Page 31 of Ink

“What time are you off?”

Every safety precaution I taught myself flew out the window the second this man started talking to me. “I’m off around eight.”

“You doin’ anything after?”

“She’s fuckin’ busy, Derrick,” Ink growls, closing in behind me. He’s so close to me I can feel the heat radiating off of him and onto my back. “Gage is ready for you.”

“Geez, aren’t we testy today. I was just going to ask her to dinner. Another time, babe.” Derrick winks at me again before heading toward Gage’s room.

He was going to ask me out.

Oh. My. Gosh.

He was actually going to ask me out!

And my butthead boss ruined it.

By the time the two seconds pass that it took to whip around and face Ink, I’m seething.

“Was that really necessary? I’m perfectly capable of deciding what I’m going to do with my free time.”

Ink’s scowl deepens. “I know you are, darlin’. But it’s not going to involve that piece of shit.”

Excuse me?

“Where do you get off on thinking you can dictate who I spend my time with?”

“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid.” He bites out.

“Oh, so now I’m stupid again?”

“You don’t know that guy from Adam and you want to go out with him?”

He can’t be serious right now.

“I don’t know, Ink.” I throw my hands up in the air. “You didn’t give me a chance to answer for myself. Unlike you, some people think I’m worth the effort.”

“You think Derrick will put in the effort?” Ink asks, venom lacing his voice, sending a shiver down my spine. “He’s been to prison for beating the shit out of his girl to the point she was breathin’ through a tube. You think that gives off ‘puttin’ in effort’?”

Oh.

“He has?” I swallow, my voice sounding small even to my ears.

All I can think about in this moment is that could have been me. Is my red flag detector defective? Why am I attracted to such crappy men?

“Yeah, Sutton. Don’t assume any motherfucker that comes into this shop is a good guy. You might have finally got in touch with your wild side and colored your hair, but don’t forget that you aren’t from this world. Guys like that will chew you up and spit you out with pieces of yourself permanently missing. There won’t be any patching yourself together. They’ll destroy you.”

I hate how much of what Ink just said hits home. A giant, prickly ball of anxiety has settled in the pit of my stomach.

I can’t believe I told this guy when I get off work.

“Well, I didn’t say I was going to go out with him. I just want you to know it’s not your place.” He has to know that he can’t run my life and make decisions for me when none of it has anything to do with him. Even if the guy was bad news. I know myself. I would have said yes and then bailed.

“You work in my world, so that makes it my place, Sutton. It’s best you remember that.” Ink starts heading back toward his room but not before calling over his shoulder, “Oh, and I’m takin’ you home tonight.”

This time I don’t argue because I know I messed up on telling Derrick when I was getting off. Just exactly how much of our conversation did Ink overhear?

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