Chapter 31
Thirty-One
DARIA
The funny sounds my car makes are obnoxiously loud this morning, or maybe I’m more aware of them as I park behind Vic at his shop. Aside from my questionable transportation, I’m living a dream. Dinner with Lincoln was magical, orgasms included. The way he kissed me good night—like it was the last thing he’d ever do—was almost cruel.
My dreams were filthy, and I woke up so horny, I used the vibrator Quinn raved about. The release it provided was enough that I didn’t attack Vic as soon as he showed up at the little café where we had breakfast.
He hops out of his truck, the dark jeans and expensive black zip-up hoodie almost more attractive than if he were naked. Okay, maybe not, but I like the way he looks when he’s comfortable.
My car clunks again, and he raises his eyebrows at it. I quickly kill the engine and climb out, smiling and ignoring the way I die a little on the inside. He’s glaring at my car like it’s a piece of trash, which is a fair assessment, but it’s all I have.
“Bet you wished you could take Betty for a spin, huh?”
“Betty?” he asks, shaking his head. “Nah, Betty sounds like she’s ready to put out to pasture.”
I pat the hood where the paint isn’t peeling. “Don’t listen to him, Betty. You got this.”
Vic chuckles and grabs my arm, dragging me against his body. “Come here.” Engulfing me in his arms, he drops his nose to my neck, groaning as he takes a lungful of my scent and nips at his choker that I rarely take off. “I missed you.”
Resting my cheek against his chest, I breathe him in. Richly sweet myrrh that blends perfectly with my lavender. “I missed you too.”
He holds me until my heart is full, then clasps his hand around mine and leads me to the shop, unlocking the door long enough for us to get inside before relocking it. “People will walk in if it’s open,” he says when he spots my questioning look.
Rock music is playing through the speakers, and a woman comes out of the bathroom, carrying a watering jug. She’s wearing killer boots, fishnet tights over fraying shorts, and a cute off-the-shoulder sweater. She’s really fucking pretty.
“Hey, Mika.”
“Hey, boss,” she says, waving at Vic. “Who’s your friend?”
“This is Daria, my girlfriend.”
Mika’s mouth pops open in surprise, but she recovers nicely. “Oh, well, that’s cool as shit. Nice to meet you, Daria. Vic’s pretty okay.”
“Pretty okay?” Vic asks with a chuckle.
She grins at me, and I smile back. “Yeah, you’re all right,” she tells him. “I have to water the plants—they’re so needy—but maybe we can talk later?” That question is directed at me.
“Sure, nice meeting you.” When I glance at Vic to see if he watches her walk away, his eyes are set on me.
“Only you, little doe,” he says with a knowing grin.
Refusing to confirm that I was worried he’d find her attractive, I look around the shop. The front desk is a small U shape that sits in the middle of the lobby floor. There’s a door leading to what must be a back room, and the walls up front are lined with work from the different artists and the shop employees. There’s a small merch station off to the side and a few couches set around the room. On the left is a staircase, leading up to where the tattoo stations must be.
“What do you want to see first?” Vic asks.
“Show me where the magic happens.”
Still holding my hand, like he’s worried I’ll run away—or maybe he merely wants me close—Vic leads me up the stairs and to the station at the very back of the room. The wooden floors run the length of the room, ending at the exposed brick walls. Custom art is hung around the space as well, which makes sense for the type of work they do. The plants that Mika’s here to take care of are all around the floor, too, giving the space some warmth that the brick walls lack.
Vic’s station is mostly clean, but there’s a small spread of designs on his worktable. I tug my hand from his and stop at the desk, studying the precise lines, the emotion he somehow evokes with a simple outline.
“Wow, you’re really good.”
“Yeah?” Wrapping his arms around me from behind, he rests his chin on my shoulder and looks at the art. “I don’t like any of those.”
“Why? They’re amazing.”
His palms clutch my low stomach, and butterflies roar to life. Sighing, he shrugs. “They’re not perfect.”
If this is his worst, I’m dying to see the work he is proud of. My graphic design work almost feels silly in comparison. I run my finger over the portrait of a little baby. Somehow, he’s captured that innocent joy only babies have. “They’re really, really good, Vic.”
He hums and kisses my shoulder. “Thanks, little doe. Do you want one?”
Turning in his arms, I gaze up at him, biting my lip when I spot the pure adoration shimmering in his eyes. This beta likes me. “I’ve never gotten a tattoo.”
“So, I’d be your first?” he asks with a wicked grin, running his hands down to grip my ass.
I swat his chest and giggle, burying my head against his chest to hide my inner turmoil from him. There’s nothing I want more, but again, it feels wrong to agree until they know the truth. It’s killing me to wait until Monday to tell them. It only feels right to tell them all together, though. “If I want one, you’d be my first,” I mumble against his shirt.
He hums in approval and his fingers coast up my spine. “There are so many places I could put it.”
I bet money he’s not only talking about a tattoo, but Mika is here, and I’m not sure I want to add exhibitionism to my repertoire. “So, this is your station. What about the rest of the shop? What’s your favorite space?”
“I like my station, but I love escaping to the break room between clients.” His eyes flicker, and he tips his head. “Actually, there’s something I want to show you.”
As we pass Mika on the way down the stairs, she simply nods at us. I take pride in not being insecure, but it’s nice to know this gorgeous woman that’s around Vic all the time isn’t interested. She’s more concerned about the plants than she is my scent match.
That irrational omega jealousy takes solace in that.
The break room has a totally different vibe from the main floor. The lights are dim, and the walls are lined with thick, dark wooden panels. Two comfy couches sit on either side of a coffee table, and a stream of misty air shoots out of a cute diffuser. When Vic turns to look at me with an expectant look, it takes me all of two seconds to figure out why.
Lavender, soft touches of an ambery musk. I know that scent.
“That’s me,” I say softly.
“Technically, that’s The D.” He opens a little supply closet and pulls out a familiar bottle and hands it to me. “I found this shop a while ago, and this is my favorite scent. Sometimes, I come in here just to breathe it in. I guess I know why now. You smell like lavender.”
“I’m The D, Vic.”
He laughs. “It’s crazy, huh? It’s almost an exact match to your scent.”
I shake my head and hold the bottle up. “No, Vic. I am the D. This is my best friend’s company. This scent is mine, or what she interpreted my scent to be. The D is for Daria.”
“Wait, are you serious?”
“Yeah. Quinn is my best friend,” I tell him with a laugh. “Which is probably even crazier.”
“Actually, that explains a lot.” He takes the bottle from my hand and sets it on the coffee table. “You’ve been my haven for a long time now.” His palms rest on either side of my face, and he drops his lips to mine. “You make me feel better,” he whispers before teasing his tongue against mine, soft and gentle and too sweet.
My heart trembles.
Saying goodbye is going to hurt like hell.