My body was leaning into his touch, where his hands were still on my stomach and side. Looking up at him, I saw a glimmer of shock in his eyes as he snatched his hands away.
“Sorry,” he said gently. “I’m so used to having my hands all over people, you know how it is.”
“Well, I don’t, but I could imagine.”
He chuckled, such a deep rumbling noise as he led me over to the couch. I saw that the receptionist was giving Grant a strange look, but he was ignoring her completely.
“You said that you’re coming in tomorrow with your friend? Do you know what she’s getting done?”
“Her appointment is with you, actually,” I said. “She’s getting the colors on a butterfly changed from pink to purple.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “That’s right, she sent me a photo. I remember doing that one, I think. She wanted a super light baby pink, but the undertone of her skin has a bit more yellow then she realized. I told her she’d be better off leaving that section without filling it in completely, with just a bit of pink shadow, but she wouldn’t listen.” He shrugged.
“That must be hard for you,” I said, feeling my head tip to the side as I thought about it. “You’re creating your art, your illustrations, but you also have to do precisely what the client wants. Even if you know better, and even if you’d rather do something else completely.”
His dazzling smile made me lean toward him more. This odd pull to him was completely bizarre.
“It’s interesting that you think of that. Some artists feel that way, to be honest. But I never have. I think tattoos are a personal statement, and although it’s often helpful if you listen to your artist and take their advice into consideration, the body wearing the art has the final say in the art.” He shrugged. “Just my opinion of course.”
His eyes dropped from mine to stare at my lips for a moment, before flicking up again. “Unless of course that body isn’t ready for any artwork at all.” Grant grinned. “But I hope you’ll come back tomorrow anyway.”
I nodded. “Alison is really… Let’s say pushy. I know she means well, and she’s a good friend, but she can have very strong opinions that she tries to shove on to me.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, patting my knee for just a second. “If she tries to talk you into getting a flaming skull inked across your forehead, I’ll try to stop her.”
I’ve never laughed this much with a stranger before. It was like being in an alternate universe where I was able to speak and enjoy him flirting with me. Or at least, being open.
“Grant, your three o’clock is here,” the receptionist said, waving to a young man who had apparently walked into the shop without either of us noticing.
Grant held out his hand to me again. “Leah, if something happens and you don’t come in tomorrow, please tell me you’ll come back anyway sometime so that we can talk about art.”
I nodded, then left in a hurry as he went to greet his client. As I walked home, I realized a couple of extremely important things. I finally admitted that Alison was pushy, and I needed to calm her down sometimes. I was not ready to get a tattoo. I did want to learn a lot more about it, mostly so that I had an excuse to talk to Grant some more. It was rare that I had a chance to discuss art with anyone.
Wow. Grant. My mind swirled in a bizarre vortex of curiosity and desire. I’d never felt so exhilarated around a man before.
It was incredible.
CHAPTER THREE
* Grant *
I couldn’t stop thinking about that sweet dark-haired girl who was not only too shy to tell her friend to back off, but so sweet and open that
she’d discuss tattoo art with a strange man for a while.
I desperately tried to think of something that we might have in common so that I could make some excuse to see her again, past her friend’s tattoo appointment this afternoon. But she hadn’t said anything at all about herself other than the fact that she was an accountant.
That posed a bit of a problem, to be honest. If she was conservative and straitlaced, and didn’t want to be seen with a tattooed man who looked a lot closer to a robber than a banker, things might not work out between us.
But I wanted them to. I’d never felt such a magnetic pull toward another person in my life.
Perhaps I could invite her to an art show. I shook my head in frustration, almost laughing to myself as I opened the shop.
We had only been in this location for two years now, but my partner Jeremy and I were doing pretty well. We had brought the very best staff with us from other places where we used to work, and we had enough artists with a diverse array of styles.
It was important for us to foster a sense of community in our shop. If someone wanted perfect script lettering, I probably wouldn’t take the job myself, I would ask them to make an appointment with Lenore. And if Robbie, our stonework and heavy metal expert ended up chatting to a client who wanted birds, butterflies, or flowers, he’d send them to me.
Instead of being greedy and territorial, the entire team made sure that every single client ended up with the best possible art.