INKED 8: A Tattoo Shop Reverse Harem

Kyla’s talking loudly, and I don’t want to interrupt.

“You are terrible,” she says to whoever is on the other end of the call. “They’re all strictly off-limits. This is a work arrangement, not a hook-up.”

There’s a pause, and then she adds. “I’m pretty sure they’ll all be dating. I mean, the women of this town would have to be blind to have passed over the gods of Ink Factor.”

“Gods?” Noah says. “We’ve been called many things over the years, but gods isn’t one of them.”

Kyla swivels her head so fast it must have jarred, finding Noah grinning wickedly at her, surrounded by his carbon copies and me. Her eyes widen, flicking back and forth as though she’s worried if she’s drunk so much, she’s hallucinating. I guess identical triplets aren’t the most common phenomenon. I forget that, having grown up with the Johnson brothers.

“I’ve got to go,” she whispers into the phone, lowering it before the person on the other end would have a chance to respond.

She blinks slowly again as though she’s attempting to clear her vision, but we’re all still there when her eyes open. She must notice the differences between Noah and his brothers. Niall has tattoo sleeves, slashes through his eyebrows, and an eyebrow piercing, and Nash has tattoos peeking over the collar of his shirt and two sparkling diamond earrings.

Definitely triplets.

“Guys, this is Kyla. These two lesser versions of me are Niall and Nash,” Noah says.

“Hi,” she mumbles as they flash her with their matching smiles. Gods. Did she really just say that about us?

I shouldn’t like the thought as much as I do. People worship gods. I’d love this girl to worship at my feet. I’d treat her strictly and reward her devotion.

“Another drink, Kyla,” Noah asks, his honey eyes gleaming with mischief.

“I think I’m going to need one,” she says, knocking back the last gulp of sweet alcohol in her drink. She’s looking for some liquid confidence.

Noah nods toward the bar, a clear indication for his brothers to fetch the drink, and they leave without any objection as Noah slides into the booth opposite Kyla. I take a seat too, resting my arms on the cool table top.

“So, you got the job,” Noah says. “All that pep-talking outside definitely did the trick.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I make a note to ask him later.

“I think it was more the sheer desperation of your boss,” she laughs, glancing at me out of the corner of her eyes.

“Carl doesn’t do anything unless he’s absolutely certain,” Noah says. “He’s a man of clear purpose.”

“I am,” I agree.

Nodding, Noah glances to where the rest of the team are gathered at the bar. “You’ll learn that he likes things to be done a certain way.”

“Well, I’ll try to follow his orders,” Kyla says, blushing in my direction.

Noah grins a little wider than fits with the conversation.

She flops back against the soft red booth. “So, how long have you been working together?”

“We’re all neighborhood friends,” I say. Beneath the table, my ankle brushes Kyla’s, and I feel the sensation in totally unrelated places. “We grew up together and decided to start a business.”

“Wow, that’s awesome.”

“It has its moments.”

I glance back to the bar, finding a wall of men walking toward us, bearing drinks. Nash is first to reach the table and tells Noah to make room. We all slide further into the booth giving the rest of the Ink Factor team space to sit down. Kyla steals furtive glances at her future workmates.

“Everyone, this is Kyla. She’s joining Ink Factor, and she’s going to drag our disorganized asses into a new era of professionalism.” I nod with purpose, as though by the very act of speaking, I can manifest my will.

“She’s gonna need some super-strength,” Kole says. Kyla’s eyes drift over his tight black tight curls and cloud-gray eyes. He has a slightly crooked nose that was broken in a fight, and a faint scar that runs up his right cheek. She’d be right in thinking that he’s the brawler of the group. There’s always one who has a short fuse. When he rubs the side of his nose, his knuckles are latticed with thin white scars.

“She’s going to get our help,” I insist.

“Of course,” Noah says. Kyla jumps as though Noah touched her beneath the table. Is he seriously already manhandling the new recruit? Maybe hiring a woman is a mistake, but there’s no going back now.

“Right, let’s do introductions.” I nod to Dex, who’s sitting next to me.

“I’m Dex, and this is Lex.” He tips his head in his brother’s direction, and they both grin. Unlike Noah and his brothers, Dex and Lex are so identical it’s hard for even me to tell them apart.

“Show her your hands,” Carl says.

They each hold up their right hand, revealing a difference that will help her in telling who is who. Dex has a large intricate D tattooed across the soft skin on the top of his hand, and Lex has a matching L.