29. Shane
Chapter 29
Shane
If I thought we were going to lie in bed all day, I’d thought wrong. Because the minute Archer’s eyes opened, he looked up at me and smiled, saying, “Do you want to get a tattoo today?”
He was impossible to say no to. So I showered and dressed, and Archer made us coffee and rummaged in my fridge for something to eat.
“I don’t see anything I want.” Archer pouted at me.
“We can go shopping later and stock my cupboards with all your favorite things,” I promised. Archer smiled at me over top of his coffee cup.
“Careful, you might spoil me.”
“You’re worth spoiling.”
He didn’t have a response to that.
“The fact remains that I don’t want to tattoo you on an empty stomach.”
“Then we’ll go for breakfast. I’ll take you to Bennett’s.”
Archer smiled at me again. “Ethan’s probably sick of you by now,” he teased.
“He may be sick of me, but Taylor makes a mean waffle.”
Archer retrieved his sketchbook and drained the rest of his coffee in a couple big swallows. The way his throat bobbed when he swallowed was obscene and I was tempted to drag him back to bed to have my wicked way with him again, but his enthusiasm about the tattoo was contagious.
We were just sitting down in a booth at Bennett’s when I realized that this was the first time we’d been out together as a couple. Our other rendezvous had been secret. Casual hookups and stolen moments. I reached across the table and tangled my fingers in Archer’s.
“This is our first official date, you know.” Archer’s face lit up at my words. He acted like me declaring it was a date was the single best thing he’d ever heard. “I never should have agreed to hide us from your brother. We could have done this so much sooner.”
He squeezed my hand. “I think things will work out the way they’re meant to. I’m not sad that we had that time to ourselves. It was kind of nice to feel like I had something that was just for me, you know.”
“I know.” I squeezed his hand back. Hiding from everyone, seeing Archer on the sly, had been fun. I liked the way that it felt when we were together. Like we existed in a bubble. But it was the fate of a bubble to pop eventually, and that’s what had happened the night before. Our bubble finally burst.
Ethan appeared with a pot of coffee. “Good morning. Coffee?”
“Please.”
Ethan filled two cups. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Two waffle stacks.”
“Bacon or sausage?”
“One of each,” Archer said. He caught my gaze and grinned at me. “So we can trade.”
Ethan promised to be back with our food in a few minutes.
“Why have I not ever been in here before?” Archer asked, looking around at the decor. The diner was brightly decorated in chrome and red. A wall of photographs highlighted the journey of the Bennett family through the years. Ethan’s family had run the diner before him. Then Ethan and Sarah, briefly. And the rest of the pictures were Ethan and his kids. The town had watched Jonah, Colby, and Taylor grow up here.
“We’re here now, that’s all that matters.”
Archer spied the wall of photographs. “Is that like the celebrity wall or something? Do they get famous people here?” He stirred a couple sugars into his coffee.
“Those are pictures of Ethan and his kids. Taylor still works here in the back as a cook, but Jonah went on to become a teacher at the high school and Colby is the manager of a gym here in town.”
“You and Ethan must be close.”
“I’ve been to his house a few times for what he calls ‘fire night.’”
“Fire night?”
“It’s exactly what it sounds like. Food, a fire, and music.” I further satisfied Archer’s curiosity by telling tales of Ethan Bennett and his infamous fire nights. I hadn’t been to one in a while because life tended to get in the way, but now that I was taking a less active role at the bar, I hoped to change that.
Ethan arrived with the waffles and told us to enjoy our breakfast before disappearing to deal with more tables.
“This place is busy.” Archer looked around. “Is it always like this?”
“Taylor’s a good cook.” Using my fork, I sliced into the waffle stack. Cutting out a small triangle, I speared it and stuffed it in my mouth.
Archer did the same, but his eyes rolled back and he moaned. “Holy fuck,” he said around a mouthful of waffle. “These are delicious.”
Archer tucked in like waffles were going extinct, and they might the way he devoured them.
Over breakfast, we talked about surface shit. Archer walked me through the ideas he had for my tattoo once more. By the time we were finished eating, I was ready for a nap. I paid for breakfast and left a nice tip, and then we went back to Archer’s space above the bar. The parking lot was deserted, which I expected this early in the day, but I still hoped to see Cyrus waiting for us. He owed Archer an apology.
“Stop frowning,” Archer said as he thrust his key into the lock and twisted. “Today is a great day for a tattoo.”
“Says the one not getting a tattoo.” I followed him inside and up the stairs.
“I could tattoo myself. It’s nothing I haven’t done before. The transformer tattoo on my left forearm was one I did myself.”
“No shit?”
“No shit. The eighties had the best cartoons.” Archer opened the door to his apartment and strode inside, making a beeline for his tattoo station. “Take your shirt off. I need to get an idea of what I’m working with.”
He pointed to a stool he wanted me to sit on, and like a good customer, I obeyed. I didn’t miss the way Archer’s gaze lingered when I pulled my shirt off and tossed it over to the couch.
He was all business, though. Completely professional as he mapped out where the image would fit best.
“I could freehand the artwork on you.”
Archer seemed to be talking to himself, so I stayed quiet. I was happy to go with the flow and let him work his magic.
“Yeah, I think I’ll freehand it.” He got up and snapped on a pair of black gloves. He rummaged around in his cabinet and returned with a razor.
“I do not have back hair.”
“Hush. I need a pristine surface.”
Archer’s touch was gentle and, unfortunately, still completely professional. The area he wanted to ink was my right shoulder. My right forearm had some stunning floral work, so continuing that motif on my right shoulder felt natural. The robot was different, but I loved the idea of having something that meant so much to Archer on my body. It made me feel like he was claiming me.
He had me move my arm around to make sure the tattoo wouldn’t do anything weird when I moved my body. He made some small adjustments and afterward waved me over to the chair.
“Make yourself comfortable. I have to get everything prepped.”
Flopping down, I stretched out with my chest pressed against the back of the chair and watched him. Archer at work was quietly intense, but also peaceful. It was like the stress fell away the longer he worked. He held himself looser, his shoulders relaxed, and he smiled more. Archer at work was a happy Archer, and I was content to lie there and be his admirer. Lying on the couch watching him work could be my new hobby were it not for the fact that he would kick me out after ten minutes.
Every so often, Archer would glance up and catch me looking at him. We’d share a smile, and he’d get back to prepping his machine.
“This is the nicest morning I’ve had in a long time,” I told him. Archer looked up and grinned at me.
“You’re going to wish you didn’t say that soon enough when I’m doing the line work on this.”
“I can handle it.” Closing my eyes, I rested my head and let myself drift away. Getting up with Archer had made the morning bearable, but I still disliked the early hour. I wasn’t sure how much longer it was before his voice roused me.
“Hey, sleepyhead. You with me?”
I opened my eyes, blinking at Archer who had appeared next to me with his rolling tray covered in little pots of ink and paper towels.
“I’m with you. ”
His smile was blinding. “This is going to hurt you more than it hurts me.”
“Will you kiss it better after?”
“Uh, I’m going to go with no, but I’ll kiss something else.” Archer waggled his eyebrows at me, then slid in closer. The machine buzzed to life and the first brush of needles against skin made me flinch.
Archer stopped the machine. “If you sit still, I’ll give you a sucker when you’re done.” He pointed to a jar on the counter that was filled with suckers.
“For real? You give people suckers?”
“If kids get them after the doctor, why can’t adults have them after a tattoo? Now, sit still. This will only hurt a little.”
He was a liar. It hurt a lot. Tattoos felt like being stabbed with acid, over and over again. I wasn’t much of a talker when I was getting ink, and that was no different with Archer working on me. He was content to sit and concentrate on what he was doing and I was happy to sit there and concentrate on staying still. After what felt like forever, he moved on from line work to fill in the colors. Color went faster, but it was no less painful.
“You’re doing so good,” Archer praised me out of nowhere. “But you’re looking pale. Do you need a break?”
“How much longer?”
He wiped a paper towel over the piece, sopping up blood and ink. “Probably an hour.”
“Then we push through.” I grit my teeth. “I want my sucker.”
Archer’s laugh was joined by the buzzing of the tattoo machine. I’d never been the type to fall asleep on the chair—pain wasn’t my kink—but I didn’t hate having Archer’s focus on me. He was intense to begin with, but when I was in his chair, it was a whole new level. If my shoulder didn’t hurt so bad, my dick definitely would’ve been hard.
The machine stilled and Archer gently wiped the area down. “Okay, want to have a look?”
“Hell, yes.” My body creaked and groaned when I climbed off the chair. All in all, it hadn’t taken too long for Archer to work his magic, but when you spent a few hours concentrating on not moving, doing the opposite of that took a herculean effort.
Archer ushered me over to the full-length mirror he had on the outside of the bathroom door. He grabbed a hand-held mirror and moved it around to reflect the image where I could see it.
“What do you think?”
The tattoo turned out better than I’d thought it would. Vivid sunflowers surrounded the little 80s movie-inspired robot.
“I shaded him to match your eyes. Well, as close as I could get.”
I turned and swept Archer into my arms. “I love you. It’s perfect.”
He melted against me. “Did you want your sucker now?”
“I—”
A knock at the door stopped me dead. “I guess I’ll take a raincheck.”
Archer padded over to his door and yanked it open. Cyrus stood on the other side, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Vivian let me up. I don’t have a lot of time before my shift starts and my kitchen is—that doesn’t matter. Can I come in?”
Archer stepped aside and let Cyrus through. He spotted me standing there, shirtless. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Just a tattoo, Cyrus.” I didn’t want to show him, but I did anyway. I wanted him and Archer to make up as much as I wanted to smooth things over between the two of us .
“Come have a look,” I said, extending the olive branch, hoping like hell that he’d take it.