Page 4

Besides, what guy in his right mind is going to want me? Why would a guy like Phoenix want the sad broken girl when he could have anyone?

“Have a seat,” Phoenix says, pointing to the black leather table in the middle of the room and I sit down as he begins moving things around. “Are we doing black and gray or color?”

“Black and gray,” I answer and he nods, smearing a clear ointment on the tray in front of him before placing little plastic cups in it and filling them with ink. Pulling out a sheet of contact paper, he lays it over the design and his brows furrow as he focuses on tracing over my design.

“You’re makin’ my job easy,” he says, glancing over at me and I shrug.

“I do what I can.”

He flashes me that laid back grin and I swear my heart stops for a moment as he focuses back on the drawing. Even when he’s so focused on his task at hand, he is mesmerizing and I realize I could sit here all day and watch him work. Turning away, I check out the canvases on the wall.

“Are those yours?”

His head pops up and he looks where I’m pointing. “Yeah. They’re mine.”

“They’re really great.”

A shy smile slowly stretches across his face and butterflies dance around in my belly. What the hell is he doing to me?

“Thanks.”

I nod and he turns back to the tattoo as my mind drifts to my own art. There was a time when it was all that mattered to me. I spent hours a day painting and I put so much work into making it successful but he changed all that. Now, all I can do every day is stare at the blank canvas in my spare bedroom and wish I could get past this block I’ve developed. A block that, annoyingly, sounds an awful lot like his voice.

“All right, hold out your wrist,” Phoenix says when he finishes with the drawing and I hold my wrist out, flipping it over as he searches for the perfect spot. When he finally presses the paper against my wrist, his fingers brush over my skin and I feel a spark, like water in a hot pan. I barely hold in my gasp and my gaze flies up to his face. He is still focused on my tattoo and I would think I imagined it if it wasn’t for the slight twitch of his lips, letting me know that he felt it, too.

He remains quiet as he pulls the paper away from my skin, leaving the design behind. “What do you think?”

I examine the crown on my wrist and my heart swells with pride. Yeah, I definitely earned this.

“Perfect,” I say and when I look up at him, his eyes are locked on me. He nods slowly, his eyes saying so much more than he is. I think I could get lost in those blue depths forever. We just stare at one another, caught up in some kind of intimate connection that makes my heart pound so hard I can hear it in my ears. My lips part and his gaze immediately drops to my mouth. He licks his full lips and I feel like I’m going to combust and then he seems to come to his senses as he shakes his head.

“Uh, go ahead and lay your arm on this table.” His voice sounds like he swallowed a handful of gravel and it makes me flush with warmth. He motions to the small table to my left and I place my arm on it, with the design facing up. He finishes up his prep then grabs the tattoo gun off the tray next to him and a buzzing sound fills my ears. “Ready?”

I nod and whisper, “Yeah.”

He uses one hand to hold my wrist steady and even through the rubber of the gloves I can feel sparks shooting up my arm. I’m so distracted by his touch and the heat it ignites in my body I don’t notice when he starts moving the needle over my skin. Surprised by the sting, I gasp and he stops, his gaze snapping up to mine, concern lining his face.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I was just surprised.” His sweet, reassuring smile puts me completely at ease and I nod for him to continue.

“Is this your first?” he asks as he starts tattooing again.

“Huh?”

“The tattoo. Is it your first?”

“Gee, how could you tell?”

He laughs at my comment and I’m finding that I love the sound of it.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” He winks and my heart skips a beat. As much as my brain knows liking him is a very bad idea, the message doesn’t seem to be reaching the rest of my body. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to find my person, the one who was made specifically for me. I’ve always been a hopeless romantic but the past couple years left me wondering if the idea of soul mates was just a notion I naively believed in before I met him and knew how much a person could truly hurt another.

Needing a distraction from the dark memories trying to surface, I turn toward Phoenix and watch him as he works on my tattoo. He reminds me so much of Moe, with the exception of his blue eyes. He has the same dark hair, although he wears his longer and messy. It looks like he’s constantly running his fingers through it and my fingers twitch to do the same. His strong, square jaw is lined with dark stubble, but he has Moe’s same easy smile that has always comforted me. I study him for a long time, trying to figure out what it is about him that has me so out of sorts.

“Can I ask you something?”

We’ve been sitting in silence as he works on my tattoo but at my question, he glances up at me.