Falling for Fallon (Oak Hill 2)

I could sense Axe’s eyes trailing me as I turned around and walked past my desk. I didn’t look at him because I knew he would more than likely make a big deal out of me giving this poor, terrified chick a belly button piercing.

Light footsteps followed me through the shop, and as soon as I moved into the back room, the girl breezed through the threshold. She smelled damn good—like the light scent of flowers or something. Nothing too overpowering. Just enough to make your head turn.

“Let me go get the paperwork. I’ll show you the piercings we can use.” I barely managed to grunt the sentence out. I clenched my teeth, annoyed with how flustered I was.

Get a goddamn grip, bro. She’s not the first hot piece of ass you’ve seen.

As soon as I’d walked out of the room, Axe was standing close by with his colorful, full-sleeved arms crossed over his chest. One of his dark eyebrows was quipped upward, and his smirk was growing larger with each passing second.

“Need something?” I questioned, pulling open the cabinet and grabbing the waiver form.

“You hate piercings.”

I shrugged. “You’re occupied and Kip is stocking.”

He chuckled. “She could have waited a few.”

I didn’t meet his eye. “Bad business. Which is exactly what you’re presenting right now by leaving your new girlfriend over there with half a tattoo on her back.”

He bellowed out a laugh, and that was when I raised my head and glared at him. He shook out his unruly curls. I turned on my heel and walked back to the damsel in distress, feeling agitated.

“Okay, I just need you to fill—” My eyes almost fell out of my fucking skull. I closed them tightly and flipped my body around. I hated that I could feel my dick jerk in my jeans, too. “Jesus Christ! Why is your shirt off?!”

I was not expecting to walk back into the room to a half-naked girl (not that it wasn’t pleasing). The damsel was sitting there, her eyes trained on the ceiling, her perky breasts spilling out of a light pink, lacey-as-fuck bra. She looked out-of-this-world sexy with her slimming skirt pulled down just below her belly button and her bare legs poking out from below.

“Oh!” she cried. “I thought I was supposed to take my shirt off for a belly piercing. That’s what Google told me!”

I bit my tongue to keep myself from laughing. I mumbled, “Google lied. Please put your shirt back on.”

I wanted to laugh. I wanted to laugh so fucking hard because it was totally fucking obvious that this girl had no idea what the hell she was doing. It made me wonder why she was even here in the first place. Usually, when females came in to get a piercing, their asshole boyfriend was with them—or at least a friend. But not this little thing, no. She was alone, nervous as hell, and out of place.

I could hear her shuffling around and pulling her shirt back on. She was huffing and puffing as if she were angry about something.

I slowly turned around and noted the way her light, subtle freckles were displayed on her blazing red cheeks. “What’s your name?” I asked, walking a little farther into the room.

She looked away for a second and then snapped her blue eyes back to me. “Fallon.”

I grinned. Fallon. I liked that.

“Okay, Fallon,” I repeated. I crossed my arms over my chest, still holding on to the waiver. “Are you sure you want to do this? You seem…”

Fallon stopped me mid-sentence by mimicking my stance. She crossed her arms over her chest, and I couldn’t help but imagine she was still standing there without a shirt. “Don’t tell me how I seem. I need to do this, and I need to do it now.”

I narrowed my eyes and tilted my head. A wicked smile formed on my lips at her sudden irritation. Who is this girl? And why am I so interested in her?

“Alright. Here… I need you to look this over and sign.”

I held out the pen and form for her, and she snatched it away, crumbling it with her shaky hand. I studied her as she scanned the words and then scribbled her name quickly.

She handed it back to me and sat down again, lying back in the chair. She still looked nervous as hell.

“Do you want any particular color? I have to use this type.” I showed her the type of ring I had to use, which was just a silver hoop with a pink ball connecting the two ends. “You can change it out once it’s healed, though.”

“I don’t care what color. Just do it.”

I chuckled as she clenched her eyes shut, her long eyelashes poking out from between her eyelids.