Dahlia

by Tabitha Barret

  Daire had jumped right in and tried to control the situation. He had even stayed with me after it was over to make sure I was okay. I definitely felt guilty for throwing my beer at him now.

  I decided to cut him some slack and not just because of his cute dimples. He had proven to be reliable in a crisis and had acted with compassion even though I was a stranger.

  I was the one who had almost lost control and kissed him. Why had I done that?

  Closing my eyes, I remembered the crazy sexual energy that had flooded my body when he’d said, “come back to me.” At that moment, I wanted to be his. It was insane, but I couldn’t tell my thighs to stop craving the sensation of feeling his hips between them. I really wondered if I would have jumped him right there in the studio if he hadn’t reminded me about the no touching problem.

  His eyes had said “yes” even if his arm had blocked my attempt to touch his handsome face.

  I let out a breath and licked my lips. I should have been afraid to touch Daire again and in case I saw his horrible father and those shadow creatures, yet my body seemed more than willing to repeat the experience just to be close to him.

  A knock at the door pulled my attention to Milo.

  “Hey Boss, rough night?” He motioned to the dark ceiling light above me.

  Thankfully, I had kept the lights off; otherwise, Milo would have seen the blush across my entire body and my rock hard nipples.

  “More like rough morning. Sorry, I didn’t come out to say hi. Is Gray here yet?” It was a silly question because Milo always got a ride in with his older sister, but I needed to distract myself from calling Daire and requesting another meeting.

  “Yeah, Queen Bitch hasn’t had enough coffee yet. I would stay away from her until at least noon. Her latest conquest broke up with her last night. She says she’s fine, but I know she’s pissed. I don’t know what she sees in those assholes. She needs to find a nice biker guy with a good heart instead of these weird corporate types who think she’s easy because she comes off as edgy. I told her to dye her hair back to blonde instead of gray. Maybe men will start seeing her as a person instead of an object.” He crossed his thick, muscled arms and leaned against the doorjamb.

  I smiled at his insightfulness. “I warned her about the 9 to 5ers with their pressed suits and expensive watches. They see her and think, she’s wilder than my wife is. You’re right. She needs someone who will appreciate her.”

  “Yeah. Maybe she’ll listen to you, Boss.” He winked at me and leaned around the door to look at someone down the hall. “My 10:00 AM is here. Man, she is fine. I don’t mind working on the cute ones. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have an ounce of fat on her, so the back tattoo she wants will be rough. Can you grab the tissues, just in case? You’re better with the criers.”

  I thought about all the people who insisted on tattoos in boney areas and cringed. “Good luck. Just remember, no sleeping with the clients. Flirt, but don’t ask them out.” That’s all I needed. I wasn’t running a massage parlor or a dating café.

  A sexy smirk spread across his chiseled cheeks. “Please, you’ve seen Kit. I may look like a fuckboi in my tight jeans and tight T-shirts, but I’m not about to have a one-night stand and ruin things with a woman who makes me homemade lasagna and gives me spine cracking blow jobs. I’m not stupid.” He waggled his eyebrows at me. “Speaking of which, are these jeans tight enough? I need some good tips this week. I need to get something special for Kit’s birthday.”

  Milo shoved his jean-clad ass at me and wiggled around.

  I burst out laughing at his little butt wiggle dance. “If they were any tighter, I would be able to see your crack. Now, get out there and work it, just don’t screw up the tattoo.”

  He flexed his rock-solid arms and chest in his tight black T-shirt, making the Lady Blue Tattoo ripple as if it was blowing in a breeze. “It’s a fucking butterfly. How can I screw that up?” He laughed as he brushed a gray dog hair off his dark shirt and headed towards the front room, but stopped as if he had run into someone.

  Shit! I hadn’t told anyone about Aiden.

  I rushed around my desk and found Milo standing toe to toe with Aiden in the hallway.

  What was it with men reacting to Aiden as if he was the anti-Christ?

  I stepped between the tall men and pushed them apart, careful not to touch their skin. “Milo, this is Aiden. He’s the new cleaner. Aiden, this is Milo Greer, one of my tattoo artists.”

  Aiden immediately backed down and looked away as if I might punish him. “Hello, Milo.”

  Milo looked at me with his eyebrows raised as if I was crazy. “I thought you gave up on hiring a mop boy?” He refused to relax his puffed-up, testosterone-laced stance.

  Though I certainly didn’t answer to Milo, he did deserve some kind of answer if I expected them to work closely together.

  “Aiden needed a job and I needed someone to clean the bathrooms, unless you’re volunteering for the job.” I glared at him, waiting for him to flinch. He was one of those guys who smelled like mouthwatering cologne and gelled his hair perfectly, but I knew from Gray that he was an absolute slob at home. He was in his early twenties, but he still hadn’t realized that his mother wouldn’t clean his room for the rest of his life.

  Milo slowly let out a breath as his eyes met mine. “No. I’m good with tattooing.” He glanced at Aiden from the corner of his eye. “Nice to meet you, Aiden.”

  Brushing past Aiden, Milo plastered a smile on his face and walked over to greet his client.

  I looked at Aiden. “What was that all about?”

  Aiden shrugged. “Sorry. I guess that was my fault. He looked like one of the guys who tormented me in high school. I guess I gave off the wrong vibe.”

  Aiden wasn’t scrawny or nerdy, but I could see him being the loner kid in school who guys picked on.

  “Will it be a problem?” My question held an implied threat. If he couldn’t get along with Milo, Milo would be the one who kept his job, not Aiden.

  “No, Dahlia.” He cleared his throat and looked away.

  “Good.”

  I turned to walk back into my office, but Aiden stepped closer.

  “Dahlia, are you okay? I mean, did Mr. Foxworth do something to you earlier? I heard you screaming and crying. I may not know you well, but I would gladly tell him off for you.” His eyes were sincere as he looked at me. He even stood up a little taller as if he was imagining hitting Daire.

  I shook my head. “The more you get to know me, the more you’ll understand that strange things happen to me all the time. He didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry if you were upset. Here it is your first day on the job and your boss freaks out. It’s not how I wanted you to see me.”

  He tilted his head and frowned. “I see a beautiful woman who is doing her best to run her business and keep her employees safe by searching for a contractor to help her. What that contractor did to her is what I’m interested in.”

  I was surprised by his concern for me, a virtual stranger. A small part of me was excited by the thought of a guy standing up for me, especially after all of my disastrous breakup visions where I was blamed time and again. Was it wrong to want a guy to look after me instead of selfishly caring only about himself?

  Aiden was standing so close to me that the zipper of his sweatshirt was touching the edge of my T-shirt. He was at least 6 feet tall, but his head and shoulders were bent so he was close enough for me to kiss if I went up on my toes.

  Staring at his lower lip, I couldn’t stop from closing the gap a little more. “Really. I’m okay.” I looked into his eyes, which were focused on my lips. I had no idea why I felt so drawn to him, but I was tempted to break my own rule about not dating my employees.

  I swallowed and turned my head away at the last second to retreat from the almost kiss and walked into the supply closet. Pulling out an employee T-shirt and an employment application, I tossed them at him. “Here. Now, everyone will know that you work here.”

  I
ducked back into my office to cool off. It was only 10:15 AM and already I’d been put through the wringer. I was ready to take a personal day and eat some Häagen-Dazs in bed.

  “Boss, your 10:30 AM is early.” Gray’s voice called through the closed door.

  My visions of eating Triple Chocolate Chip disappeared and were replaced by the thought of tattooing yet another butterfly.

  I left my dark sanctuary and looked around to see a gentleman dressed in the sharpest, cleanest navy suit I had ever seen. It practically had money falling out of the pockets and seams. This was an expensive suit. Inside the suit was a man in his late 40’s who pressed his lips together and nodded to me. The gray around his temples complimented his short haircut and clean jaw.

  He stood and extended his hand to me. “Hello. I’m Ian Foster.”

  Refusing to take another ride on the nightmare express, I ignored his hand and motioned for him to follow me into room #1.

  Walking into my room, I wondered why he was really here. While I’d worked on plenty of corporate guys, they’d never come fully dressed for the occasion.

  He entered my spacious room and looked around at the colorful collages of my favorite drawings and tattoos.

  “So, Mr. Foster. The schedule said you are here for a tattoo, not a consult. I assume you already have your image or photo.” I fully expected him to tell me to tattoo his wife’s name or birthday on his ass, or maybe his kids’ names. I would even expect a tattoo of a hot rod or some other midlife crisis icon like Jessica Rabbit or an 80’s band logo.

  He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a rolled up piece of paper. “My daughter designed something for me.” He smiled and handed it to me. A blush spread across his cheeks. “I mean, I know your designs are impeccable and that you come highly recommended, but I wanted something that represented me.”

  “I’m not sure if Gray discussed custom pricing with you, but detailed tattoos are priced by the hour depending on the size, location, number of color changes and level of complexity.” It certainly wasn’t the first time a client had brought his own picture, but I was worried about the crayon drawing that I would have to turn into a work of art to appease him.

  “Yes, I understand. I explained the general design to your associate. She mentioned that it could take at least 5-6 hours, which is why I requested two appointments. Your associate said I would have to wait a few weeks to heal before we continued, though I’m a faster healer. I also followed the prep instructions and avoided drinking alcohol this morning.” He winked implying that day drinking wasn’t his thing.

  Thankfully, he didn’t seem phased by the fact that it might be expensive depending on what he expected. He was also a quick study who followed the rules, which was refreshing. I’d actually turned away clients who came in drunk.

  I carefully unrolled the paper and found a gorgeous full color photo of a phoenix with its wings extended. Below it were flames that looked real. When I looked closer, three of the flames spelled out the words: Spirit. Heart. Mind. It was very impressive and definitely evoked an emotional response.

  When I touched the paper, I realized that there was another sheet below it. I pulled out the second paper to find an outline of the entire drawing. I was relieved that his daughter had given me a tracer to start with.

  “Your daughter is very talented. If she knows how to hold a tattoo gun, I might just hire her.” I tried not to sound condescending, though sometimes my praise came off flat, or so I was told by some of my ex boyfriends.

  He smiled and tapped the paper. “She’s a graphics designer in Texas, but I will pass along your approval. She had many attempts at getting the design right, but I like this one the best.”

  “A phoenix represents rebirth. Any reason for choosing it?” I mentally ran through how I wanted to shade the flames as I prepared the thermal copier to make the transfer.

  He put his hands in his pockets and pretended to stare at one of the drawings on the wall. “You see, I’m recently divorced and trying to figure out who I really want to be, not who my ex-wife or her family wants me to be. My daughter added the wording because she wants to make sure that I remember to transform my total self, not just one aspect.”

  I was really starting to like his daughter. “You need to transform your spirit, your heart and your mind. I can appreciate that. She sounds really smart.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, very smart, though I believe it’s the fact that she does yoga and Pilates that gave her that kind of insight. She is constantly trying to get me to eat healthier and take vitamins.”

  Laughing, I glanced up at him. “Sounds like she tries to take care of you from a distance.”

  “Yes. She calls sometimes just to make sure that I had lunch, as if I’m going to forget to eat.” He seemed embarrassed that his daughter was mothering him, but I found it endearing.

  “I do the same to my father. After my mother passed, I had to make sure that he didn’t forget to eat.”

  He nodded his head. “I’m very sorry to hear about your mother.”

  I shrugged. “It was a long time ago.” I pulled the transfer paper out of the machine and turned to look him up and down. “So, where are we putting this marvelous phoenix?”

  “Ah, yes.” He looked down at his suit and tapped the middle of his chest. “I believe it should go across my chest. My daughter said that it was a chakra point for love and forgiveness. I believe a total transformation of one’s soul should start with the heart.” He bashfully looked up as if he had said something corny.

  “I couldn’t agree more, though that suit will be a little difficult to work around.” I chuckled to put him at ease. Once clothing started to come off and they were settled in the chair, clients tended to get more nervous as the reality of their permanent decision was about to commence.”

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to be so formal this morning. I did have jeans and a T-shirt picked out, but I had an unexpected morning meeting with my divorce attorney. I had to come straight here.” He tugged at his tie and looked around for a place to put his suit jacket.

  “It’s okay. I can put your tie and jacket in my office so they don’t get ruined.” I didn’t want such a nice suit getting near the ink or the floor that hadn’t been swept this morning.

  He handed me his tie and slid his jacket off his shoulders. Once he unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, I carefully took his clothes and darted into my office to lay them across my guest chair. When I came back, he was pulling off his undershirt.

  I fully expected dad bod, not that I was judging. I had men and women of all shapes and sizes come through the doors, so I looked at them objectively as I would a canvas, not as people who were too skinny or overweight. But what my eyes found under his shirt made my mouth drop. While he didn’t have a six-pack, he certainly was fit and toned, much to my delight.

  I immediately turned around to hide my blush. What the hell was wrong with me? First, I wanted to kiss Daire, then Aiden and now I was staring at a client’s firm chest. Was I ovulating? It would explain my overly emotional response to men today. Man, I needed to get laid before I did something stupid.

  Not wanting to think about my last breakup, I spared myself the trauma and pointed to the chair without turning around.

  Hearing him lay down, I focused on the ink colors I wanted to use and lined them up before choosing the needles.

  “Will this hurt, Miss Huston?” I’d heard the question a million times, but I’d never heard it asked so politely or apologetically as if he thought he would offend me.

  “Please call me, Dahlia. You’ve chosen a tough area; I won’t lie. Are you sure you don’t want this on your back? The spine is a painful area, but the wings and flames wouldn’t be bad.” I preferred to give it to them straight before I worked on painful areas; otherwise, the breaks needed for the client to be comfortable would eat into their time and make the tattoo more expensive.

  He looked down at his chest for a moment before looking into my eyes. “Nothing
could be as painful as finding out that your wife only married you for status and money while you married her for love. Or that she is willing to scorch the earth to pry every last penny from your pocket. I should have listened to my mother and married the socialite she liked. I would have been divorced in my younger years when it would have been easier to find real love.”

  I smiled at his quirky humor. The heart chakra was definitely the right place for his phoenix.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Having never been married or engaged, I can’t relate, but I did find a boyfriend having sex on my couch with my roommate in college the day after he broke up with me because he told me he was gay. Turns out, he was very straight. That was fun. Oh, and there was that time when I threw a guitar case out the window because my live-in boyfriend was stealing from me to buy drugs.” I normally didn’t discuss my love life with clients, but I felt like he needed to know that he wasn’t the only one with a terrible track record of failed relationships.

  He chuckled. “If only she had run off with my valet earlier in the marriage, it would have saved me a lot of heartache. I often believed that she cared more about him than me, but I thought I was just being jealous. She did finally leave me for a business rival, who now compares my business decisions to my failure at being a good husband.”

  “Ouch, this woman sounds like a real piece of work. Well, once you sign the divorce papers, I would lose her phone number and spread rumors that she has an STD because she screwed the UPS driver.” I rubbed down his smooth chest to clean the area before leaning over his chest to position the transfer.

  A huge smile spread across his face. “I could do that, if only I hadn’t promised myself not to stoop to her level. Oh, to see Jonathan’s face if I spread that rumor.”

  Happy that I made him smile for a second, I leaned back to check the positioning of the design. “If that looks good to you, I’ll mark the outline.”

  I held a mirror up for him to see his life-changing tattoo.

  “Perfect.” He settled into the chair and prepared himself for what came next.