He breaks through my thoughts. “Come to the back, you can go through the books and find what you want.”
He turns away from me, and I have no choice but to follow him. I couldn’t imagine walking away from him right now. He may be someone I just met and I don’t know anything about him, but he’s definitely the best thing to happen to me today. I’m not ready to just let it go yet.
I walk behind him, watching the way his back muscles stretch the Henley shirt across his shoulders. His jeans are snug, and I’m definitely appreciating his tight butt. I follow him down the hallway, and he walks into a room with a big sprawling chair, a counter with supplies and then two chairs up against the wall. He’s watching me again. “This is a nice place, not what I expected.” I cringe, did I just say that out loud? “I mean...”
He holds his hand up to stop me. “No, it’s fine. I know what you meant. And thank you, this is my place. I’m Aiden Savage.”
“Savage Ink,” I mutter, making the connection with his last name and the name of the shop.
His lips curl up as he nods. He points to the chair, and I lift myself up onto the edge of it. “Tell me your name,” he demands.
From anyone else it would sound bossy or rude, but from him all it does is make that pull in my lower belly tug even harder. I don’t know what he’s doing to me, but I know I like it. “Gracie,” I tell him in a half whisper.
“Gracie,” he repeats huskily. He looks me up and down, burning a path on my body. “That name suits you.”
Before I can ask him what he means, he grabs a book off the counter. “These are the tattoos I’ve done before, but I’m thinking I’d like to do something unique for you.”
I grab the book, because even though I know the design I want, I still want to see his work. I open the first page and am floored. “You did these?” I ask in awe.
He nods, and I swear there is a pink tinge on his cheeks like he’s embarrassed. “They are amazing.” I keep flipping through the book, and every tattoo is better than the last. “My goodness, Aiden, you really have talent.”
He ignores my compliment. “Tell me what you were thinking, and we can start from there.”
I set the book down on the chair beside me and reach into my purse. I’m almost embarrassed to pull the artwork out. I never let anyone see any of my drawings except for my dad that one time, and it seems even riskier now to have Aiden look at it. He’s a professional artist. I would be devastated if he said he didn’t like it.
I pull the small sketchbook out and flip to the last page. Taking a deep breath, I hand it to him and lower my eyes. I can’t see his reaction. I don’t want to.
The room is completely silent, but I still don’t look at him. I bind my hands together in my lap and stare at the chipped polish on my thumb.
His voice is deep and fills the room. “Can I look at the rest of them?”
Finally, I look at him. “Why? That’s the one I want.”
He lifts the book up between us. “Because this is surreal, Gracie. It’s beautiful and breathtaking... I swear it looks as if it could fly right off the page. You’re gifted.” He grips the book tighter. “Please, let me look.”
I let out the breath I’ve been holding, and even though I can’t put voice to it, I nod my head. He likes my drawings.
Aiden
When she finally nods her head, I flip to the beginning of the book and start at the first page. Her artwork is amazing. There are so many uplifting images of hope and dreams it floors me. But there’s also sadness in some of them, images of caged birds with big sad eyes that I swear look just like Gracie’s big, sky blue ones. Does she feel like a caged bird? The thought sickens me that she would feel anything but happiness. But when I finally get back to the image of the butterfly she wants tattooed on her body, I know I’m not wrong. The way she drew the butterfly in flight, with the same blue tones of her eyes, I know it’s freedom she’s yearning for, and as I hold her book to my chest, I vow to give it to her. I may not know her story, but I will before the night is over.
“Thank you for letting me look at these, Gracie. I would be honored to put this tattoo on you.”
There’s so much more I want to say. I want to demand answers, but I can tell she’s worried about what I will think of her drawings, so I don’t want to push her. She finally nods and I ask her, “Where do you want it?”