“Thanks,” I choke out, clearing my throat.
Leo smiles as Everett focuses on aligning two pieces of the dresser, holding an Allen wrench between his teeth. I begin sorting through the various parts of assembly while Leo tears down and folds the box, when Everett’s head snaps sideways,and his brow furrows with concern. “Wait a fucking second, that text message you sent me a few weeks back…?”
I wince. “We should probably agree here and now that we never again talk about my sex life.”
Everett’s nostrils flare. “I think we need to agree that you check who the fuck you’re texting before you hit send.”
“I know.” I grimace. “I’m sorry.”
Leo frowns. “I’m scared to know.”
“Best you don’t,” Everett murmurs.
36
VICE
“LOVE LIKE GHOSTS” - LORD HURON
“Just makesure you keep this over it for the next few days. If it begins to peel on its own, or if your skin gets irritated, it’s okay to take it off, just avoid getting the tattoo wet.”
I listen to August finish up his final appointment of the day from where I rest on the leather bench he keeps at the front of the shop as a waiting area. The woman had a huge upper thigh piece completed, and while it’s gorgeous, I’ll never be completely rational at the sight of his hands on someone else.
It might make me crazy, but I don’t care.
I decided I didn’t want to go home and be without him tonight. I checked my email when I finished my shift at the coffee shop and realized I had a response from one of the agents I queried a couple of weeks ago. My manuscript isn’t even finished yet, but Penelope’s sister-in-law is apparently a hotshot literary lawyer and offered to float my name around to a few of her contacts after she’d read my backlist herself.
The email I received today was from my top choice agent, and I’m too fucking scared to open it, so instead of going home, I stayed at the boardwalk. I took a walk down the pier with my brothers, spent much of the afternoon in Heathen’s helpingthem re-organize their display shelves, and then meandered down to Boardwalk Tattoo.
August was in the middle of the session when I came in, but after I said a quick hello and went to leave again, he asked his client if his “girlfriend” could stay. Something about it was so hot. The way his hands were on another woman’s skin, his focus solely on the art, all while making it abundantly clear that he belonged to me.
I’ve been wet ever since.
“Bye, Elena,” his client, Ivy, calls as she reaches the door. “It was nice meeting you!”
“You too.”
Once the glass door closes behind her, August locks it up and turns off the main lights. The space becomes illuminated only by the neon signs that hang strategically throughout the shop. He stands above me, smiling down as I lean back on the bench. Extending his hand to me, he nods toward the back of the room. “Come sit with me while I close up.”
I place my hand in his, letting him pull me into a standing position before he plants his lips on mine—hard and needful, like he’s been waiting all day for it. He walks me over to the bench he was just working on before he wipes it down with a cleaning solution and motions for me to take a seat.
“Have I ever told you that I think it’s beautiful in here? The way you decorated, the lights, the art.” My eyes track the entirety of the shop before landing on the largest of the neon signs he has hung up. On the main wall, above the majority of the workbenches, lit in fluorescent purple, it reads:You are the artist and the art. There are hand-drawn chalk creations all across the same wall—some from August and his staff, others from clients who come in and want to leave a drawing or a message. It’s a chaotic mural of beautiful mess and, like everything else in this building, inherently Augustus Hayes.
He pauses from where he pushes a large broom across the floor, grinning at me. “Thanks.”
“Don’t get offended by this, but why the name?” I ask. “It doesn’t seem to match the uniqueness of the business itself.”
August sighs, leaning his broom against the wall before closing the space between us. He places his hands on the bench between my legs, leaning into me until our faces align. “I had another name in mind before I opened, but by the time I did, it didn’t feel right anymore. At that point…” His emerald eyes go distant behind his glasses before he shakes it off, drawing his attention back to me. “I wasn’t feeling very creative. Tattoo shop on the boardwalk. Boardwalk Tattoo. Made sense.”
“What was the other name?” I ask, sliding my hand up his chest and neck before bracketing his jaw and running my thumb over his cheek.
He leans into my touch, his eyes falling closed. “Violet Muse.”
“August…” My stomach drops. “You were going to name it after…”
“Us.” He nods.
I don’t know how to respond, so I bring his mouth to mine, feathering my lips against his and hoping he can taste the desolation it brings me. He kisses me back, groaning as I slide my tongue against his, opening him up to me.
