18. Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Corbin
I hate slow days. Having nothing to do makes time creep by at a glacial speed. Plus, having no clients means I’m making no money. Actually, it means I’m losing money now that I have an employee. Since I don’t take walk-in clients, I usually spend this kind of day catching up on the tedious day-to-day stuff. But having Avery here means I have a lot less of that to do these days. In fact, she’s been so efficient that I don’t have anything to do to pass the time today.
Not even Noah and Jessie have anything going on today. They occasionally accept walk-ins, but those are the exception, rather than the rule. Not to mention, the shitty weather is probably keeping people from venturing out. The front door of the shop hasn’t opened in almost two hours. I have a client scheduled for later this afternoon, but I’m starting to wonder if she’s going to reschedule because of the weather. Not that I’d blame her. It’s the perfect day to avoid going outside if possible.
I look out the window where I can barely make out the dark shape of my car through the torrential downpour. It’s been raining like this for the past half hour with no end in sight. Normally, I’d be annoyed by the lack of clients and all the hours of down time. I’d spend the afternoon in my office, convinced that if I didn’t keep busy, it meant I was wasting the day. I’ve spent so many years pushing to get ahead that it feels like I’m falling behind if I relax for a moment. For some reason, today I’m not retreating to my office. Instead, I’m sitting in the main room with Noah, Jessie and Avery soaking up their conversation.
Jessie is carrying on most of the conversation with the others joining in as needed. She’s keeping busy reorganizing the supplies in her station while she talks. She does this a few times a year and usually when it’s slow like today. I get the feeling she hates being idle almost as much as I do .
Noah is playing a game on his phone, mostly tuning the rest of us out. I don’t mind, though. For my part, I’m mostly listening to the others talk while I work on a concept piece for a client’s tattoo. I’m not big on small talk and I’ve never been very good at mindless chatter to fill the silence. I’m happy staying in the periphery, rather than being in the center of things. I do my best to keep my focus on the tablet in my hands, even though I’d rather be looking at Avery.
I don’t know what it is about her, but I find my gaze drawn to her more and more as the days pass. No matter how many times I tell myself it’s a bad idea, I can’t seem to shake this attraction to her. Not that I’d ever let it show. I’ve worked hard to keep her at arm’s length for the past few weeks while still doing my best to show her the inner workings of the business. I meant what I said that day I handed her the contract. Things between us are going to remain professional. Even if it kills me.
She’s a quick learner. She’d taken to the business and organizational side of things in record time. Even I’ve got to admit she caught on much quicker than I had in the beginning. Maybe Jessie was right, and I’m not meant to be behind a desk. Not that I hadn’t already come to that conclusion myself. As for the artistic side of the business, she seems to have a good eye for color and design. She’s been enthusiastic when it comes to learning about skin as a canvas, not to mention the ways different body parts respond to tattooing. She’s been an excellent student so far. Not that I’ve told her that. It doesn’t fit with my plan to make her want to stay as far away from me as possible.
“So, Avery,” Jessie says, her voice cutting through the drone of rain and wind outside. “How are you liking Boston so far?”
I keep my eyes on what I’m doing, even though I’m curious to know the answer myself. I’ve learned from eavesdropping on the two women over the past few weeks that Avery is originally from New York and hasn’t lived in Boston very long.
“It’s not New York,” Avery says. “But it’s a great city.”
“Your family lives in New York?” Jessie asks.
I risk a quick glance over at Avery who nods without looking up from the paper she’s drawing on. “And all my friends from college. You guys are the only people I know here.” She gives a little shrug and a laugh.
“You need to get out more,” Jessie says, making Avery laugh again.
“This place keeps me busy enough,” she says.
Her hands move in quick, sure strokes over the page as she speaks, drawing my gaze back to her against my will. It’s obvious that whatever she’s drawing doesn’t require much of her concentration. I’ve noticed she brings her sketchbook with her every day. Whenever there’s a few minutes of downtime, she’s got it open with a pen in her hand. My guess is that she does it just to pass the time. Or it’s a nervous habit. I wonder what she’s drawing in that book of hers. Not that I ever plan on asking her .
Today, she’s drawing on a single sheet of paper instead of in her sketchbook. In fact, I haven’t seen the book at all today. I wonder if she left it at home. She must have asked Noah to borrow some paper. I doubt she’d ask me for anything if she needed it. She hasn’t asked me anything that’s not related to her duties at the shop since she started. It’s clear she took my little speech about professionalism to heart. It’s a good thing, I know. So, why does it bother me that she won’t ask me for something simple like a pen and a few sheets of paper? It’s not like I’d bite her head off for asking. Unless I’ve done such a great job keeping things professional that she thinks I’m a total asshole now. Why does that thought bother me?
I should want her to think I’m a total dick. The more she dislikes me, the less likely we are to try and blur the lines between us. So, I ignore the way my eyes can’t seem to stop tracking the movements of her hands as she works. I ignore the way the little furrow of concentration between her eyes makes her look fucking adorable. And I especially ignore the way my hands itch to reach over and smooth it away.
“You should check out The Mint with me some time,” Jessie says. “It’s a great bar and it’s only a few blocks from here.”
“I’m not big on the bar scene,” Avery says with a smile.
“This place is pretty low-key,” Jessie says. “They make killer loaded fries, too. ”
Avery laughs and points her pen at Jessie. “Now you have my attention.”
My mind goes back to the night I saw her at the club in that tiny red dress. She hadn’t looked out of place there. She’d looked like she belonged there, even in those heels she claimed to be an expert in wearing. In fact, she’d looked better than most of the other women there. Not that I’d even noticed anyone else after I saw Avery. I don’t like to admit it, even inside my own head, but she somehow commands my attention anytime she’s near. Which is another reason I need to keep her at arm’s length. But when I see her flip the single sheet of paper over to draw on the back, I realize she must have run out of space on the front. Without thinking, I reach into my desk drawer and grab one of the sketchbooks inside.
“Here,” I say, holding the book out toward her.
I’m hyper-aware that the room has gone silent. Even though I haven’t looked up to check, I know everyone is staring at me like I’ve grown an extra head. When Avery doesn’t take the book, I steel myself enough to glance up. I don’t look at Noah or Jessie. I have a feeling I know what expressions I’ll see on their faces. Instead, I meet Avery’s gaze. I expect to see surprise on her face, but she’s wearing a curious expression like I’m a mystery she’s trying to solve, and she’s just been given a new clue. I’m not sure what she hopes to discover, but there’s no great mystery here.
“Do you want it or not?” I ask, annoyed now .
Her mouth twitches with amusement and her face relaxes as she finally reaches for the book.
“Thank you,” she says. “I forgot mine at home this morning and drawing is kind of a compulsion for me.”
I fight not to smile at the accuracy of her description.
“I’ve noticed,” I say. “You can keep that one here if you like. Then you won’t need to remember to bring yours from home.”
She nods. “That’s a good idea. Thanks.”
I dip my head in a single nod before reluctantly pulling my gaze away from her face and back to the tablet in my hands.
“That’s nice of you, boss,” Jessie says.
Her words are innocuous enough, but something in her tone is accusatory. I look up at her, brows raised.
“I can be nice.” The words are at complete odds with my harsh tone, but I don't care.
Jessie’s expression is innocent, but I swear she’s hiding her laughter.
“Of course, you can,” is all she says.
I narrow my eyes at her. “Hmm.”
I don’t know why I spoke up. I should have just kept busy with my own work and let Avery doodle on that single sheet of paper until there wasn’t a speck of white space left. Now Jessie is studying me with that weird, amused expression on her face, and I don’t like it. I risk a glance at Noah and see that he looks amused but is keeping his gaze on his phone. It’s clear that he’s been paying more attention to us than I thought. Great. Now everyone is going to read into me giving her a fucking sketchbook.
“I’m going to my office,” I mutter, standing.
“Is there anything you need me to do?” Avery asks.
There are about a dozen things I want her to do, but none of them are work related. And all of them would probably earn me a one-way ticket to hell for asking. I shake my head.
“I just need to check my notes on this piece,” I say holding the tablet up absently as I walk quickly toward the safety of my office.
“Let me know if I can help,” Avery says.
I give a noncommittal grunt as I pass her, trying my damnedest not to inhale her scent as I do. What kind of fucking weirdo tries to sniff their employees? I’ve got a problem, and I don’t know how to fix it. If she were any other woman, I’d avoid her until the urge to sleep with her dissipated. If she were any other woman, I’d have given in and fucked her already. But she’s not just any woman. She works for me. She trusts me to train her. I need to get ahold of myself before she realizes exactly what I’ve been fantasizing about when it comes to her.
“Get your shit together,” I mutter once I’m in the quiet safety of my office with the door closed.
I adjust my perpetually hard dick, trying in vain to find a comfortable position. I don’t know why I bother. My pants haven’t been comfortable since Avery started working here. I heave a frustrated sigh as I flop into my chair behind my desk and close my eyes. Resting my head against the back of the chair, I try to clear my thoughts of anything related to my sexy little apprentice. It’s no use, though. It hasn’t worked for the past 22 days. What makes me think it’s going to work now?
I hide out in my office for as long as I think I reasonably can without everyone suspecting that I’m avoiding them. Even though that’s exactly what I’m doing. Before Avery started working here, I wouldn’t have given a second thought to how much time I was spending in my office. Before Avery got here, I avoided this fucking room as much as possible. Now, I’m doing the opposite. Eventually, I admit to myself that I’ve got to stop being such a chicken shit and man up. It’s not like I’ve done or said anything that would make someone suspect I’ve got the hots for my new apprentice. But if I keep actively avoiding her, people are going to wonder what the fuck’s wrong with me.
When I finally emerge from my office, Noah is applying a stencil to a woman’s ribcage while Avery watches. She’s got the sketchbook I gave her in her lap, but her focus is solely on Noah as he talks through the positioning of the stencil.
“It’s not rocket science,” I say. “But it’s easy to mess it up if you’re not used to the flimsy paper.”
Noah nods as he peels the transfer paper off the woman’s ribcage. “He’s right. I’ve screwed up a few in my day.”
Avery nods. “I’ll remember that,” she says .
“Go take a look,” Noah tells the woman, gesturing toward the mirror on the wall.
She walks over and turns this way and that studying the position of the design on her skin.
“What do you think?” she asks, turning to look at Avery.
Avery hops to her feet, setting the sketchbook on the table beside her. She walks over to where the client and Noah are standing near the mirror and starts discussing the design. I see a flash of white from the corner of my eye and notice a piece of paper on the floor near where Avery was just sitting. I look around the shop, but I don’t see Jessie anywhere. The others are still studying the image in the mirror and helping the client decide if she likes the placement. Before anyone notices, I bend down and pick up the piece of paper.
I can tell immediately that it’s one of Avery’s drawings. I recognize her work after weeks of watching her draw. I should put it on top of her sketchbook and walk away. I should leave it where I found it. But knowing what I should do and making myself do it are two very different things. Before the others can turn and see me, I fold the paper twice and stuff it into my pocket. I feel bad about the creases, but not bad enough to make me change my mind about keeping it.