“One thing though. I mentioned this to Meredith and—”
“You were a dick to her, weren’t you?”
“What, why would you…I mean—”
“I can always tell.” she tapped her temple with the crust of her sandwich. “There was a vibe this morning between you two. It was some kind of tension, so either you were a dick to her or you wanted to put your dick in her. I don’t need to know which one it is.”
I could feel my neck heat and scrambled to move off that subject. “Anyway, Meredith suggested I draw up some new stuff for the flash day rather than just using boring old designs.”
Roxy crumpled up her wrapper and tossed it towards the garbage can. It bounced off the rim and hit the floor. “Motherfucker.” She moved over to pick it up. “Do what you want, kid. But I approve every design, and they need to be good to go like ASAP. We need enough to start advertising today or tomorrow.”
“Shit, guess I’ll be pulling an all-nighter.”
Chapter Eight
Meredith
Luke twisted the lock on the front door with an ominous click. Based on how passionate he was about the whole flash tattoo idea, Roxy had agreed he could be the one to draw up the designs. That meant he was working late, which meant I was working late. Which placed us alone together in the shop for however long it took him to come up with around thirty designs he was happy with.
I had approximately ten trillion things to do to get this flash tattoo day off the ground. It needed to happen fast before the low reviews could further affect walk-in numbers. With that in mind, I had planned it for Saturday. As in this Saturday. As in three days away.
It was a gamble.
Our Wall of Shame, as we called it, was complete. I needed to get food, advertise, make sure we had enough supplies, advertise, set up a schedule with the staff, advertise, talkto Asher about the charity donation and, last but not least, advertise.
To get that done, I needed Luke, who was currently staring at a blank screen on his tablet, to get the designs done! Even a half a dozen of them and I could get started.
“How’s it going over there?” I asked tentatively.
He blinked as if coming out of a daze, then glanced my way. “Art is a process.”
I sighed, exasperated with the whole thing. “Well, the only art I can draw is a chalk outline, so get to work or we’re going to need one.”
The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Did you just threaten to kill me?”
“Well, it wasn’t a threat to play with sidewalk chalk. Come on, Luke, you need thirty. You have zero. Can’t you do a few generic ones that are bound to appeal to the masses and then get more creative as you go? I need something to put on the social media graphics.”
He put his tablet on the table in front of him and stood. Playful, fun, goofy Luke looked fucking smoldering. He turned to face me in what felt like slow motion. “Art doesn’t mean shit without some meaning behind it. I can’t just slap garbage down and sign my name to it.”
I stood too, tiny compared to him but getting more pissed off by the second. “Well, it really won’t mean shit when this place closes down.”
It was a low blow, but I needed him to get his ass moving.
“You can’t just stomp your feet and expect creativity to pour out of me. I need to think.”
“Well, I need you to think faster.”
He puffed up. “You want quality, then you’ll have to wait forit.”
“I’m not asking you to betray your vision or whatever,” I shot back. “Just get something on paper before I—”
He took a step forward. He was in my space now. Heat from his body reached my skin. “Before you what?”
I swallowed, suddenly feeling a little shaky. I took a second to take stock. I wasn’t afraid of him. He didn’t have a violent bone in his body. Which left one conclusion. I was turned on. I was horny as fuck for this domineering, passionate, take no shit version of the man I’d slept with just a few months ago. I wet my lips. “Before I have to get physical.”
His eyes darkened and he loomed close, his gaze darting to my lips then back again.
Shit, shit, shit.
