“Very.”
“What kind of movies do you like, Smith?” Riggs asked, taking another slow swallow of his coffee. “What do you like to eat?”
“I like old movies, but…” Marshall liked old movies. “I like anything.”
“Narrow it down,” he said softly, but the command in it was clear.
I ignored the way pressure built between my legs in response to his tone, setting the coffee mug down on my lap and wracking my brain to come up with an answer.
“Anything based on a true story,” I answered.
“Got it.” Riggs nodded, chewing on his lower lip. “And food?”
“I like everything.” At the look Riggs gave me, I tucked my chin toward my chest and laughed. “It’s honestly true, but I really like Thai, and I love a good burger.”
“Okay.”
“What about you?” I asked.
He exhaled a breath that expanded his cheeks and stared hard at his coffee like the answer was at the bottom of his mug. “It’s been a long time since anyone has asked me that.”
“Good thing I’m here.”
He flicked a glance up at me. “Isn’t it.”
I waited for him to answer, much like he’d waited for me. The quiet was still there between us, a soft and easy thing that didn’t scare me in the slightest.
“I haven’t had Thai in a while,” he said softly, swallowing hard. “And I really love horror films.” Riggs licked his lips and squinted. “I’ve been on autopilot for a few years. Since…since right before I opened the shop.”
“I’m sure it’s hard work.”
I remembered how much work it had been for Marshall to branch out on his own and start his own firm. Architecture was a lot different from tattooing, but the drive was clearly there in both of them.
“I love a good pasta,” he said as a follow up. “Or, like, sauce. I think I just like good sauce.”
“That makes it pretty easy.”
He tucked his hair behind his ear and nodded, clearing his throat.
“Yeah. This is,” he said. “Now, are you ready for that shower?”
CHAPTER 20
RIGGS
With as little interference from Damon as I could muster, I made the decision to hire two artists to work for me at Ink and Ember. I spent most of the day Thursday ironing out schedules and booth rent, and Friday night I made Damon come over to help me move everything around to make room so the space was ready for Merrick and Holden to start the following Monday. It had been at his insistence, after all. It was the least he could do. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for the two of us to get the shop in order. We finished just before ten, both of us hopping up on the counter so we didn’t stomp all over the freshly mopped floors.
“He’s proud of you,” Damon said quietly, kicking the steel toe of his boot into my ankle bone.
“Who?”
He scoffed and swung his legs over the counter, jumping down and landing in the already dry waiting area.
“Who?” he mocked. “You know who.”
It took me a minute to piece it together. Smith had spent the whole week at the forefront of my mind, but that’s not who Damon was talking about.
“For this?” I asked, gesturing at the two blank booths we’d set up for my new hires.
