Chapter Nine
Hidden Ink
Damien
There are moments in life when you realize you’ve made a mistake. Sometimes it’s a big mistake. Sometimes it’s small. And sometimes the mistake is simply forgetting to lock the damn door.
I’m halfway through pulling my t-shirt over my head when the door to the back room swings open.
“Skye said the extra paper towels were...” Quinn stops mid-sentence and I fucking freeze.
For a full two seconds neither of us moves. Which would be fine if I wasn’t standing in the middle of the supply room shirtless. Completely. Shirtless.
“Uh,” she says.
My brain, which normally functions like a well-organized spreadsheet, suddenly forgets how to process basic information.
“Oh,” I say intelligently.
Brilliant response. Ten out of ten.
She blinks and I blink. Somewhere behind us, the faint buzz of tattoo machines continues like nothing weird is happening. Except something very weird is happening.
Because Quinn Thomas is staring at my chest like she’s just discovered a new species of animal. Which technically isn’t wrong.
Most people in town have no idea I’m tattooed.
The art across my skin isn’t visible when I’m wearing clothes.
But right now? Right now, it’s very visible.
The black and gray ink across my chest and ribs tells a story most people never see.
A phoenix spreads its wings across my sternum, flames curling down my ribs.
Lines of intricate geometric work run along my sides, disappearing beneath the waistband of my jeans.
And my back? That’s an entire mural. But luckily she can’t see that part at the moment. And yet, her eyes are wide, like she’s trying to process the fact that the quiet accountant apparently moonlights as a walking art exhibit.
“Paper towels,” she says again weakly.
“Right.”
I grab my shirt off the counter behind me and pull it over my head as quickly as possible. Smooth. Very fucking smooth.
When I look back at her, she’s still standing in the doorway holding the edge of the frame like she’s not sure if she should stay or run.
“Sorry,” she says quickly.
“You didn’t know.”
“Skye said they were in here.”
“They are.” I gesture vaguely toward the shelves behind me.
She steps inside slowly and suddenly the tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife. Or maybe that’s just my imagination.
Quinn grabs a roll of paper towels from the shelf but doesn’t immediately leave.
Instead, she turns back toward me and her eyes drop to my chest again.
Her gaze traces the lines of ink across my skin before she catches herself and looks away, cheeks just a hint pinker than before.
When her eyes meet mine again, there’s a flicker of something .
.. curiosity, maybe, or something warmer. “You’re ... tattooed.”
Understatement of the year. “A little.”
“A little?” she repeats, her brows arched.
I shrug. “It’s a family business.”
Her gaze drifts downward again before she catches herself and looks away. “I didn’t know.”
“Most people don’t.”
“Why?”
I lean against the counter. “Because I wear shirts.”
That earns me a laugh. Good. Humor helps. There’s a strange energy hanging between us now. Like we both suddenly realized something new about each other and neither of us knows what to do with that information.
“They’re really beautiful,” she says quietly.
I blink, the information not filtering through correctly. “What?”
“Your tattoos.” She gestures vaguely toward my chest. “The detail is incredible.”
I glance down automatically. I’ve had these pieces for a few years now. Long enough that I forget they exist most of the time.
“Thanks.”
“Did Laine do them?”
“Some of them.”
“Some?”
“Alistair did the phoenix.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “That must have taken forever.”
“About thirty hours total.”
“Wow.” She looks impressed. Which is not a reaction I’m used to getting about the tattoos.
Most people just assume I’m trying to look tough. The truth is, these pieces mean something. Every line. Every shadow. Every flame. They tell the story of a kid who spent years feeling small and the man who decided he wasn’t going to stay that way.
“You don’t seem like the tattoo type,” she says.
I raise an eyebrow. “What’s the tattoo type?”
“I don’t know.”
“Dangerous?”
“Maybe.”
“I do accounting.”
“I know.”
“That’s not very dangerous.”
She smiles. “Hidden depths.”
“Something like that.”
The silence returns but this one feels different. More aware. Like we’re both suddenly conscious of the fact that we’re alone in a small room together. And that five minutes ago she saw more of me than most people ever do.
“So,” she says finally.
“So.”
“You’ve been hiding this the whole time?”
“I wouldn’t call it hiding.”
“You definitely hid it.” She smiles as she ribs at me.
“I just didn’t advertise it.”
“Same thing.”
I chuckle softly and she shifts her weight slightly. “You look different.”
“How?”
“Stronger.” That word hits somewhere deep in my chest because she has no idea how accurate it is. Or how long it took to get here.
“People change,” I say.
She nods slowly. “Yeah.”
For a moment neither of us speaks. Then voices drift in from the shop. Skye shouting something about missing paper towels and Quinn lifts the roll in her hand.
“Mission accomplished.”
“Heroic.”
She turns toward the door before she stops and looks back at me.
“You know,” she says thoughtfully.
“What?”
“I think this is the first time I’ve ever surprised you.”
I tilt my head. “Why do you think that?”
“Because you usually look like you already know everything that’s going to happen.”
“I’m good at predicting patterns.”
“Well,” she says with a small smile, “you definitely didn’t predict me walking in just now.”
“No.”
“I win.”
“You absolutely win.”
She laughs softly and pushes the door open. The noise of the shop floods back into the room instantly.
Before she steps out completely, she glances over her shoulder one more time. “Hidden ink,” she says before she disappears into the main shop.
I stand there for a second longer staring at the door she just walked through. My brain is still trying to catch up with what just happened. Because the truth is, seeing Quinn look at me like that—surprised, curious, and interested? Did something strange to my chest.
Like a door I didn’t know existed just cracked open and now I can’t stop wondering what might happen if it ever swings all the way open.