“You’re really quiet, sweetheart.Are you staying with me?”He wanted to pull her close and wrap his arms around her.It was fucked up for sure, but it felt right that she was with him.
“I’m sorry.It’s just…” She looked at him and he could see her eyes shining with tears.“I’ve wanted to do this for so many years and was scared you were going to say no.”
“I’m not going to say no.Not yet.Unless you want some dumb-ass Tweety Bird tattoo.”She let out a small laugh, just as he’d hoped.“But I do need to know what you were thinking.See if it works with what you have going on back there.The scars won’t totally disappear, but the tattoo will certainly trick the eye.”
“I don’t have anything too concrete,” she said, “because I want it to work with the scars and I didn’t know what you could do.But I want it to echo my mantra:The strongest steel is forged in the hottest fire.Steel, a knife, did this to me, but somehow I survived and will get through it.I was imagining the words in a strong script and some sort of sword being formed in flames.I hoped the flames could cover up the majority of my back.Oh, and I know swords can be kind of butch looking, but I want it to be feminine.”
“Great theme.Strong and powerful.I’m assuming color, then.”
“Yes.I…” Harper paused, biting her lip and looking back to the floor.
He let go of one of her hands.He touched her chin—he couldn’t resist—he wanted to look at her, needed toseeher.She flinched at the contact, and he pulled his hand away.
“You what?”he asked, mentally kicking himself for scaring her.
Her voice wobbled, and he knew tears were a moment away.“I want it to be so amazing that no one even tries to figure out what the scars are.”
Trent reached over the counter and grabbed a tissue box, putting it next to her.A full-back piece, his favorite kind of tattoo.Nothing too concrete from the client, meaning he could just let his creative juices flow.That was the sweet spot where he did his best work.
“It just so happens that amazing tattoos are my specialty, so no worries there.But a full-back piece is going to take quite the commitment on your part.I can go as long as you can, but creativity starts to get stifled after four or five hours.I’d suggest three- to four-hour blocks.Maybe less to begin with.Just being on the bed is going to be tough for you at first.How quickly do you want it done?”
Holy shit.Her smile was breathtaking.Slightly teary, but beautiful.It took over her entire face.Her eyes seemed closer to emerald now, and they sparkled.He watched as she quietly collected herself.She straightened her shoulders, shook her head until her hair fell down her back as she blew out a long breath.
“Is yesterday too soon?”
Laughing, he took hold of her hands again, trying not to take it personally when she flinched.“If only.This may take up to five or six sessions, depending on how long you can lie on the bed, and we’ll have to space them out, ideally, to every couple of weeks.You’ll need enough time between sessions to heal.Why don’t I draw something up for you over the next day or so?I’ll do up some design options and a rough price for you.Can you come in to take a look at it on say, Thursday, and then we’ll figure out where to go from there?”
“Yes.I don’t know what to say.Thank you seems so inadequate.”
“Wait until it’s done, Harper.You can thank me later.But you’re going to hate me to start with.”
Chapter Two
It was no fucking use.After one last toss and turn, sleep was done for the night.Trent threw back the covers and glanced at the clock.It was only seven, hours before his internal alarm usually went off.
He sat up, adjusted his early morning wood, and dragged both hands through his hair.
Only five hours had passed since he’d put Harper in a cab at his insistence, yet she was the reason he was up so early… up on both counts.Visions of the two of them wrapped up in crisp white bedsheets and nothing else—all that long dark hair falling across his chest—had filled his dreams.He needed to stop thinking about that right now before he got a serious case of blue balls.
Pulling on a pair of ancient sweatpants, Trent wandered into his kitchen and pulled down the coffee and filters.Seemed like everyone else had those one-cup machines that took those coffee-filled plastic things, but it just seemed wasteful to him.You only ended up with half a cup after all that plastic, and at least his old-school coffee filter could be recycled.
As the coffee started to brew, he grabbed his art supplies and his laptop from the shelf in the living room and put them on the bistro table in the kitchen.
He’d started to visualize Harper’s tattoo the moment she started to talk about it.It was in his mind and wouldn’t let him sleep until he sketched it out.Some of his best artwork started out that way, a fully formed vision in his mind that required every ounce of concentration for him to successfully pour it out onto paper.The process had been the bane of his teenage years when his talent was still forming and he wasn’t yet capable of rendering the kaleidoscope of images that crashed into his mind.It was still a surprise to him that he could capture the full extent of his imagination now and draw it, whether on a human body or a piece of paper.
The design would be bold and bright.Almost three-dimensional.There’d be plenty of room to add symbols and layers of hidden meanings.It was a strong theme and an opportunity to do something really original.She was right that a sword could be very masculine, but if he tattooed the flames with smokelike images of flowers and scripted some soft, flowing calligraphy, the effect would definitely be softened.
Hearing the final bubbling of the coffeepot, he poured himself a large steaming mug.There was seriously nothing better than the first gulp of coffee in the morning.Well, unless you included waking up to a sweet and sexy woman in your arms.That really was the perfect way to start the day.
He sat down in his chair, visualized Harper’s beautiful features, and picked up his pen.
***
Entrancing?No.Captivating?That wasn’t quite it.What kind of an English teacher couldn’t come up with a word to describe Trent’s eyes?They were, what?Oh.Spellbinding.Now there was a good word.
An irate voice pierced Harper’s reverie.“Excuse me, miss.I said I’d like a large decaf to go.”
With a quick apology, Harper poured the order.She took the customer’s bill and counted out the change.The woman gathered it quickly without leaving a tip, not that Harper deserved one.
