  I laugh harder. “So they got together because she was pregnant? Maybe not such a romantic then.”

  Her death glare returns. “No. They came from different worlds.”

  “Let me guess, one of them was poor?” See? Every damn movie.

  “No. I mean, he was rich, but she wasn’t poor.”

  “Was she rich?” I ask.

  “No. Ugh.” She clenches her fists. “It’s a good movie, and it used to make me think about how I didn’t have to stay in Wisconsin and marry someone from my own town. That I could find love somewhere else.”

  I shake her thigh again and she glares out the window. “Then I’m glad, because I was never going to venture to Wisconsin, that’s for sure.”

  “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with Wisconsin, okay?”

  “What do they have besides cows and cheese?”

  “That’s like saying all New York has is bagels and pizza,” she says.

  “And I’m proud to come from a place that mastered those two things. You should be proud to come from cheese.”

  She shakes her head. I love baiting her. It’s way too much fun.

  “I’m going to drag you there sometime.” She acts as if that’s a threat.

  Truthfully, I’m not a meet-the-parents type of guy, but it’s one of the good things about her having a strained relationship with her parents—I won’t have to meet them.

  “For some cheese and milk?”

  She playfully smacks me. If we weren’t on a highway, I’d kiss her right now.

  Our conversation turns to inking and how nervous she is about tomorrow. As much as I try to relax her, I understand her nerves. I almost threw up before my first pop-up event. Tattooing people on the fly when you didn’t work with them for weeks, perfecting exactly what they want, is nerve-wracking. But she’ll kill it, I know she will.

  We park at Hoover Dam. When Frankie finds out we have to park and walk across where Arizona and Nevada come together, not drive over, it’s like her dream was shot.

  “Come on, you can still throw a coin over,” I say and tug her toward the street.

  “It’s not like in the movie.”

  “Real life rarely is.”

  She shakes her head, and I pull her into my arms, kissing her briefly because there are families around.

  We reach the middle of the dam and I step over the line and say, “I’m in a different state than you.”

  She pushes me. It’s fun being silly with her. I slide a coin into her palm, and she smiles at me, holding it up.

  “Kiss it,” she says.

  I kiss the metal and she looks around before tossing it over the edge of the dam.

  “Good luck, huh?”

  “A little luck never hurt anyone,” she says.

  I wrap my arms around her middle, her head falls to my shoulder, and we stare over the edge. She’s right that a little luck never hurt anyone, but I have a hard time believing me kissing a coin and her tossing it into the water will bring us good luck. But I won’t tell her that. I won’t pop that bubble for her. God knows it hurt when people popped mine.

  I hold her close, my eyes closed, and inhale her scent—dreading the moment when I blow this all up. Things in my life are way too good right now. Surely something will happen. It always does.

  She turns her head and kisses my jaw. “Thank you for bringing me.”

  “Hey, the Hoover Dam is cool.”

  “No, Jax.” She swivels in my arms. “To Vegas. I know what you’re doing, and I appreciate you giving me a small taste of what it would’ve been like had I made different choices, but I want you to know, I’m happy in Cliffton Heights. I’m happy having Jolie, Ink Envy, and you.”

  She kisses me, and that feeling of dread weighs me down even more.

  Don’t put your faith and happiness on me, Frankie. That’s gotta be a mistake.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Frankie

  * * *

  The next morning, Jax wakes me by sliding down between my legs. Since we always sleep separately at home, it’s nice to be in his arms the entire night and not have to worry about Jolie walking in.

  I call home. Jolie’s with Sandy since Saturday is a busy day for Rian and Dylan, and she tells me they’re going ice skating.

  Then Jax takes me to a breakfast place he swears by, and I make him stop at the M&M store. Sometimes I worry I’m domesticating him sooner than he’s ready for. Like, if I didn’t have Jolie and we were a couple, we would’ve gambled last night and gone out to the clubs. But I’ve been done with that scene for a long time. Once you have to take care of a child the next day, the night before doesn’t seem quite as worth it.

  After breakfast, he walks me over to the expo place. Immediately, someone is calling his name. We both turn to find a big guy waving at us. He’s got a few other guys with him, and they all smile and wave as if they know Jax.

  “Owens!” The big guy smacks Jax’s hand in a handshake. “Damn, you just disappeared. I half thought you’d be MIA tonight.”

  “If I say I’ll be here, I will.” Jax’s reaction isn’t jovial in any way.

  “Well, I’m guessing this is Frankie Grant?” He puts his hand out to me, and I shake it.

  “Yes,” I say.

  Jax says, “Frankie, this is the owner, Logan, and that’s Timmy and Jimmy behind him. They’re the ones who put the whole thing together.”

  I shake all their hands.

  “Let me show you where you’ll be.” Logan waves us forward.

  I try to distinguish the tats on his head, but they look like a design of some kind. The guy’s probably had crazy talented artists do his ink if he owns this place. It’s a tattoo museum of sorts and is known for bringing in tattoo artists from all over the world every weekend.

  We come up to what’s more or less a glass booth that we’ll be in. It’s set on one end of the room and you can see in from all angles except the back. There’s a big banner with Jax’s name and mine, the exact same size as though we’re equals. The picture that Jax took of me and sent in is on there too. It’s weird seeing my face and name as if I’m some celebrity.

  “Usually we only have one artist, so we had to improvise.” Logan looks at me.

  Jax walks into the glass room, looking at the setup as though he’s making sure it meets his final approval.

  “We were surprised you were ready to bring in some competition,” Jimmy says.

  Timmy shoots him a “shut the fuck up” look. But either Jimmy doesn’t see it or doesn’t care because he looks at me.<
br />
  “Shut up, Jimmy,” Logan says.

  Jax doesn’t respond, so maybe he didn’t hear Jimmy. “What do you think, Frankie? Enough room?”

  They’ve divided the room with two chairs far enough apart to keep everything sanitary.

  “The only ones in the room are you and the client,” Logan says.

  “And if the client wants privacy?” I ask.

  Logan looks at Jax, not nearly as happy to answer me. “There’s one bench behind that curtain, but it’s all glass so people can watch you. And it’s not only people who have booked. There are other tattoo artists who like to check out your skills.” Logan sets his eyes on me. “You ready for that?”

  Jax puts his arm around me as though he’s staking some claim. “She’s more than ready—and talented.”

  “Oh!” Jimmy points at us. “You’re fucking her. That’s why she’s here.”

  “Shut up, Jimmy,” Logan warns.

  Again, Jax has no reaction. I thought for sure he’d be ready to beat the shit out of the guy.

  “I brought her because she’s good and people will love her work.” He slides his arm around my back and takes my hand. “We’re going to look around. We’ll bring our stuff tonight. What time do you want us?”

  “You’ve got a long list of people. We booked your first clients at seven.”

  Jax nods. “Cool. We’ll be here. Thanks, guys.”

  “Thank you,” I say quickly before Jax drags me away. I look over my shoulder to see the three of them staring at us as we walk away. “We could’ve had lunch or something with your friends.”

  “They aren’t my friends. They just want the money I’m about to bring in tonight.” He looks at me. “The money we’re going to bring in.”

  I have to walk fast to keep up with him. “I don’t think they like that I came with you.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t give a shit what they like. Just wait until they see your work. They’ll be begging to book you over me.”

  I shake my head—he’s wrong on that one.

  We tour the building, walking through rooms that talk about the origins of tattooing. There’s even a display with pictures of full arm sleeves and you have to guess who they belong to. Weirdly, Jax is on there. I think because no one in Cliffton Heights knows him that well, I forget that it’s not that way everywhere. He’s made a name for himself in this world—and that’s when I realize that maybe I haven’t fully prepared myself for what’s going to happen tonight. What if his line is super long and my line has no one? I love watching Jax ink, but not when I’m supposed to be working too.