323 Tender Way

"I'm sorry I monopolized your whole day off. I’d kill me if I were you, figuratively, of course."

He smiled wide and genuine.

"It's okay. I had a light day, two clients, but they’re regulars and not going anywhere."

"What do you do," I asked. I was lifting chairs and put them over the tables. Duke fell right in and started doing the same.

"Human art," he said.

"Pardon?" I was right. The man was a serial killer and I’d welcomed him in. It was curtains for me. Literal curtains, or maybe he did lamp shades.

"Tattoos. Ink.” He raised his arms to show me like I hadn’t already been ogling them for hours. “I'm a tattoo artist. I own the Cherry Bomb with my buddy Ozzie. You should come by and check it out sometime. You got any ink?"

"Oh no," I said, shaking my head. "I'm a virgin and intend on staying that way."

Duke was the one who burst out laughing this time.

"Virgins are my favorite. You never forget your first time, right?"

I could feel myself turning red again. Why’d it have to sound so fricking sexy when he said it?

"Is it getting hot in here?"

"You are hot."

I should have laughed because I think it was meant to be funny, but the tension was thick, I could probably cut it with a knife.

He took a few steps and stopped when he was right in front of me. He placed his hand on mine, took the chair from me, and set it on the table.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable. I'm really not that good at this shit."

"What shit? Closing the store?" I asked. He brushed a flyaway off my forehead and tucked it behind my ear. Then his finger glided across the skin of my cheek, leaving goose flesh in its wake.

He winked before a slow smile tilted his lips up. "Oh, I can close a store. Child’s play. It’s closing a deal that throws me off."

“The coffee for life deal? “ I asked. The chairs were all up so I grabbed the mop and began to sweep it across the tiled floor.

Duke put his hands in his jeans pockets and raised an eyebrow at me.

“The deal where I don’t leave here without your number or asking you on a date.”

Chapter 2

Duke

"Oh," Madison said, pushing her dark hair behind her ear. She glanced away

from me, a hint of a shy smile on her face.

She was cute, so feisty and smart. I wanted to sit here and watch her animated, pretty face all day—so to hell with work, that’s exactly what I did.

The minute I'd walked in and saw that she was drowning, I couldn't help but jump in and get to work to help her out. My phone had been going off all morning with multiple texts from Ozzie, but I ignored them, and let all the calls go to voicemail. I knew I'd pay hell for it later, but I didn't care. All I cared about was making those furrows in her brow melt away. Maddy was gorgeous, that was undeniable, but my Achilles heel was my hero complex. I couldn’t watch somebody suffer and not step up to offer assistance. I’d been that way for a long time now, even though it turned out to be the bane of my existence. It’s just that I’d been in the hot seat before and I couldn’t stand to be idle and watch others go through it.

In a single shift I’d learned that Maddy had the best laugh. She knew how to improvise in a pinch. She was as real as they come and not afraid to fuck up or to show when she was vulnerable. I liked everything I’d seen about her, from her quick witted sarcasm to her banging body. Her improv was on point, to the point of being scary, and I hadn’t ever felt so comfortable with someone I’d just met.

"How did a tattoo artist learn such amazing customer service skills?"

"I'm in the service industry, too, you know, owning my own business and all," I teased. “If you want them to come back, you’ve got to treat them well.”

“I thought most tattoo artists just grunted and liked to inflict pain.”

I gave her a look that said, I’d considered her above that stereotypical bullshit.

"Oh God, that's not what I meant. I’m sorry. I'm really good at putting my foot in my mouth. Tattooing is cool, but you know, one of those jobs that’s so cool, you’re allowed to be a total dick. Like bartenders for example."

"Naw, it’s true, you’re right. My parents own Cherry Street Market. I've spent many an evening and weekends working there. Grew up in that store. Guess I learned good customer service from my parents. You need any inventory done cause I'm your go-to guy for that!"