My head hurts. In fact, it’s been throbbing for days now. It’s not that I’m complaining about the uplift in business since the art show Ryan participated in a few months ago, but the shop has been so busy I haven’t had a second to do anything behind the scenes. The supply orders aren’t done, the invoicing is behind, and the financials haven’t been looked at in over a week. I’m drowning in work, and the damn phone hasn’t stopped ringing. I need to hire an assistant or at least somebody to organize the bookings and greet the clients.
This has been a week from hell, and I’m itching for a drink. Times like this are always the hardest to fight the addiction. When my mind is so full of the shit I need to get done and the people I’m letting down by not being able to keep up with everything. It’s always the same. That little voice creeps in, assuring me that one drink won’t hurt. It will help calm my racing mind. I shake my head to clear the tempting thoughts just in time as Nyx knocks on my open office door.
“Your two o’clock is in, bossman,” she grimaces as she says it. Clearly, I look as stressed as I feel.
“Thanks, Nyxie. I’ll be right out.” I offer her a smile that I know doesn’t reach my eyes, but she doesn’t call me on it. Just nods and heads back out front. Looking back at my laptop screen, I abandon the order form once again. Closing the lid I shove out of my chair. Looks like another long night of work is ahead of me.
“I’m getting too old for this,” I complain hours later as I stretch my back. My last client had chosen a Japanese koi fish design to cover up a dumb tribal tattoo on his bicep he had done as a teenager. The intricate design should have only taken three hours but ended up taking over five because the guy whined and fidgeted the whole time. So not only is my headache worse, but now my back is aching from leaning over for so long.
Usually, working on large pieces like that, with my music playing, I can zone out from reality, but not today, not this week. With so much to do around the studio and fighting the cravings whispering promises of tranquility in my head, I’m pretty much done. Sighing heavily, I make my way back to my office and close the door behind me. The guys will all be packing up to leave soon anyway, so I should be able to work without interruption for the next few hours at least. Just as I think that, I hear someone knocking on the door. I slump into my desk chair before calling out, “Come in.”
“Hey, bossman,” Ryan peeks inside. “Are you okay?”
“Are you here to check on me?” I ask, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah. Nyx said you looked pretty exhausted, so I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything.”
Looking at him and reading the concern on his face, much like the look Nyx had given me a few hours ago, I realize I’m not holding things together as well as I thought. I’m drowning, losing my grip on control, and that can’t happen. This is when the voice of temptation comes back loud and forceful.
“What I need is an assistant or somebody at the front desk. We don’t have time to answer the fucking phone.” I sigh because this isn’t Ryan’s problem. It’s mine. “Sorry man, long day. You head on out. I’m just gonna submit the supply orders and be right behind you,” I tell him with as much honesty as I can force into my tone because if Ryan thinks I’m going to be stuck here for hours, he will pull up a chair and stay with me.
He eyes me warily, trying to decide if I’m telling the truth or not, but rather than hold eye contact and give him a chance to call me out on my bullshit, I just open my laptop and carry on with the order form. Eventually, he exhales loudly and mutters a goodbye, which I’m almost sure was followed by an even lower ‘stubborn ass’, but I’m too tired to care. Ryan is a great guy. He’s worked for me for a long time. I know he just wants to help, but this isn’t his mess. It’s mine.
The next time I check the time, it’s just past two a.m. My eyelids are heavy and stinging with tiredness. My back is screaming at me for sitting hunched over my laptop for the last however many hours, but it’s all done. The supply orders are sent and set up for the next three months, the invoices are checked and paid, and the books are balanced. My head is pounding, but fuck, it’s finished.
Sitting up, I stretch my arms above my head, hearing my back crack loudly in the silent room. Fuck, maybe I should give yoga a go. I huff a laugh at that notion, but my mind whirls back to Princess Pete and his offer to help me reduce my stress levels. It still boggles my mind what a hot young guy like that would see in an old, surly bastard like me. He’s all sunshine and rainbows next to my gloom and thunderclouds. No matter how beautiful he is, I would never stain something so innocent with my truckload of baggage, not even for an orgasm or a yoga lesson.
As I arrive at the front of my building and head for the stairs, I see a familiar car with a mop of crazy curls pressed against the driver’s side window.What the fuck?I start walking toward Betty? Berta? I don’t remember what Pete called his car. I knock on the window, and he turns his head slowly, a bit confused as to where he is. He looks cute as hell with sleepy eyes. When he notices me, he sits up too fast, managing to bang his knee on the steering wheel as he fumbles to roll down the window.
“Oh good, you’re here.” His smile directed at me makes my chest ache. He’s looking at me like I’m Ed McMahon, and I have a gigantic cheque with his name on it.
“What are you doing here, Troublemaker? You realize it’s the middle of the night?” I ask, my own face betraying me and breaking into a smile that could almost rival his, although I can’t think of one reason why he would be here. I’m certain he doesn’t live in this neighborhood.
“Well, I haven’t seen you in a month. Every time I come by the shop, you’re working, and you didn’t come to Drew’s cookout last week, so I decided it was time to bring Mohammed to the mountain, so to speak,” he says matter-of-factly like it’s a valid reason for him to be sleeping in his car in the middle of the night.
“And what if I hadn’t come home tonight?” I ask with a smirk.
“I would come again tomorrow, and the next day and the next. I won’t give up so easily.” His smile is still there, but now it is almost salacious.
“Oh damn, I need to go to the bathroom. Would you be so kind as to let me use yours?” He bats his eyelashes at me. I bet he can get everything he asks for with those eyes of his. I can feel my dick twitching with the way he’s looking me up and down.
“What? You don’t have any empty bottles in there?” I tease, remembering the mess in his car.
“Come on, Grumpy Bear. Only for a second.” Again, with those damn lashes.
“Ughh, fine. Come on.” I should be firm about him not getting anywhere close to my apartment. No one’s been inside besides me since I bought it, so why am I agreeing to this?
He jumps out of the car, and now it’s me following him, not the other way around, not that I’m complaining. His ass looks delicious in those tight-as-fuck jeans.
“Second door on the left,” I instruct, stepping aside to let him into my apartment. He says nothing and goes straight down the hall.
I wait for him to come back out, trying not to think about the fact that I have a hot young man in my house, but my mind goes directly to the things I could do to him. Things he wants to do to me. And now my dick is hard.Down boy.
He walks out of the bathroom and looks in my direction.
“You know, maybe you could give me a tour since I’m already here?”
“Oh yeah, and what would you like to see first?” Am I flirting? Why am I flirting with him? Because he’s hot and I haven’t been with anyone for a very long time.
