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Jasper turned around and found Hiyori and her client both watching him over the edge of Hiyori’s booth.

The may I fucking help you eyebrows returned with a vengeance.

“Oh my god,” Hiyori’s client said.

Hiyori grinned. “Jasper.”

“Hiyori,” he said tiredly.

“He was so into you,” Hiyori said, and her client nodded in agreement.

“What?” Jasper asked, rejecting not only their assessment but also the notion of even having this conversation. “No.”

They both looked at him with matching expressions of disbelief and pity.

Jasper went back to his booth. “He was not,” he called back to them, just in case they thought his silence was surrender.

Contrary to what people assumed given his somewhat awkward nature, Jasper wasn’t oblivious to when he was being hit on. His picture had been published when he got that stupid award, and he’d had a couple of consults that turned out to just be someone wanting to give him their number.

Konrad had seemed polite, even professional. But interested in Jasper? Definitely not.

Two weeks later, Konrad returned.

Jasper was actually working that day, so he was wearing something with a bit more mobility than the button-down from before. The black jeans were mostly the same, just with silver studs along the edges of the pockets, and he was wearing a black T-shirt with long fishnet sleeves. It made him feel covered and comfortable while still being breathable.

“Jasper, you’ve got a walk-in,” Hiyori said from in front of him, on the other side of their shared wall.

He didn’t look up from the shading he was doing on one of his regulars. “I can take them in fifteen.”

She probably passed along the message. The music in the shop was loud, and it helped him focus, drowning out his heartbeat and the sound of someone’s dog barking on the sidewalk and cars and voices and—

It helped drown out the noise.

He finished up and said his goodbyes to Lawrence, one of his regulars, and when he stepped out of the booth, Konrad was perched elegantly on one of the armchairs in the shop’s waiting area. “Mr. Iversen,” he greeted, gesturing for Konrad to follow him back.

Konrad sat in his chair, and Jasper pulled on a new pair of gloves. “Ready to change that earring?”

“Quite ready, if you please.”

So fuckin’ fancy.

Jasper inspected the piercing first, checking to make sure the swelling had gone down, looking for any sign of inflammation, and found no red flags. He carefully removed the backing from the stud so he could pull it free. “Did that hurt?”

“No.”

Konrad produced the same small bag from the first day he came in. He opened it and Jasper held his hand out, letting Konrad drop the earring into his gloved palm. It was a small gold stud not unlike the one Jasper had just removed, but this one was even smaller, and a little gold cross dangled from the stud by a short, delicate chain. A dainty, elegant thing.

“It’s beautiful,” Jasper said softly. The craftsmanship was excellent, and it looked like real gold.

He looked up and once more found Konrad’s eyes already on his face. There was a softness in the man’s dark gaze. He looked from the earring back to Jasper, and silently turned his head, giving Jasper access to the tiny hole in his ear. Jasper lightly cleaned the earring and put it in, holding it in place while he slid the backing onto the post. He secured it with enough room that it wouldn’t squeeze Konrad’s lobe and let go.

His eyes flicked to Konrad’s face and this time, Konrad was looking at his arms. They were half visible through the fishnet sleeves, but the intensity of Konrad’s stare made him feel far more exposed than that. Konrad was probably just staring at his tattoos again.

“You could have turned me away quite easily, when I first came to you,” Konrad said, watching Jasper remove his gloves. “But you did not. I rather had my heart set on getting this done that day, so I’m grateful. Let me repay you. The restaurant won’t be open for some weeks yet, pending supplies arriving and inspections and the like, but it’s quite ready to prepare meals.”

Jasper laughed nervously. He didn’t do social engagements. “Just doin’ my job.”

Oh, god. The accent. He cringed, hearing the Southern drawl slip out, and kept his eyes firmly on the winding black design on his hand. Anything to avoid making eye contact after that.