7
LEXI
The steady buzz of the tattoo machine isn’t enough to keep me out my head today and it’s driving me fucking insane.
Blossom wasn’t playing when it came to my apprenticeship. I spent a few hours yesterday doing several drawing exercises, even though she and I both know I didn’t necessarily need the practice. I’ve been drawing my whole life as a form of escape from the bullshit I’ve had to live through.
Today, when I got to work, I took care of my normal responsibilities before Blossom pushed me into her room. A tattoo machine and a basket of fruit were waiting for me. After ensuring I didn’t have any questions and giving me some suggestions of what to practice, she left me to do my thing.
Tattooing fruit may not be the most extravagant way to spend my day, but everyone has to start somewhere. I’m lucky enough to be able to skip over the basic tasks an apprentice would normally undergo because I’ve been working here for so long. I know the ins and outs of the business. I’ve spent countless hours watching the artists work. So, I don’t care if Blossom wants me to tattoo a thousand goddamn grapefruit, I’m happy to do it.
Especially today.
I need a break from the bullshit, and I had high hopes that this would be it.
I thought I could lose myself in the art, forget about the drama at home.
I couldn’t have been more fucking wrong.
With a growl of frustration, I chuck a fucked-up grapefruit in the nearby trash bin.
Linework is one of the most important parts of a tattoo and I keep fucking it up. I shouldn't be screwing up this badly. I've been practicing with my own machines for over a year and my linework is usually impeccable. I haven't told Blossom, nor do I plan to let her in on that little tidbit. I have to go through the process like anyone else. Today is a terrible day. I'm too fucking distracted and it's pissing me off.
“How’s it going in here?” Blossom asks, stepping into the room at the worst possible time. She chuckles when she sees the expression on my face. “That good, huh?”
Sighing, I set the machine down and massage my temples.
“What’s going on with you today, Lexi?”
For the first time in a long time, I have the burning need to open up to someone, to talk about what’s going on and get some things off my chest.
But I can’t.
It’s not my story to tell.
It would be selfish and wrong for me to put Hope’s trauma on blast for my own consolation. Out of all the bombs dropped the other day, none of them have anything to do with me directly. I shouldn’t even feel as affected as I do, but hearing Hope reveal what happened to her dredged up things from my past that no one else knows about, things I didn’t feel the need to share. This whole situation has my head and heart completely fucked up.
“Got a lot on my mind,” I answer vaguely, cleaning up some of the mess at my temporary station.
“Oh yeah?” she asks. “Have anything to do with the drop-dead gorgeous guy hangin’ around up front asking for you?”
I freeze.
“What guy?”
It’s a pointless question.
There’s only one man it could possibly be.
“Tall, dark, inked, and sexy. Backwards hat. Cute little dimple in his chin. Ringing any bells?” I roll my eyes, and she gives me a sly smirk. “You gotta know who he is, honey. He’s exactly your type. This one must be special… you don’t normally let ‘em stick around, and you damn sure don’t let them come around.”
“It’s not like that.”
Even though I kinda want it to be.
“Mhmm,” she hums, her facial expression calling me out on my bullshit more than her words ever could. “Why do I not believe you?”
Ignoring her snark, I stand and snap off the black nitrile gloves covering my hands, tossing them in the bin with the discarded grapefruit.
“I’m gonna go see what he wants.”
“Oh, honey. I can tell you exactly what that man wants,” Blossom teases, giving me a saucy wink.
Scoffing, I roll my eyes as I walk away, her laughter following me like a shadow as I head to the front.
I see Jake before he sees me.
Leaning against the front counter, he flips through a portfolio, admiring the tattoos displayed on the pages.
Instead of announcing myself, I admire him.
Tall, dark, inked, and sexy.
Blossom described him perfectly.
She pointed out all my favorite parts of his appearance, but she neglected to mention the way his jeans hug his tight ass and how the sleeves of his tee strain against the muscles in his biceps. Damn.
I let my gaze roam, eyes moving hungrily over every inch of him. This man is head to toe deliciousness. There’s not a single thing about him that isn’t appealing. Like Blossom said… he’s exactly my type. It’s no wonder I can’t stop thinking about him.
As if he can sense my thoughts, his head lifts, and his eyes instantly connect with mine.
His gaze is dark, knowing.
I’m totally fucking busted.
A wolfish grin stretches across his face, deep laugh lines appearing at the corners of his mouth as he turns his full attention on me. His eyes start to move, the intensity of his gaze searing into me as he makes a slow perusal of my body. He licks his lips, and a tiny spark ignites in my core, the heat blazing into an inferno, spreading fire through my veins the longer his eyes linger.
Jake eye fucks me right here in the tattoo parlor where everyone can see.
Shamelessly.
Without care.
It makes me feel dirty, naughty.
And I love every fucking second of it.
“What are you doing here, Jake?” I ask, unable to stop my hips from swaying seductively as I close the distance between us.
He notices.
“Thought I’d drop in and see what time you get off. I wanna take you out to dinner.”
Hell yes.
It’s my first thought, an instinctive response, but I don’t voice it aloud.
Because my second thought is of how messy things could get given everything that’s happened since we met.
I want Jake.
There’s not a single part of me that denies it.
But it’s not that easy. It’s never that easy.
If Jake and I were the only people involved… if we’d met under any other circumstances, it wouldn’t be a question. There would be no hesitation, no holding back.
But intentional or not, Jake’s arrival in our lives stirred up a shitstorm.
The situation we’ve found ourselves involved in is a clusterfuck of epic proportions and the two of us getting involved might not be the smartest idea. I have to think about my family, and he has to think about his friends and his job. It’s complicated, and I hate complications.
Buried under all the reasons we shouldn’t is this desperate sense of need.
The need to unravel whatever this connection is that’s drawing the two of us together.
It’s the one thing that makes me decide to throw caution to the wind.
But I don’t have to make it easy on him.
Where’s the fun in that?
“And what about what I want?” I ask.
I already know I’m going to give in, but I wanna draw this out, make him work for it. At least a little bit. I haven’t swallowed the worry that things could get messy but remembering that Jake isn’t from around here helps me push it down. We’re both tangled up in this situation with Riley and Mercy, but we can keep whatever this is separate from that. Besides, once Jake has the answers he came for, he’ll be gone. It won’t matter after that.
One night with him can’t hurt.
He leans in, lowering his voice to a rumbling whisper. “I think we both know I can give you exactly what you want. All you have to do is say yes.”
Damn, he’s good.
And I. Am. Fucked.