20. lucas
TWENTY
lucas
That kiss had been a bad idea.
Goading Charlee, a bad idea.
We hadn’t even discussed a more public ‘letting her father discover us’ date, which was, admittedly, the point of getting together. Or pretending to get together for his sake.
“Can I help you?” The woman behind the counter was young. Pretty. College-age, most likely.
“I was looking for transfer paper. For tattoos. My shipment came in, but it was low, and I’m opening up this week on Main Street.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re the guy from Grunt Ink Tattoos?”
“I am.”
“Oh man, everyone is talking about that place.”
“Is that right?” I asked.
“Yeah. Some people are worried it’ll bring the wrong sort of people to Kitchi Falls, but I think they’re out of their minds. As if people with tattoos are inherently bad.” She looked at my tattoo sleeve. “Clearly, I don’t agree with them.”
“Good to hear,” I said, frankly getting a little sick of all the people that had a problem with my shop but didn’t have the balls to say it to my face.
“When do you open?”
“Tomorrow,” I said. “Soft opening.”
“Are you taking appointments?”
“I am,” I said. “Only have a few this week since I didn’t hire anyone to help out yet and am giving myself extra time to work out the kinks.”
“You mean, like another tattoo artist?”
“Yeah, or even someone to work the front desk. I’m a one-man show for now.”
The woman looked to her left and right at the craft store filled to the gills with supplies. Surely they had transfer paper, but I wasn’t sure if she was actually planning to get it for me or not.
“Hire me.”
Had I heard her correctly?
“The owner here is a total dick,” she whispered. “I’ve been thinking of quitting.”
“Wouldn’t hiring you leave him high and dry?” The last thing I wanted was someone who would walk out like that. If she did it here, she’d do it just as easily to me. Nate was fond of saying “a zebra doesn’t change his stripes,” and I couldn’t disagree.
“Well, I’d have to give him two weeks’ notice. But I’m only here part-time. I also attend a local community college, so I might be able to squeeze in a few hours at your place, too, in the meantime, just to get my feet wet.”
Good answer.
“What do you know about tattooing?”
“Exactly nothing.”
I laughed. “Perfect,” I said, kidding, obviously.
On the plus side, she had a welcoming personality, exactly what the shop would need. And she wouldn’t actually be doing any tattooing, but it would be helpful for her to learn.
“What’s your name?”
“Alex,” she said. “Davis.”
Alex. Charlee. What was it about Kitchi Falls that the women’s names were also men’s? Or maybe that was just the vibe I attracted. And there was no doubt about the fact that, though she was young, this woman was extremely attractive. And yet. . . nothing.
Fucking Charlee. She’d ruined me.
Which was precisely why my tastes in bed ran a bit on the. . . eccentric side. . . these days. Something to capture a thrill I needed that wasn’t always there otherwise.
“Can you come by this week?”
“I’m off here in an hour. I have a night class at six but can come over in between.”
She was ambitious too. Perfect.
“About that transfer paper. . .”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Yes, we do. Aisle five.”
Grabbing the paper, I checked out, glad to have come in rather than order more online and chance running out. Now I had a front desk clerk, even if she was part-time, which suited me just fine for the time being.
Sure enough, as she’d said, Alex showed up at the shop a little more than an hour later. I gave her a tour, explained a bit about the tattoos, and was showing her how the guns worked when the front door opened. Apparently, I hadn’t locked it.
Charlee.
She took one look at us, obviously assumed the worse, and turned on her heel and walked back out the door.
Jealousy.
Served no purpose. But there it was. I hated it about myself, and frankly was only really jealous when one person was involved. The same person who’d shown a streak of it that I hadn’t known existed in her.
“Charlee, wait,” I called, telling Alex I’d be right back. Following her out the front door, I caught up with her on the sidewalk. “Hold up.”
She spun around toward me.
“First,” she said, not holding back, giving it to me with both barrels, “you leave me at the winery after asking if I could spend the afternoon with you. Then, you ignore my texts. And now. . .” She waved her arm toward the shop. “This.”
Her eyes flashed. The casualness she’d displayed yesterday walking away from me when I’d rejected her—not that rejection had been my intention—was gone.
“She’s my new employee,” I said. But that didn’t seem to help.
“Fantastic.”
Smiling, I closed the distance between us. “What happened to my good girl?”
Charlee’s demeanor instantly changed. “We’re not in the bedroom,” she said. “Which is the only place there’s even a chance of my being submissive.”
I moved quickly. Though my grip was firm, I didn’t need to drag Charlee into the alleyway next to my shop so much as guide her by the wrist, since she went willingly. Which was a good thing, because I had one very specific purpose on my mind.
Pinning her against the wall, Charlee’s wrists now trapped above her head with one hand, I held her firm. Her breath caught as she looked into my eyes. But I wasn’t ready to kiss her. Not yet.
“Let me ask you again. Where is my good girl, Charlee?”
Her chin rose.
“This is, indeed, no bedroom, but close enough.”
When she didn’t answer, I cupped her cheek in the palm of my hand. My thumb ran along her lower lip as I tugged on it, willing her to open her mouth.
She did.
Slipping my thumb inside, resting it against her tongue, I tried again. “Charlee. Suck.”
Though her tongue twitched beneath my thumb, she didn’t suck. Not yet.
“Do it,” I said more firmly.
Her lips closed around me. So soft. So wet. And then she began to suckle.
Dear Lord.
Charlee’s teeth grazed my thumb in a not-so-subtle warning. The mewling sounds she made at the back of her throat. . .
I pulled my hand from her mouth. “Who are you a good girl for?
“You, Lucas. I’m a good girl for you.”
Mmmmm. “And good girls get rewards.”
This kiss, unlike the last one, wasn’t frantic. Instead, as my lips moved over hers, my hand still holding hers steady above her head, it was slow. Sensual. A kiss meant to convey the kind of longing time apart brings. Losing myself to the kiss, I stopped questioning if this should happen and instead just let whatever would be. . . be.
When we finished, I released her wrists.
Charlee didn’t move. But then again, neither did I.
“Now then. How about you tell me why you came to the shop in the first place?” And before she could answer, I added, “And then I’ll finish the training so we can go grab a bite to eat. Unless you want to skip straight to dessert?” I leaned into her to whisper in her ear. “We may have never had sex, Charlee, but I do remember very distinctly how sweet you taste.” I stood back up. “So? What’ll it be?”