Rigid (Whiskey Run Savage Ink 3)

I make sure my glare is in place before I even walk in the front door of Savage Ink. She’s been here a month. At first, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her, and then I’d work all night with a ragin’ hard-on. Now, I just don’t look at her. Yeah, my dick reacts when I hear her voice, but she doesn’t really talk a lot, at least not to me, so it’s not been a big deal.

I put my head down as I walk in. I don’t have to see her to know that she’s in her place behind the front desk. The scent of her lilac or flowery smelling soap hits me like a ton of bricks. I cringe, grit my teeth, and keep walking. I almost make it to the door to the back too.

“Hey, Dawson. How you doing tonight?” The sweet tone of her voice hits me, and it hits me hard. I stumble on my own feet and put my hand on the wall to catch myself. Before I can stop myself, my head swings toward Emily.

She’s smiling at me. It’s a fake smile, not like the ones that she gives Aiden, Treyton, and their women. But even though it’s obviously fake, it still does the same damn thing to me. My cock presses against my zipper as I take in her pale skin. She has her dark brown hair pulled up in a high ponytail, making her look way younger than her twenty-five years. Her green eyes are big and round in her face as she stares back at me. She has her arms crossed over her chest, showing off the fairy and heart tattoos on her arms as she unknowingly presses her breasts up the V-neck of her shirt. Well, fuck.

I shift uneasily, almost reaching down to cup my dick. “Hey,” I grunt at her.

It doesn’t sound friendly, and in no way should it encourage her to keep talking, but she does exactly that. “Let me know if you need anything. Your first appointment will be here shortly.”

She rambles out the words, and when she’s done, she blows out a breath and fake smiles again. I don’t know what to think about it. Usually she goes out of her way to avoid me. I really don’t know what’s with the change, but I know I need to get my eyes off her. I jerk my gaze away and look down the hallway to the door where my tattoo and piercing booth is. “Thanks,” I mutter to her before I stomp down the hallway.

I get to my room and slam the door behind me. It’s like I can imagine her cringing all the way in the front. I take a deep breath and then another. I would give anything to pull my dick out and stroke one out right now, but I know I can’t do that. Not here and not with Emily in the very next room.

I pace the small room and try to get myself together. I barely get my heart rate back to normal when there’s a knock on the door. “Dawson, your appointment is here.”

I take a deep breath and pull the door open and turn my back to her, acting as if I’m busy preparing for my appointments. “Send them back,” I tell her. I didn’t look at the appointment book, so I have no clue who the appointment is with, or if it’s a tattoo or piercing, but right now, I know I need to get lost in my work.

When she doesn’t move, I shake my head. “What is it, Emily?”

“Well, your next appointment is a piercing. I thought I could do it... you know, to get some more hours in.”

She looks hopeful as I look over my shoulder at her. She’s clueless on what she does to me. She’s logged in a lot of hours already, and I want to help her get her piercing license, but there’s no way I can be close to her in a small room tonight. “Nah. I got this one.”

No sooner are the words out of my mouth than Kelly, a waitress from Red’s Diner, slides in the room, almost pushing Emily out of the way. Before I can take the words back—there’s no way I want to be left alone with Kelly—Emily juts her chin at me and turns to leave. What was that look? I swear it looks like she was jealous, but there’s no way that’s the case. I almost follow her when Kelly puts her hand on my arm. I shake it off. “Hey, Kelly. So I need to grab something real quick. Have a seat up on the table.”

I smile at her, hoping she’ll do as I ask. She almost skips over to the table and jumps up, crossing one leg over the other, showing way more thigh than is appropriate, even for this place. I almost slap my hand to my head. Why did I not look at the schedule?