Chapter 5 #2
I give Kyle shit because he tried robbing Beach Brew a few months ago.
And the idiot that I am decided to give him a job.
Call it a bleeding heart, but when he apologized to me, he started crying and told me his mom didn’t make enough money to feed their family and get her medication.
Was it the smartest idea to hire a kid who tried to steal from us?
No. But it’s worked in my favor because he’s one of the hardest-working employees we’ve ever had.
He does everything without complaint, and I can’t tell if it’s because he’s trying to make up for what he did or if that’s just his work ethic in general, but either way, he’s gone above and beyond here at the shop.
Kyle is holding back a laugh, and Sage and Wren are watching the interaction with confusion.
“Let’s go, Beach Brew Crew,” I chant, and they all file out the door behind me like little ducklings following their mama.
The sweat under my armpits is a dead giveaway that I’m nervous, even though it’s only fifty-eight degrees out.
The ten steps it takes to get to the tattoo shop's front door are like walking to the guillotine.
But my eyes widen in surprise when we reach the storefront, and I finally have a full view of the inside of the tattoo shop.
Besides the fact that it’s packed full of people already, the space is almost reminiscent of the coffee shop.
The one thing that I notice right away is the dark green paint that wasn’t there when I peeked through the window the other week.
All the wainscoting on the lower third of the shop walls has a beautiful color of green that warms up the space while simultaneously giving it a moody look.
The tattoo chairs are a warm butterscotch color as well as the reception seating couches.
The reception desk looks custom-made from reclaimed wood, placed in a chevron pattern, and there are hanging plants and greenery all over.
It looks unlike any tattoo shop I’ve ever seen.
It’s beautiful and inviting.
All five of us file through the door, and multiple heads whip our way.
I feel like I have something in my teeth, but I know I don’t because I just looked in the mirror.
I have the urge to fidget where I stand, but instead, I push up the sleeves of my cream chunky knit sweater, so I don’t overheat.
Classic rock music is softly playing in the background, and everyone goes back to chatting a moment later.
There are all walks of life in here. I can spot a couple of the local surfers who come into our coffee shop, some harder-looking guys covered in tattoos, and even a priest is hanging around by the food that’s set up at the reception desk.
My group splits up, and I hear my daughter a moment later. “Mommy! Look! I got a tattoo,” Autumn yells and comes to a screeching halt in front of me.
My eyes widen, but when I look down at her arm, I can tell it’s a temporary tattoo because it’s a pink, sparkly unicorn.
“Wow, I love it,” I tell her, and she beams.
“My new friend, Preston, gave it to me.”
I nod my head and wonder who the hell Preston is and why is he giving my kid fake tattoos.
Okay, maybe I’m a little bit protective of my daughter. But as a single mom, I have to be. Stranger danger is still a foreign concept to Autumn, and I need to work on it with her.
“Grammy said I could,” Autumn explains. “Come on.”
She takes my hand and pulls me through the shop until we stop in front of a guy who is sitting at one of the stations with three other little girls around him. “These are my new friends, mommy,” Autumn says matter-of-factly.
I look at each girl, and their arms are full of glittery fake tattoos too.
The guy sitting with them has a buzz cut and two full sleeves of tattoos. He stands when he sees me. “You must be Autumn's mom, Penny. Briana said I could give her a fake tattoo. I can take it off if you want. I don’t want to overstep.”
“Um… no.” I shake my head. “It’s fine.”
He reaches his hand out, and I take it in mine. “My name’s Preston, and these are my nieces. I work here.”
His grin is lethal. I can tell right away this guy is a flirt. He’s seriously cute and has an edge about him that probably gets him any woman he wants.
Each one of the little girls, ages ranging from what I’m guessing is four to eight, says hi to me, and I say hi back with a smile.
“Can I play, mommy?” Autumn asks.
“Um…”
“Everything is locked up and, for the most part, not breakable in here. They should be okay.”
“Just be respectful. No running.”
All four girls giggle and take off toward the front of the shop, where I see them jump on the brand-new sofa. I cringe, but they settle in to show each other their tattoos.
“Thanks for giving her a tattoo. You didn’t have to do that,” I tell Preston.
“No worries.” He waves me off. “I have five nieces and a drawer full of tattoos just for when they come to visit. My sister’s slightly hate me for it, but at least they’re not real.”
“You can’t go wrong with glitter and unicorns.”
“And occasionally baby shark.”
I easily laugh at his comment and, from the corner of my eye, catch Declan talking to a beautiful brunette who is covered in piercings and tattoos, and another man covered in tattoos who sports an impressive beard.
The brunette’s aesthetic is goth meets Barbie, and she has on the most perfect shade of crimson red lipstick.
She throws her head back and laughs at something Declan says, and he smiles effortlessly at her.
My stomach dips, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m nervous or jealous.
“Do you know Declan?”
My attention is pulled back to Preston. “Uh… no. Not really.” I push a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ve met him twice, briefly. I work at the coffee shop next door.”
“I’ll definitely be coming by there before work.” His gaze flicks towards Declan and then back to me, and a devious smirk crosses his face. “So, Penny, do you have any tattoos?” He takes my wrist softly in his hand, inspecting my forearm.
“I don’t.”
His fingers linger over the translucent skin, but not a moment later, a large hand lands on Preston’s shoulder. “Preston…” Declan says as he moves in on our conversation.
Preston lets go of my arm. “Hey, boss. Just asking the lady if I could tattoo her.”
No, he wasn’t.
Declan growls. Yes, growls. And Preston throws his head back and laughs like he’s in on some kind of joke and we’re not.
“If anyone is going to be tattooing her, it’s going to be me,” Declan proclaims, and his tone sends a chill down my spine.
I ignore the way my body lights up from his words and say, “Um… you guys… I’m not getting a tattoo.” I look between the two men, giving them an incredulous look.
The man with the beard stands off to the side and bites back a smile. He’s just as good-looking as Preston and Declan, and his ice-blue eyes seem almost fake. They’re a little unnerving, to be honest.
“And who do we have here?” The brunette who was talking to Declan just moments ago sidles up next to us.
She looks me up and down, and for half a second, I think she’s checking me out…
sexually. But I shake the thought from my head because I saw the way she was looking at Declan, and it seemed like they were into each other.
Not that I care.
Preston is the first to speak. “This is Penny. She works at the coffee shop next door. I’m going to give her a tattoo.”
“No one is giving me a tattoo.”
“Don’t let either one of them tattoo you. Let me do it. Better yet, can I pierce you?” The look I saw on her face returns. Okay, maybe my gut was right. She’s checking me out.
“Stop flirting, Becca. You know how your girlfriend gets,” Declan says dryly.
She gives me a playful wink and says, “Fine. But you are seriously stunning. If I didn’t have a girlfriend, I would definitely take you out.”
I think I’m blushing because I can feel my cheeks heat. I’m not completely oblivious to the way I look, but hearing someone tell you you’re stunning is a compliment you can’t ignore. It doesn’t matter if it comes from a male or female.
“Um, thank you. I’m flattered. I’m Penny, by the way.” I stick out my hand to shake hers.
“Becca,” she says and smiles back at me.
The man with the beard reaches his hand out, too. “I’m Jude. We work here.” He nods to Becca.
Now it makes sense. These are Declan’s co-workers, or are they employees? I’m pretty sure Declan hand-picked these people out of a modeling catalog, though, because they’re all so… pretty.
I plant a warm smile on my face. “It’s nice to meet y–”
“Mommy, mommy. I have to go to the bathroom. My tummy hurts,” Autumn interrupts.
Declan’s hand gently lands on my shoulder, and my stomach flips at the contact. “The bathroom is straight back and to the right. Take her there.”
I give him an appreciative smile, grab Autumn’s hand, and turn to the others. “It was nice to meet you. Come stop by the shop sometime. I would love to see you again.”
My eyes meet Declan’s as I say the last part, and I turn to make a hasty exit towards the bathroom with Autumn in tow.
As we walk away, I can feel the heat of four sets of eyes on my back.
Just great.