7. Ember
EMBER
The first week at the new location passes relatively smoothly and successfully. There are a few glitches, but nothing that isn’t easily remedied. Gage and Kai stop by a couple of times, and both of them seem pleased with how things are going.
I used some petty cash to buy a couple of plants from a shop around the corner. The fern in the waiting area and the dish of succulents on the reception counter make me feel more at home here.
The only drawbacks are my daily commute, which is long and continually unpredictable, and the close quarters at the shop, which provide as much temptation as I was afraid they would.
Though I’m careful to watch where I’m going and not end up in the hallway at the same time as any of the guys again, I still often find myself shoulder-to-shoulder—or rather, shoulder-to-chest—with them at the reception desk, in the lounge, or in doorways.
Even when all of them are at their stations working, I hear Griffin singing, catch the scent of Zeb’s cologne, and feel like I have a front row seat to the furrow of Frank’s brow as he focuses on his work.
I’m more aware than ever of how each of them smells, how they move, and how they respond to each other and to me. When there’s a rare collective break from the buzz of the tattoo machines, I swear I can hear the three of them breathing.
It’s bliss and torture all at the same time.
Along with the scheduled appointments, we get inquiries every day from people who come in after seeing our sign outside. One of those walk-ins, a woman around Zeb and Frank’s age, gets lucky when she arrives right after Frank has a cancellation.
“Our artists are typically booked a few weeks in advance, but we’ve just had an unexpected opening,” I tell her when she inquires about getting a small tattoo.
I gesture for Frank to come over. “Would you like to talk with the artist about what you’re looking for?” As he approaches, the woman watches, twirling a strand of long dark hair around one of her fingers and tapping shiny red fingernails on the counter with her other hand.
As I make introductions—her name is Jennifer—the woman not only shakes Frank’s hand, but also gives his bicep a quick squeeze. “Oh, sorry,” she says with a giggle. “I just couldn’t resist. I came in today to commemorate my divorce, and I guess I’m feeling a little bit reckless.”
Frank ignores both her physical contact and her apology. “What’re you looking for?”
“Ooh, such a deep voice,” the woman purrs. “Well, I was thinking of a bird maybe, and the word free, because I am feeling very, very free.”
“Any particular type of bird, or typeface?” His response is totally matter of fact, as if she weren’t practically throwing herself at him.
As they talk, I try to busy myself on my laptop for a distraction, because the contrast between the woman’s flirtations and Frank’s stoic responses is cracking me up.
Finally, they go to his station, where he does a quick sketch and then gets to work. The woman talks throughout the process, even though Frank says very little in return. When the tattoo, which is on her back shoulder, is complete, he holds up a mirror, and Jennifer gushes about it.
She’s so excited about it, she gives Frank a big hug, which, by the look on his face, takes him completely by surprise, and not in a good way.
Then Jennifer goes around to Zeb and Griffin and shows off her new tattoo to each of them. When she comes over to me, I ask if I can take a photo of it for our social media, and she readily agrees. After Frank does the aftercare and gives her instructions for what to do at home, Jennifer waves to all three of the men and promises she’ll be back soon.
“We’re talking about going to Diamond Hearts to celebrate our first week here.” Leaning across the counter of the reception desk, Griffin gestures to the other two men with a tip of his head before looking back at me. “Will you come?”
At first, an instant and automatic yes seems like a no-brainer. Would I like to go for drinks at the fancy bar down the street with the three hottest men I know? Absolutely! But drinking with them also seems fraught with danger. I could easily get tipsy and ruin all my good intentions where they’re concerned.
We’ve been out together before, not just the four of us, but with a larger group from the main location. But now I’m their manager, and I need to keep things professional.
Not that it’s a real problem; I still think Lexy’s imagining their interest in me. But it would be very embarrassing, not to mention make things awkward at work, if I forgot myself and started flirting.
I am the manager, however, and it’s probably good business as well as good manners to say yes. So I smile at him. “That sounds nice.”
“Great.” The smile he flashes me makes me instantly second-guess my decision; it’s even more wicked than his usual ones. “Are you ready to start locking up?”
“Yes, I’ve closed everything out for the day.” I started the end-of-day procedure a few minutes ago, so all that’s left is to power down my devices, put my tablet in my purse, and set the alarm as we go out.
The bar is just a block away, making it an easy walk even though the weather is chilly. Temperatures drop quickly here after the sun goes down, at least in the wintertime. Zeb holds the door for me when we get there, and we all go in.
It’s an upscale bar, but not unwelcoming. The atmosphere is quiet and friendly, definitely not the place for noisy revelry. I hope it helps me keep my emotional distance when I’m surrounded by the three of them.
Eyes follow us as we cross the room to a leather-upholstered booth. I’m very aware of the picture we present, little me with three huge men in tow. Unbidden, my mind veers toward Lexy and Ava, and what it’s like when they go places with their men.
My skin heats, and I’m thankful for the low lighting. Me with these men can never happen, for so many reasons, and for the sake of my future, I need to keep a grip on myself.
Of course, the men let me sit down first, which means I’m trapped after Frank slides in next to me, Griffin and Zeb opposite us. Both of them look at Frank like he’s done something wrong, which confuses me, but I let it go. With the three of them sharing a house, they’ll have all sorts of interpersonal dynamics that don’t make sense to others.
“What’ll you have?” Zeb asks me. Griffin turns his head to glare at him, and I feel a tremor of alarm.
The sudden tension I’m sensing can’t possibly be about me. Can it?
No. Lexy can’t be right, because if she is, my life is going to become completely unmanageable.
“Let me look at the menu,” I say, keeping my tone light. “And I’ll be buying my own drinks, but thank you.”
“Come on, Ember,” Griffin says. “We can’t buy you a drink?”
“It’s sweet of you to offer, really?—”
“Sweet,” Griffin snorts, sounding more out of sorts than his personality usually allows.
“—but it’s not necessary.”
“Not necessary,” Zeb repeats to Griffin, with an undertone that signals he means more than just the words.
“And what would you know about it?” Griffin fires back.
“More than you.” Zeb sounds both surly and smug.
Maybe this isn’t about me, but it sure feels like it is, and I’m suddenly very uncomfortable. “Actually, I’m going to head home,” I say, closing my menu. “I just remembered the buses on this route don’t run at night, and I don’t want to miss the last one. You all have a good time.”
Frank stands to let me out. His expression is even sterner than usual, and it seems to be aimed at both Griffin and Zeb. “See you tomorrow,” I say, eager to escape the storm clouds gathering around the men.
“Where’s the nearest bus stop?” Frank asks. “You should let us walk you. Or we could give you a lift.”
His tone is neutral, nothing like Griffin’s constant flirtiness, but I still feel like there’s more to what he’s saying. Maybe spending all day with just the three of them is making me paranoid.
“The bus stop is actually right outside,” I tell him. “I appreciate it, but I’m fine, really.” I smile at him, and at Griffin and Zeb—both of whom wear somewhat stony expressions—and make for the door.
I’m in luck; the right bus pulls up just as I leave the bar, and I hurry to catch it, thankful that I won’t have to wait in the cold and worry about whether any of the men are going to come out and check on me or ask me again about them giving me a ride.
Things have been fine at work, as far as I’ve noticed, but as soon as we stepped into the bar, the energy between the three of them shifted in a very weird way. Maybe they’re having some kind of disagreement and I just happened to get caught in the center of it, but something tells me it goes deeper than that.