The curtain pulled back just as I swiveled on my chair to look. And I immediately wished I hadn’t.
“Sage.”
Misty’s gaze jumped between Aiden and me, her curiosity prancing on the tension pulled tight in my booth.
“I’m working.”
The neutral statement was enough to buy myself a ticket out of whatever shitshow he had planned, and I turned back to my client. He stepped forward then stopped abruptly, his sneakers squeaking on the floor.
“I need five minutes.”
My hand stayed steady despite my heartbeat spiking, and I was just thankful there was something to focus on that didn’t include baby blue eyes and a smile that got me weak in the knees.
“Sage—”
“I don’t have five minutes.”
Careful to keep her movements small, Misty twisted her head toward him. “She said she’s working.”
Nick’s head popped into my booth, as if having one large man encroaching on my workspace wasn’t enough. “Sorry, Sage. I told him—”
“I heard.”
“I’m not bothering anyone,” Aiden said, holding up his hands. “I just want to talk.”
Nick threw an arm over Aiden’s shoulders, and I clocked all this unfolding without looking up from Misty’s peony. Aiden shrugged him off, stepping deeper into the booth.
“Come on, man.”
The bell over the front door jingled, calling an end to the debate. Nick gave me a look, and I nodded. He couldn’t exactly be late for his booking.
“It’s okay,” I said to him. “He’s on his way out.”
Nick didn’t look convinced, and I couldn’t blame him. I doubted my own assertion. Mostly because of what happened the last time Aiden and I shared the same space.
Had I thought about this inevitability? Sure. But I’d also given Aiden’s resolve too much credit. In my imaginary scenario, at least two weeks passed before he’d barge in here.
“Please don’t distract my artist,” Misty said, all her sweetness from earlier now replaced with a sternness often associated with grouchy librarians. I liked her even more for it. “This is my first time and as you can imagine, I don’t want anything going wrong.”
“You probably shouldn’t talk so much while the needle’s on you.”
“Seriously?” I glared at him. “You force your way in here, and then proceed to give my client a hard time?”
“She looks like she could use a break.” He gestured with his head for me to follow him out. “Can we talk? Please?”
The stubbornness was a lot. Too much. I’d been a dick; I was willing to own that. But that didn’t give him the right to force me into something I wasn’t ready for.
The machine cut off under my thumb, the vibration dying against my palm.
Silence pressed in around the booth, thick with antiseptic and ink. I kept my grip on the frame of Misty’s wrist, my gloved fingers steady against the warm stretch of her skin, and lifted my eyes to Aiden.
“Get out.”
He still stood inside the curtain he’d pushed aside, one hand tangled in the black fabric. The front of the shop glowed behind him. Reception chatter carried faintly through the curtain, a laugh from the piercer, the bell over the door chiming as someone else came in. None of it touched the space between us.
“I just need five minutes,” he said.
“You need to leave.” I reached for a fresh paper towel and wiped away the excess ink, revealing the clean curve of the stem I’d just finished. “You can’t be back here.”
