“It’s new. You had enough shots of her that I could make an original.”
My heart soars. Stone’s quiet, deep voice rolls out like this extra work is no big deal, but I can’t believe he’s captured her so perfectly. “I love it,” I say, tracing my fingers over the picture. “I absolutely love it.”
He smiles to himself and leans back in the chair. “Cool. We can make an appointment whenever you’re ready.”
“When does your first shift start?” I ask quickly, changing the subject. Stone might make me feel safe, but I’m still a little shy to admit how nervous I am about needles.
Any true confessions about how his art scares the hell out of me can be saved for a more fitting venue. Right now, it’s way more fun to lean into the fantasy.
I’m just the hot tattoo artist’s boyfriend, chilling behind the booth while people bleed for art on either side of us. No big deal.
“His next shift is right now,” Billie says, appearing at the front of the table.
Stone tilts his eyes up to her. “Right now?”
“My client’s late, Caesar doesn’t want empty chairs, and there’s time for some flash. Why, you not ready to make your debut?”
“Yeah, Stone,” I joke, nudging his boot with my sneaker. “You going to choke under the pressure? I promise, I won’t let it affect our relationship.”
Stone waves a finger between me and Billie. “You two,” he says as he stands, “you’re trouble.”
Billie winks at me, which feels nice, and Stone saunters to the booth. I watch as he quickly starts cleaning and preparing the station. His motions are as smooth and relaxed as ever, but when I catch a glimpse of his expression, I see that he’s smiling to himself.
“You know,” Billie says, still by my side, “Stone’s a real talent.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I’m getting that impression.”
“He just needs a little more self-confidence. Wonder if there’s someone around who could help him out with that?”
I scrunch up my brow, not certain what she means, but before I can ask, Billie walks away.
Stone is talented, that’s for sure. I know a true artist when I see one. He might not have the kind of skill Caesar has. That takes decades of refined experience, no matter what artform you’re working in.
But still, Stone has an artist’s eye, and there’s something incredibly sexy about that to me.
My breath hitches as I watch him greet a walk-in client, his deep voice warm as they talk through options. I’m about ten feet away, far enough that I feel separate but close enough to study his movements.
The way he pulls on the black gloves…
The squint in his dark eyes as he studies the placement of the small heart…
The tight hug of denim on his butt as he leans forward, loading his machine…
Fuck, there’s something incredibly sexy about Stone, full stop.
It dawns on me that I haven’t thought about Milo once today. Usually, I’d be at least planning my next text to him and counting down the minutes until we hung out again.
Most Saturdays I’d pine for his company, but not today.
Now all I can do is watch Stone as he holds the buzzing, whirring machine up to the light.
My heart beats as fast as the drums that are banging over the speakers. While Stone goes to work, stabbing his client and casually wiping the bloody ink away, the truth crashes down on me.
I’m not actually faking my feelings for him at all.
CHAPTERTEN
STONE
