Excusing myself, I went to get things ready. I’d abandoned my booth a while ago and my brothers hadn’t hired anyone in my place. It was clean but somehow hollow. Maybe having Brent there would breathe it back to life.
When I returned, Brent was talking to someone. I turned the corner, expecting Altan or someone else but instead there was a cat. Bunny Foo-Foo. The cutest cat with the stupidest name. I would never tell Altan or Sothea that out of fear of getting mauled, but it was dumb.
“Is that right? You’ve become the shop cat? They called you that?”
Bunny Foo-Foo cocked his head this way and that and meowed.
“Those scoundrels. I bet you protect them from all kinds of things.”
More meows. He even put a paw on Brent’s leg then moved it over his own eyes. It was almost as if the cat understood. I shook my head. That was crazy talk.
“You two getting along?” I asked, sitting next to Brent. Tattooing was an intimate business. Touching. Sometimes breathing right on the other person. Smelling them for good or for bad—in Brent’s case very, very good. Feeling the heat come from their body. Seeing their freckles and wrinkles and the imperfections of their skin.
“Yes. She’s a good girl. Doesn’t like being alone too much.”
“Huh.” Cats were weird. Maybe Brent was getting vibes off her or something.
I placed the stencil on Brent’s back. It was a great design. I’d drawn it straight from my heart.
Fuck, it looked good on him. His toned back. Broad shoulders. Like the damned thing was meant for him.
My dragon insisted it was, but I had a feeling that getting my mate to see that would be harder than usual.
He was worth fighting for. I’d spent the night outlining the stencil. My hand cramped, and Brent hissed at several junctions. Some areas were more sensitive than others, the back for one. Wasn’t much fat there. Especially on him.
Once we were done, he got up to stretch. It was late. Xavier and Greta, Sothea and Altan, even Bunny Foo-Foo had gone home for the night. I envied them. They had their mates tucked into their beds, and I so wanted that with Brent.
My human side wanted me to have some pride, but my dragon? The son of a bitch didn’t have any when it came to getting our mate.
“It’s late. Can I drive you home?”
He turned to me while gently putting his shirt back on. Shame. “No. I-I have my car here.”
Rejected. Again. “Okay. Cool.” I got up and cleaned my station and, despite not wanting me to take him home, he lingered.
Finally, when I was about to ask if Bunny Foo-Foo had his tongue, he said, “Theo, would you want to grab a burger with me? I’m starved and…I think it’s time you and I had a conversation.”
I tried not to read too much into it and failed. Miserably. “Sure. Give me five minutes.”
Chapter Four
Brent
It was amazing he still wanted to go out with me. Talk about being wishy-washy. He’d offered me a ride home and I said no…then turned around and invited him out for a burger. Lucky he’d said yes. Or was I? And why was I always so confused? Of course, I had driven to the shop, so it would have been silly to leave it there.
But Theo had me off-balance. I never did one-night stands, but I was pretty sure if I did, I would not want to see that person again. But there was something about Theo. Something that drew me and made me want to get to know him better. Tattooing was such an intimate act. Other people talked about their experiences, the discomfort, the high that could come with the process, as well. But no one had talked about the connection I’d felt with the man holding the gun. Sure, we’d spent one night together, and it had been great, but that didn’t lead me to expect anything more.
Or to feel the heat spreading over my body at his touch. How could I feel both the scratching sting of the needle, a burning sting that gradually shifted into a dull ache—and tingling pleasure, desire?
This was way too complicated for me.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“I-I don’t know. Any suggestions?”
He grinned at me. “Since you did the inviting, I thought you had somewhere in mind.”
“I’m trying to think if there’s anywhere that might be open.” I’d been in the neighborhood but never really looking for lunch or, in this case, a latish dinner.
