The Harder He Falls: 2 (So Inked) (3 page)

She leaned back on the stool that was currently serving as the front-of-house chair. “See something you like?” she drawled.

Color bloomed on his cheeks as his eyes locked on hers. “Nice shop.”

“Thanks.” She chuckled and twirled her pen between her fingers. There were still boxes lined up against the wall, bags of trash and clutter on the counters, but it was almost complete. “So are you interested in getting a tattoo?”

“Maybe. I had an appointment on Friday with Kellie, but it was rescheduled. I’m Quin.”

Oh great. He was her reschedule.

Quin approached the desk and leaned against it. He tilted his head to peer at her sketch. “That’s cool-looking. What is it?”

“A doodle,” she lied and flipped the book closed. “I’m Kellie.”

He stuck his arm over the desk, leaving her no option but to shake it.

“Did you have something in mind?”

“Not really. I’m more of the in-the-moment kind of guy.” He flashed her a smile that had undoubtedly caused plenty of panties to drop. Too bad she hadn’t bothered with any today.

She smiled politely in return and gestured to the monitor bolted to the corner of the desk. It allowed a customer to scroll through digital photos of each artist’s work. “Why don’t you flip through our portfolios? If you see something you like or have a question, let me know.”

She stood and turned toward her station. With Mary’s son Sam spending less time at the shop thanks to summer school, they each had to do their own stocking and tracking inventory.

“What are your hours?”

She pointed to the sign hanging from the receptionist desk. “1 p.m. to 2 a.m., seven days a week, except holidays.”

“That doesn’t leave a lot of time to yourself.”

Hearing the frown in his voice, she glanced over her shoulder. He was standing at the monitor, studying the screen. “That’s the price of owning your own business.”

His brows lifted and he glanced at her. “You own this place?”

His surprise grated on her nerves. Her lack of a dick had no impact on her skill as an artist or her ability to conduct business. She slammed shut the drawer she’d just opened and turned to him. “Yes, I do.”

He must have sensed her wrath because he held up his hands in a beseeching gesture. “Sorry, thought if you owned the place you would have other people working too. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Are you going to get a tattoo or are you going to keep wasting my time?” As if to punctuate her question, the shop phone rang. She stalked back to the receptionist desk and grabbed it. “Hello?”

“
Aye
, chill
chica
.”

“Hey, sorry.” Kellie turned her back on the potential client and braced a hand against the counter.

“I’m headed in, just calling to let you know. Autumn ever show?”

“Nope.”

“Damn.” Mary sighed.

Kellie picked up a pencil from the desk and rolled it between her fingers. Mary didn’t have to say what she was thinking. “I know. I thought you were taking today to be with Sam?”

“Plans change.” Her tone of voice went from grumbling to bright. “I’ll be in soon. You busy?”

She glanced at her browser. “Not at all.”

Mary sighed. “See you when I get there.”

Kellie ended the call and stared at her reflection on the plastic screen. Mary was her best friend and they barely saw each other anymore. She wanted a quiet evening watching TV with her or even just grabbing something to eat. Really she just needed her best friend. She put the phone in the cradle and turned back to the browser.

“I want one of these.” He swiveled the monitor to face her. Three shots of different samurai tattoos were spaced out on the screen, all of them her custom work.

If she could afford to turn him away, she would. She was grouchy and tired. Adding his happy ass to her day wouldn’t make it better. Yet she couldn’t afford to alienate a single client.

Kellie circled the desk to stand next to him. The three pictures displayed two traditional samurais and one of her more modern variations.

“Do you know what kind you want? Are you looking to get the traditional samurai head or the whole body?”

“I like this guy. He’s badass.” He pointed to a warrior swathed in crimson framed by a few cherry blossoms.

Kellie shifted from foot to foot. “That was a design I did for a guy so I can’t recreate it exactly. The sketch was lost in a fire.”

“A fire?”

“Yeah, our old shop burned down a month ago.” It hurt to say it still, but it was getting better.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Is everyone okay?”

Kellie opened and closed her mouth. “No.”

Daniel Wade was the name of the boy who had died in their shop. Kristen Misner had passed away from severe head trauma. And Carly still hung on, living at the hospital, attached to a city of machines that did everything from breathe for her to piss. It brought home just how transient life was, and that made her think of Grandma.

A warm weight settled on her shoulder. She blinked up at the man who somehow made her feel small. At five ten, she towered over most guys. His brow furrowed and his lips pressed tightly together.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Anyway, I can’t do exactly that, but I can do something similar. Do you have anything in mind as far as colors, positioning or anything?”

He looked from the monitor to her. “Nah. Why don’t you surprise me?”

Maybe he was supposed to be here today. She needed something to distract her from her problems and he looked good enough to fit the bill. “I can probably sketch something up in about fifteen minutes and do you today if you have time. My appointment canceled on me.”

“That works for me.”

“Great. I’ll grab the forms and you can fill those out.”

“Sounds good.”

Tiger—As a symbol, it represents a dominant personality and power, as well as ferocity and sensuality. It holds the kingly position held by the lion in Europe. It is almost always depicted in motion. The features are often distorted or abstract because the animal is not indigenous to Japan.

This was the person who’d wanted to buy the gym?

Quin had known there was another offer on the table when he’d set his mind on buying it. He’d done his homework since the escalating vandalism was starting to cost him more than pocket change. He’d briefly thought the vandal might be this chick but his gut told him she wasn’t the one. Which left him back where he’d started—nowhere.

Greg Redding. They’d gotten in a little bidding war over the gym when Quin bought it. Quin had come to Texas to work with Greg. It had been the worst mistake of his life. Leaving that hellhole had been the kick in the pants he’d needed to do what he really wanted. Start his own gym and teach his own fighters. Things were lining up, at least until the latest road bumps.

His decision to get more ink happened to coincide with wanting to find out about the previous owner’s family. If she wasn’t against him, maybe he could pick her brain a little. Plus, it didn’t hurt that Kellie was smoking hot. He’d never seen an Asian woman as tall as her, with legs that didn’t stop, a tight body liberally enhanced with mostly Japanese tattoos and boobs worthy of a porn star.

Quin settled into the tattoo chair, shirt draped over his lap, phone balanced on his knee, and placed his elbow on a freestanding arm support.

Kellie hummed along to the radio as she rummaged through a drawer.

“I’m going to shave you up a little and put the stencil on.” She turned back to face him with a disposable razor in hand. She ran a damp rag over his left arm. “I’ll get the outline done, and if at any point you want to stop and come back another day, we can do that. Just try to sit through the outline, okay?”

His skin crawled at the sensation of the blades stripping off hair. “You can’t do it all in one day?”

Her expression was serene. He couldn’t get a lot off her except earlier she’d been testy. He liked her better like this. “I could, but everyone has a different threshold of pain. If you can handle it, we can get a lot done today, but if not, there are options.”

He was getting the distinct feeling she didn’t believe he could take the pain. This wasn’t his first tattoo, and hell yeah they hurt, but he wasn’t a pansy. He smiled and winked. “Give it to me, doll.”

Kellie quirked a brow. He could hear her deadpan voice saying “Really?” in his head and it was all he could do to keep from laughing at her. Instead, she rolled her eyes and picked up the translucent paper.

The tattoo design was better than he’d expected. The samurai bordered on realistic as it brought a sword up in a guard position. He’d asked her to add bandages to the hands to mimic the way he’d taped his when he’d fought competitively. He didn’t know what she had in mind for the background or the colors, but he was pleased regardless.

“Go take a look at it and see if you like it.” She peeled the transfer paper off his arm and sat back in her chair, watching him.

He did as she requested and went to a mirror hanging at the back of the shop. Besides the image she’d transferred to his skin, Kellie had drawn lines around the samurai. Background maybe? It was a bigger piece than he’d anticipated, but he had told her to knock herself out designing it.

“That is badass,” he said after twisting his arm this way and that. “What’s all this other stuff around him?”

Kellie came to stand next to the mirror. She folded her arms under her breasts, which only drew more attention to them. At least until he glanced at her right arm. A gnarly Japanese foo dog’s mouth was open, frozen in a roar. “He’s going to be stepping off the pages of a scroll. He’ll look almost real, and the rest of it will look more like a watercolor image. I’ll border it with an aged parchment texture. Do you like it, or do you want to change it?”

“No, it’s going to be awesome.”

One side of her mouth kicked up and the hard-ass exterior cracked a little. “Come over here and take a seat.”

She turned and preceded him to her station. He’d never been jealous of clothing before, but her jeans were to be envied. The way they molded and hugged her ass was more than distracting. He sank back into the chair. It was clear he wasn’t one of her favorite people but he was going to win her over. She might not be his thief, but he wouldn’t mind her stealing some of his time.

Kellie turned to face him and the tattoo machine revved to life. “This is your last chance to back out.”

The clatter of the machine was familiar and a little intimidating. “Do your best, doll.”

She pursed her lips and inwardly he chuckled. He’d have to remember to keep calling her that.

Kellie bent over his arm and the machine settled into a steady hum. He watched the needle descend and sucked in a breath at the first prick. Black ink welled up on his skin in the wake of the machine. She traced a little ways, wiped the excess pigment away and kept going.

For several minutes he watched her make the longest uninterrupted lines he’d ever seen. He’d had enough work done on his right arm to know she had talent.

He eased back into the chair and leaned his head against the padded support. Now to kill a few hours. Originally he’d planned to go to Penny’s and try to smooth things over there, but she wasn’t speaking to him. Instead he’d talked to Chad, who had suggested he give her space and try back later in the week.

“So how long have you been doing this?” he asked.

“About ten years.” Her tone was distracted, speaking as if by rote.

“Ten years?” He eyed Kellie. “When did you start tattooing? When you were ten?”

She lifted the needle and chuckled. She swiped at his skin, cleaning up the portion she was working on. “I started when I was…” One eye squeezed shut and her lips screwed up. “I was twenty-one or twenty-two when I started my apprenticeship.” She swirled the needle in the reservoir of ink before turning back to him and getting to work.

“How do you get started tattooing? Do you just get a tattoo gun and set up shop?”

“Oh hell no. There are people who do that, but don’t go to them. I was living in Chicago at the time and got to be friends with this really cool chick. Her husband was a tattoo artist and she saw my designs and suggested we work together. He was having a hard time creatively and we collaborated on a few tattoos. I thought it looked cool and I wasn’t doing anything with myself, so I figured why not? I moved in with them, apprenticed and paid rent by babysitting their kids. Worked there four years before I moved back here.”

“Why would you move from Chicago to here?” Texas was an okay place to live cheap in comparison to other places he’d called home, but not his first pick by far.

“It wasn’t my choice. My mom got remarried and was moving. Grandma didn’t want to leave, so I came back so she wouldn’t be alone, and here I am. It’s not so bad.” She lifted a shoulder.

“What is there to do around here? I haven’t lived in the area long.”

“Depends on what you’re into.”

“Would you have time to show me around a little?”

Kellie glanced up from the tattoo. “Probably not. It’s nothing personal, but I’m busy and don’t go out much.”

“All the more reason for you to get out a little, doll.” He grinned when she glared. Taunting the devil had always been his favorite pastime.

Kellie was five seconds from pulling a Pandora and stabbing the tattoo needle through his eye. It wasn’t his fault she was crabby, but she didn’t want to do this song and dance tonight. She managed to get out a simple, “Um, no,” instead.

As if her day couldn’t get more complicated, the front door swung open and a girl wearing faux vintage sauntered in.

Kellie leaned back, straightening her spine and stretching. “Hey, can I help you with something?”

“Yeah, is Autumn here?” She pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head. “I was supposed to come in and talk to her about a tattoo.”

Inwardly Kellie groaned. Autumn owed her for this crap.

“She isn’t here. I think she’s sick. Did you have an appointment with her?”

“Yeah. Is she not coming in at all today?”

Kellie hated lying to a client, but it was better than admitting the truth. “No, she’s really sick. It’s only me here or I would offer to have someone else do it.” She stood, stripped off her gloves and headed for the desk. “Let me get your name and number. When Autumn gets back in I’ll have her give you a call.”

She grabbed pen and paper for the client and pushed it toward her. She waited for the girl to scrawl her information down and stuck it in the drawer. At this rate she was going to get a headache. Massaging her temples, she returned to her chair and pulled out a new pair of gloves.

“Why do I get the feeling Autumn isn’t sick?” her obnoxious client asked.

She sighed. It wasn’t his fault the truth was easy to see. She didn’t like lying. “Because she’s not sick. As far as I know she’s playing hooky.”

“So you lied to that girl?”

The familiar weight of the tattoo machine helped ground her. She had a job to do, and complicated moral situations could wait until she could examine them through the bottom of a bottle. “Yeah. Autumn’s going to pay for that.”

“Being the boss is tough work.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I would have done the same thing.”

She glanced at him. Maybe he wasn’t such a douchenugget after all. She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the thought.

Before she could even set the needle to his skin, the shop phone rang to life. She groaned and rolled her chair back as the bell over the front door chimed. Glancing at the newcomer, she sighed in relief. It was time something went right today.

“Hey, Mary, can you get that?” she called out.

“Got it.” Mary leaned over the receptionist desk and grabbed the phone.

“Okay, let’s knock this outline out.”

Not looking at him was the best thing to do. He might not be of the good-guy mold, but she had been hard on him. He had yet to squirm or complain while she worked, and besides his annoying habit of calling her doll, he was an average guy. If average guys were hot, buff and knew it. She even bet he was the rough sex type—hard and fast, just the way she liked it.

As much as she’d like to entertain the idea of a man in her life, she couldn’t. Between the shop, people drama, tattooing and Grandma, she didn’t have time for herself. There wasn’t enough of her to go around.

They lapsed into blessed silence for the last twenty minutes it took for her to use the lining needle to draw thin, black lines on his tanned arm. She connected the last of the outline and sat back to examine the bare bones of the tattoo. The muscles in her back ached and she was beginning to regret her decision not to look at him. She could feel his gaze caressing her, a constant reminder of his interest, and she couldn’t reciprocate. It wasn’t fair, but that was how it was.

“How many people do you see in here with kanji that doesn’t mean what they think it does?”

Kellie chuckled. “Considering I can’t read Japanese, fuck if I know. I’m not Japanese, I’m Korean.”

“Oh shit, sorry.” He had the grace to appear abashed by the assumption.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“So uh, a Korean chick doing Japanese tattoos?”

“How many people do you hear asking for a Korean tattoo?”

He paused before shrugging as she got more ink on the needle. “None.”

“Exactly. A lot of the Asian imagery is similar enough I can do something stylistic, but the Japanese style is where I earn my money. It’s all tattooing to me—Japanese, American, Chinese, Korean—who cares?” She’d never seen the point in turning her nose up at excelling at another culture’s art. Just because people wanted a Japanese dragon or geisha, she wasn’t going to turn them down. “Outline’s done. Do you want to look at it?” She squirted a sanitary liquid called green soap onto a rag and cleaned off his arm. The skin around the lines flared an angry red. He was tan enough she was going to have to get creative about her use of color to make the end result really pop, but she could do it.

He twisted his arm this way and that, surveying her handiwork. Instead of getting up and going to the mirror, he relaxed back into the chair and gave her a wink. “Looking good, doll.”

She gritted her teeth and mentally scrubbed away any thoughts of him being anything other than annoying. She dipped the needle in the ink and took a deep breath. Her grouchiness knew no bounds today.

Before she could start shading the piece, Quin’s phone rang.

“Hello?” His lips set into a hard line and a vein on his forehead slowly rose to prominence as he listened.

Kellie rolled back and picked up a bottle of water she’d left on the counter. She needed to watch how she handled clients. Quin clearly had patience or else he’d have walked out of the shop. Her talent was worth only so much. She made the painful choice to knock a little off what she would charge him. He wasn’t a bad guy, hell, he’d even offered her support in the Autumn mess and he’d really only flirted with her. She should be flattered, not pissed off.