Spring Break Fling

Chapter 21

21

HANNAH

I paced my hotel room. The carpet was probably wearing thin under my bare feet. My pitch sat in front of me on the desk, a collection of papers that had taken on a life of their own. Some pages were scribbled over in red ink, others crumpled into defeated little balls. The rest were scattered across the bed, the armchair, the windowsill—even the floor. My laptop was in the middle of the chaos.

This was my big break. My moment to shine. My one chance to convince people with actual power that my idea was worth something. And how was I doing? Fumbling it. Hard.

I picked up a page, cleared my throat, and read aloud. “The integration of modern multimedia tools into legacy platforms will?—”

Ugh. No. Too stiff. I groaned and flopped backward onto the bed, tossing the paper aside. “The integration of blah blah blah,” I muttered. “Why don’t you integrate a nap into your schedule, Hannah? You sound like a robot.”

I stared at the ceiling. Why did my big break have to come at the same time as a sexy, tattooed bad boy who occupied way too much of my mental bandwidth? Seriously, it was like the universe was mocking me .

I understood my client was a bit eccentric. He wasn’t going to appreciate the usual methods of presenting a marketing strategy. He was also not going to be interested in the traditional marketing campaigns.

He wanted innovation, something fresh and lively that could capture the essence of his brand while pushing boundaries. That was what I was aiming for, something that could not only appeal to him but also set a new standard in the industry.

It was like being told to color outside the lines after always being told to color inside the lines. It was being told trees were purple and the sky was yellow. I needed to forget all the rules and get out of my own head. It was difficult for me because I was a very black and white person. I didn’t step outside the lines.

But today, I had to. Today, I needed to be the kind of person who didn’t just step but leaped outside those lines. When I looked back at the scattered papers, they suddenly felt less like a mess and more like an opportunity.

I sprang up from the bed and started gathering the pages, smoothing them out as best as I could. Grabbing my marker, I began scribbling new ideas, connecting them with lines and circles, creating a web of creativity that spread across several sheets. It was messy, chaotic even, but also… it was freeing.

“Think outside the box. What would make you excited about this product? What would make you drop everything and listen?”

The room was silent except for the hum of the air-conditioner. My mind raced through possibilities. I forced myself to pretend I had never sat through a marketing class. I didn’t know the first thing about marketing. I was just a consumer.

I closed my eyes and thought about my favorite products. Like the eco-friendly skincare line that had transformed my dry skin last winter, or the quirky bookshop cafe where I’d spent countless hours. They were unique, personal, connected. They told a story.

I grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and started jotting down elements that made those places and products stick in my mind. “ Storytelling,” I wrote in big bold letters at the top. “Experiences, not just products.”

That of course made me think about me and Nikko on the beach. What he said about me picking up seashells and creating stories. That was what I needed to do here.

I sat back, examining the web of ideas sprawling out on the floor around me. Each piece of paper had random thoughts and visions. I could do this.

“Please,” I murmured.

A knock at the door startled me out of my pity party. My heart skipped, and I wasn’t even surprised when my first thought was Nikko.

I smiled expecting to find another envelope. I told him I couldn’t go out with him again, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to be asked. Or be wooed.

I scrambled up and opened the door to find him standing there, looking like he’d just fought off a gang of angry bikers. His jaw was tight, his shoulders tense, and his eyes burned with something I couldn’t name but immediately wanted to fix.

“Nikko,” I said, blinking at him. “Are you okay?”

He hesitated, glancing down the hall before finally meeting my gaze. “Can I come in? I need to talk to you.”

Something in his voice—like anger and vulnerability—tugged at me. I stepped aside. “Of course.”

As he walked in, his eyes swept over the chaos that was my room. Papers were everywhere, like my brain had exploded and taken the room down with it. He paused mid-step, his jaw tightening even more.

“My god, were you robbed too?”

I glanced around the mess. “No, I’m just, uh, organizing my notes.”

“Right, you’re working,” he said, turning toward the door. “I’ll go.”

“No!” I blurted, grabbing his arm. “Stay. I was about to take a break anyway. Trust me, I need to step back for a second. ”

It was a bald-faced lie, but I didn’t care. There was pain in him, and he’d come to me. The idea of him leaving now felt wrong.

“I don’t want to interrupt if you’re busy,” he said. “I’m not trying to burden anyone else.”

“Oh, please, it’s not a burden,” I said. “I’ve been considering throwing my laptop against the wall. So think of it as you saving me and my very expensive computer from myself.”

He hesitated for a long moment, then gave a small nod and sat on the edge of the bed, looking like he wasn’t sure whether to talk or implode.

“So,” I said, sitting beside him. “What’s going on?”

He exhaled slowly, raking a hand through his hair. “I might lose my job.”

I blinked. “What? Why?”

“Marcus,” he said simply. “He’s pissed about the break-in, and he’s right to be. My personal shit is getting too close to the shop. If something else happens, I’m out.”

“Oh, Nikko,” I said softly. “I thought you said it wasn’t your dad that broke in.”

“It wasn’t,” Nikko replied, his voice strained. “It was my ex’s new boyfriend.”

I stared at Nikko, trying to process what he’d just said. “Wait, what? Your ex’s new boyfriend broke into the tattoo shop?”

Nikko nodded, his jaw clenched tight. “Yeah. Greg. The meathead she was with when I went to pick up my stuff the other day. The cops have him in custody.”

“But… why?” I asked, struggling to make sense of it. “Why would he do that?”

Nikko shrugged, his shoulders tense. “No idea. Maybe he doesn’t like me. Samantha is a manipulative bitch. She probably told him we were screwing around or that I was trying to get back with her.”

I watched Nikko’s face, seeing the mixture of anger and hurt in his eyes. “That’s awful,” I said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “It’s not your fault. Just another mess I’ve gotta clean up. More of my personal shit messing with my professional shit.”

“But it’s not fair,” I protested. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Can’t you explain that to Marcus?”

Nikko laughed bitterly. “Doesn’t matter. In his eyes, I’m still the one bringing drama to the shop. First my dad showing up demanding money, now this. He’s not totally wrong but it still sucks.”

He looked away, his shoulders heaving with a loud sigh. “The shop’s not just a job, you know? It’s my home. Diego and Jessie… they’re like family. My annoying brother and sister. We bicker like we grew up together. Marcus has done more for me than anyone ever has. If I lose this, I don’t know what the hell I’ll do.”

I wanted to say something, anything, to fix this for him, but my usual pep talks felt hollow in the face of his despair. His problems needed more than just reassuring words.

Finally, I said, “If the worst happens, Diego and Jessie will still be there for you. And you’ll be there for them. They’re the family that matters. Not the one you were born into. The family you found and built for yourself.”

He nodded, but it was a reluctant, heavy kind of nod. “Yeah. I guess.”

“You can’t control every variable, Nikko.”

His lips twitched into something like a smile. “That’s funny coming from a control freak like you.”

I laughed, the tension between us easing just a fraction. “We’re talking about you right now. Don’t change the subject.”

He shook his head, the almost-smile fading. “It’s just the idea of losing it all. It hurts, you know?”

I reached out, resting a hand on his arm. “Of course it does. But you’re more than that shop. With your talent, you can forge your own path. Plus, you’re resilient. You’ve been through hell, and you’ll get through whatever comes your way.”

He looked at me, like he was trying to see inside my soul. It was intense, almost too much.

I started to pull back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to?— ”

He didn’t let me finish. His lips crashed into mine and I forgot how to breathe.

The kiss was urgent, consuming, like he was trying to drown out the world and take me with him. I should have stopped it, should have said something, but my brain short-circuited.

Before I knew it, he was laying me down on the bed, his hands framing my face, his body warm and solid against mine.

“Nikko,” I whispered, but it wasn’t a protest.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his voice low and rough. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I don’t want to stop.”

And in that moment, neither did I.

My heart raced as Nikko’s hands skimmed down my sides. His touch ignited something deep inside me, a hunger I’d been trying to ignore. I arched into him, my fingers tangling in his hair, and I pulled him closer.

“We shouldn’t,” I murmured against his lips, even as I hooked a leg around his waist.

“Probably not,” he agreed, trailing kisses along my jaw. “Tell me to stop.”

But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. All the reasons we shouldn’t do this faded away, replaced by the urgent need to find that connection with one another.

Nikko’s hands were everywhere, leaving trails of fire on my skin. His lips moved to my neck, finding that sensitive spot just below my ear that made me gasp. I clutched at his back, my nails digging in as desire churned through me.

He pushed me on my back.

“Ow,” I murmured against his lips.

“What happened?”

I slid my hand up and found the missing cap to one of the markers.

He grinned. “Maybe we clear this shit off,” he said. “I don’t know what you’ve got going on here, but I’m thinking we don’t want to mess up any important notes.”

I giggled and rolled away. I grabbed pages and haphazardly tossed them off the bed. Nikko helped me, sweeping papers and pens onto the floor. As soon as the bed was clear, he pulled me back to him, his lips finding mine again. The urgency from before had shifted into something slower, more deliberate. His hands slid under my shirt and cupped my breasts.

I pushed his leather jacket off his shoulders. He stepped back and let it drop to the floor. I tugged at the hem of his shirt, making it clear I wanted it off. If we’re doing this, let’s fucking do it.

He pulled the shirt over his head and revealed his skin. My breath caught as I took in the intricate tattoos covering his chest and arms. Without thinking, I reached out to trace one. It was like flames. The detail was incredible.

“Beautiful,” I murmured.

Nikko’s eyes darkened as he watched my fingers explore his skin. “You should see the rest of them,” he said with a wicked grin.

I bit my lip, heat rushing through me at the implication. “Then show me.”

He groaned and pulled me flush against him, capturing my lips in another searing kiss.