Chapter Twenty
Reid
There was a certain element to my job that I had once loved, but now dreaded.
As the woman stretched out across the chair next to me batted her long, fake eyelashes at me, I wasn’t the least bit tempted to see what she looked like moaning out my name while those lashes fluttered. Honestly, I’d be content if she just stopped talking altogether. She was pouring on the charm thickly, complimenting how gentle I was with my hands, telling me I had pretty eyes for such a big, powerful man.
In my experience, there were only a few ways people reacted during a session. This woman was one of the nervous ramblers who would not stop talking—or, in her case, relentlessly flirting—the entire session because the adrenaline and endorphins turned them into motormouths. My favorite were the ones who came in nervous but then promptly fell asleep as soon as the initial rush wore off.
Then there was a special third type that turned the stress hormone rush into another kind of hormone rush and wanted to fuck me after we were done. Those were the ones I was most dreading because I didn’t want to be that guy anymore. Unless I happened to be tattooing a certain feisty redhead that I couldn’t keep from invading my every waking thought.
“Now that you’re almost done, I was wondering if…” the woman in the chair’s voice had suddenly dropped lower as I finished up the last few details on her piece, wiping away the excess ink and setting my equipment on the nearby cart .
“Oh, don’t worry,” I cut her off, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. “I’ll send home a sheet of care instructions and some healing balm for you to use. As long as you keep it clean and dry so it can heal, you don’t need to worry about coming back in here again.”
“That’s so kind of you,” she cooed, placing her hand on my arm again and brushing her thumb across the edge of my wrist. And instead of my brain deciding it was horny and things perking up inside my jeans, I felt nothing. Not a damn fucking thing. “But I was hoping…”
A flash of movement outside the door to my private room had the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, and my eyes kept flitting between where my hands were smoothing the bandage over the fresh ink on this woman’s hip and trying to figure out who was out there.
The door was cracked open since we weren’t super busy this afternoon, but I also liked to leave the door partially open when I had women clients, so they didn’t feel trapped in a small room with a strange man.
“I’m booked out several months in advance right now, but if you had any other pieces in mind, Gray would be happy to get you settled out front. I usually recommend waiting at least two months so this one can have a chance to fully heal before you get another one.”
Her lips pursed and settled into a pout, which for a woman in her late thirties was not exactly a good look. Not that I had a thing against older women, but typically they were a little more mature than resorting to pouting when it was clear they were getting shot down.
“Oh, I definitely will,” she replied, reaching out to press her hand against my chest as I cupped her elbow and helped her sit upright. “I really liked the feel of your hands on me.”
Sometimes being in one position for a few hours and the letdown of happy chemicals tattoos usually sent roaring through your veins, made people a little unsteady, but as her hand crept up my shirt and settled on the side of my neck, it was clear she wasn’t trying to steady herself.
Gently prying her fingers away from my skin, I squeezed her hand and gently settled it back on her leg.
“If my schedule is too full to fit you in, I also have several other artists on staff who are just as talented, if not more so than I am. Gray can set you up with an appointment if you feel like their style fits what you need better. We each have a portfolio available at the desk for clients to look at.”
She grinned, biting her lip, but it only smeared her bright pink lipstick across the bottom of her teeth. Objectively, she was an attractive woman, and under other circumstances, I would have been encouraging her advances, but I didn’t want that anymore.
“I appreciate that, Reid. But I have very specific tastes, and you fit them very, very well. I’m more than happy to wait for you. I enjoy the prolonged satisfaction of having to wait to get what I want.”
Taking a deep breath, I stepped back, busying myself with getting my equipment sorted and disassembled so I could get it sanitized before my next client. I was hoping I could spend my hour break hunting down the woman who’d been on my mind all last night while I tried to get the payroll under control so I could be free for the weekend after Valentine’s.
“That works. Like I said, Gray can get you booked when you check out. But you shouldn’t need to see me again until our next consult as long as you follow your care instructions.”
When I turned back around, her clothing was re-situated, and she was zipping up her coat…with her eyes focused squarely on my ass. I wanted to be flattered, I really did, but it also had me questioning all my life choices over the last decade. I’d created this impression of myself for the world, and unfortunately, I was now having to deal with the consequences.
“It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Hard ing,” she purred, standing in front of me and pressing a piece of paper into my palm. I clenched it into my fist as I watched her leave through the partially open door, stopping short when she saw the woman leaning against the opposite wall before she turned and headed toward the reception area.
Hazel’s expressive eyes flashed to mine, her cheeks turning an enticing shade of pink as we stared at each other, but when her lip quivered and she looked away, I knew she’d been standing there long enough to hear what was going on with my flirty client. Fuck.
Pulling off the apron I wore when I worked, I tossed it toward the chair, dropping the crumpled paper in my wastebasket as I headed in the only direction my heart wanted to go right now. When I reached the doorway, I noticed how tightly Hazel’s fingers were clenched in the material of her coat and knew I needed to do some damage control.
“Hey, kitten. Why didn’t you tell me you’d be coming over? Got another project for us to work on?”
She shook her head, stepping away when I held my hand out toward her.
“No. No more projects.”
Frowning, I stepped forward again, grasping her fingers and trying to tug her inside my room. “Let’s talk.”
“Not in there,” she whispered, pulling free and balling her hands into fists.
“The new couch in my office hasn’t been unwrapped yet, but if you don’t mind waiting a few minutes, I can get all the plastic wrap off. They just delivered it this morning.”
“Can we…” she trailed off, clearing her throat. “Can we go sit in the break room or something? I can’t say this in your office.”
Frowning, I watched her expressions shift from anxious to disappointment to sadness and I wasn’t sure why the happy sarcastic girl she’d been around me for the last week was suddenly absent. She’d seen women hit on me before, and if she’d been out in the hallway long enough, she’d surely have heard that I wasn’t encouraging it and kept things strictly professional.
Not that I needed to explain myself to her, but I wanted to.
“Or I can just go home, but…” she sniffed and reached up to wipe the corner of her eye .
Deciding I couldn’t just stand here and watch her try to hold back her emotions, I stepped forward and grabbed her hand, guiding her down the hallway to the break room and ushering her inside. After flicking on the light, I locked the door behind me just in case we were interrupted, but since Gray and Priscilla were the only ones in the building, and I knew they both had appointments, it shouldn’t be a problem.
“What’s going on, Haz?” I asked, pulling her into my chest and wrapping my arms around her. The top of her head fit neatly underneath my chin, and I turned my face, resting my cheek on the top of her head. But my heart sank when she didn’t hug me back, her body tensing after a few moments in my embrace.
When I reluctantly released her, she took a step away, casting a nervous glance at the futon and then back at me, before she took a purposeful step toward the small table at the side of the room.
“We need to talk.”
Famous last words. Hearing a woman say that to you was never a good thing. It either meant she was about to break things off, or she thought she might be pregnant. And unless someone could magically get pregnant while not having sex, Hazel was about to tell me something I didn’t want to hear.
Joining her across the table, I tried to gauge her mood, but the vulnerability she’d been displaying before we came in here was gone. It was replaced with determination. And I hated that my girl had decided to use her newfound confidence on something I would not like.
“The floor is yours. What’s up?”
Her jaw clenched, and I fought the urge to reach out and rub the tension out of her hands that were balled in her lap so tightly her knuckles were white.
“I don’t think I can keep doing this,” she whispered, looking away from me. “If things go how I’d like them to, then I might be dating someone for real after the party. The lines between us have gotten so blurred that it feels like I’m cheating on him.”
Oh, sweet girl. It made my guilt flare, feeling like I’d let things get too far with Seven and my feelings getting mixed up and confusing both of us. I opened my mouth to confess what I’d done when I saw how conflicted she was, but that wasn’t what came out.
“Then I guess we’ve got the next few days to set up pictures for every commission you have on your waiting list.”
She shook her head, still not looking at me. “Reid, seriously. That’s too much. I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking. And I’m not taking no for an answer. You’d better figure out a schedule and a shot list, because we don’t have a lot of time. I can move around clients if you need me to. Just tell me when you need me, and I’ll make it happen.”
“Okay, I haven’t wanted to bring it up before now,” she stuttered nervously, flexing her fingers under the table. I hated I knew all her tells; she was really freaking herself out about this situation I’d put her in. “Because I don’t want to make things weird, but I feel like I should pay you for all the help you’ve given me.”
I was the one who’d made things weird between us by not being honest, but this was enough.
“Haz, no. You don’t need to pay me, I volunteered. And considering some things that have happened, I am not taking a dime from you.”
“But I’ve been able to get the illustrations done so much faster since I’m not wasting time looking for source images—”
“Porn. Just say you’re looking at porn, Haz,” I tried to joke, and I got a smile out of it, but she still wasn’t cracking.
“It’s not all porn.”
“I didn’t say looking at porn was bad. I’m kind of curious what other things you’ve watched for research. ” And I wanted to watch them with her, preferably with no clothing on and in my bed.
“Focus, Reid. Please don’t change the subject to distract me. How does ten percent of what I’ve made so far sound?”
“Sounds pretty terrible,” I replied, crossing my arms over my chest. There was no way I was taking anything from her. She’d earned that money with her own talents; I was just her live action doll to move how she wanted. Only she’d discovered I wasn’t smooth down there like a Ken doll.
“Okay…I can do more. But ten percent of the one with your bike was $80, so…” she trailed off and I was a bit flabbergasted once I did the mental math on that equation.
“You got paid $800 to draw an illustration of people fucking?”
This girl—this woman I was quickly becoming obsessed with—still continued to surprise me. I was fucking proud of her for charging what she was worth. That was a hard lesson to learn for most people who worked in creative fields. I know it’d taken me a long time to charge clients what I knew my time and talents were worth.
“Well, they weren’t technically fucking yet in that one, but…” she trailed off, trying to fight off a smile as her eyes met mine, but then her expression suddenly hardened again.
“Haz,” I tried to interject, but she held up her hand.
“They’re custom, fully rendered illustrations, not coloring pages you break out the Crayolas for. And people pay you hundreds of dollars to draw on their skin with a needle. Why wouldn’t I get paid that much? Do you think I’m charging too much? Because I—”
But it was just the opposite. I didn’t think she was charging too much; I was impressed she knew how to leverage her talents to make exactly what she deserved.
“No, Haz. I admire the fuck out of your work ethic. You’re doing exactly what you should be doing. This is why I offered to help you, because I could see how much you want this.”
“I do,” she whispered. “But I…” There was that damn lip quiver again and my heart broke at the thought I caused this. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your help, but I’m taking up a lot of your time, and I know things have gotten a bit complicated the more time we spend together.”
“Nothing we have done is complicated, Haz. And don’t you, for one fucking second, think that I am not exactly where I want to be when I spend time with you—”
She sniffed again, wiping at her cheek. My throat felt tight as a tear slipped free. Balling my hands into my lap, I resisted reaching out to haul her into my lap and kiss away those tears. When Charley had begged me to be bachelor number Seven, I never expected things between us getting this twisted up.
“But I can’t spend more time with you,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “It’s too hard. And I might be falling for the guy from the experiment, and I can’t risk that for someone I know will break my heart when he gets bored with me.”
Talk about a fucking knee to the balls. She didn’t even hesitate to confess she thought I’d break her heart. Not that she was afraid of me hurting her—which I hadn't set out to do—but that she knew I would break her heart. Like it was a foregone conclusion for me to do it.
“Is that how you really feel about me? That it’s inevitable I break your heart if things were to go further between us?”
She nodded, and I took in a sharp breath, wondering why I even fucking bothered. Because now I had a pretty good fucking idea how the reveal would go in a few days. She would find out Seven was me, and she’d shut me out like she was shutting me out now.
“I’m sorry. But I can’t let myself fall further into this fantasy that you might actually want me like I…”
She stood from the table and my hand shot out, instinctually grasping her wrist. “Sometimes how people really feel might surprise you.”
“And sometimes it’s not worth the risk,” she whispered, turning her wrist to pull free, and I immediately released her, not wanting to force her to be here if she didn’t want to be.
Leaning forward, I dropped my head into my hands, realizing how epically I’d managed to fuck things up in a week and a half. If I could rewind time, I’d…
Fuck that.
If I could rewind time, I’d have followed her into that bathroom before the fucking experiment even started and shoved that chewed up pencil into her hand and told her she could keep the penis. And the man attached to it, because I didn’t like the idea of her risking her heart on a stranger, even if I was the stranger on the other side of the wall.