I stopped trying to dissuade her, even though it felt like the pinnacle of unethical practice. She was already committed to it or she wouldn’t have been arguing for alternative artists and tolerating my jerkoff behavior.

“Give me a few days to work on translating the design into a tattoo, then you can tell me if you like what I’ve done.”

“Sure, when do you want me to come in next?”

“Early next week?”

“Monday? Oh wait, you don’t usually work Mondays, do you? What about Tuesday?”

I grinned. She knew I didn’t work on Monday. That meant she was aware of my schedule. Nice. We were both creepers. “I’ll come in Monday for you. How about you stop by after you finish your shift and we can hash out the finer details,” I replied.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

“I can wait until Tuesday.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’ll come in just for you.” She toyed with the frayed edge of the sketchbook. There I was, doing it again, saying things to make her uncomfortable.

“Okay.” She peeked up at me, her lips pursed like she was fighting a grin. As if I would renege if she happened to show some kind of enthusiasm over the fact I’d given in to her.

“Excellent. I’ll make a copy of this.” I hauled ass over to the copier.

Lisa dropped into my chair. “We’re going down the street for a drink when we close up. Do you want to come?” she asked Tenley.

I tensely awaited her reply. I was fine in here, without booze in my system to destroy my limited control. But put me in a bar with Tenley and add alcohol? I couldn’t be held responsible for my actions. Especially if another douchebag put his hands on her.

“I have some assignments to finish up. Maybe another time, though.” I could have been wrong, but I thought she sounded disappointed. Despite my reservations, so was I.

Once I made the copy, I led her to the full-length, three-sided mirror, which allowed clients to see their finished piece from every conceivable angle. In order to accommodate the dimensions of the tattoo, I would need to measure her back span and rework the design as required.

Tenley stood in front of the mirror, rocking on her heels. I towered over her from my place behind her, the top of her head a couple inches shy of my chin. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her jeans, exposing a thin band of ivory skin, and looked over her shoulder, waiting for directions.

“You can face forward.” I skimmed her cheek with a knuckle, encouraging her to look at her reflection. She blinked in surprise, but she didn’t shy away. It looked like we were making progress.

I replaced the hands at her hips with my own and resisted the urge to slide them under the fabric and run my palms over the silken flesh. I angled her body slightly to give her a better view of her back and positioned my thumbs at the widest part of her hips. “This is where you want the piece to end?”

“Yes.” Her response came out a breathy whisper.

Huh. Interesting. That was a good sign. I liked the possibility the attraction was mutual beyond the usual fascination with my body art.

I measured her lower back and recorded the numbers. Moving up to the dip in her waist and then to her shoulders, I tried to remain as professional as possible. It wasn’t easy, and it didn’t help matters that Tenley was flustered and fidgety. When social awkwardness had become a turn-on for me was a mystery.

“Okay, we’re all set.” I almost gave her ass a pat but stopped before I could act on my idiocy.

“Thank you for agreeing to do this for me.” She said it with such sad sincerity. Like marking her untouched skin with a massive tattoo deserved some kind of medal.

“It’s my pleasure.”

Tenley surprised me when she put her hand on my shoulder and rose up on her tiptoes to drop a soft kiss on the edge of my jaw, which was as high as she could reach. Mortification colored her cheeks pink as she stepped away, like she’d acted before she’d thought. I could relate; it seemed to be how I worked where she was concerned.

“See you Monday.” She hurried out of the shop and across the street, leaving her sketchbook behind. I wondered if she’d be back for it before then. I hoped so. I waited until she disappeared between the buildings before I brought the sketch to my station and set it down for the rest of them to see.

Chris let out a low whistle.

“That’s heavy,” Jamie said.

“I know.”

The sketch was otherworldly. And I couldn’t believe I had agreed to it. The darkness in it told me there was a story I should know.

9

TENLEY


Despite Hayden’s concern about the size of the piece, he vehemently refused to let anyone else work on it. His possessiveness over the job was as confusing as it was appealing, like everything else about him. The underlying significance was something I wouldn’t dwell on.

When I was near Hayden, all the parts of my past I wanted to leave behind disappeared, if only for a short while. But it extended far beyond the physical attraction, which had become impossible to ignore. He understood the concept of art as expression in a way my family and Connor hadn’t. Consuming in a way I’d never experienced; his presence acted as a balm I hadn’t realized I needed. With him I felt safe to embrace those inherent parts of myself I had previously denied out of fear of judgment. It made him as alluring as it did unnerving.

I didn’t know his story, but the tattoos I’d seen on his body and in his albums reflected his talent to unite the delicate and the severe. I hoped to learn more about what inspired his body art while he put my design on me. I would have plenty of time to do that with such an extensive piece.

I had spent the past ten months cultivating solitude, but now I wanted contact, physical and emotional. If Hayden came up with an adaptation we both agreed on, I would get both. The warmth of his touch made me feel grounded and alive. It was shockingly foreign after so much isolation. I could only hope that the tattoo itself would bring the type of catharsis I craved.

I paced around my apartment, flipped through the most recent version of my thesis but couldn’t concentrate enough to make Professor Calder’s proposed changes. I set it aside and turned on the TV but found nothing to hold my attention. I tried to think about anything but Hayden, to find something else to occupy the space in my mind. But it was difficult, because the only other thoughts as constant as the icy-eyed tattoo artist were the things I didn’t want to think about at all.

I followed the line of the barbell in my ear with my fingertip. There was comfort in the dull throb. It was a vague and minor echo of the ache in my chest. Hayden had been right about the effect of physical pain as a release for the emotional. The initial sting of the needle as it slid through skin and cartilage reminded me I’d been through worse and survived. So far. I imagined the tattoo would be infinitely more purifying, an etching of pain into skin; a release for the agony I carried with me.

The sound of my phone ringing shocked me out of my self-flagellation. I was perilously close to cracking. I took a deep breath and another, and another, pushing emotions down, locking them away. I looked at the screen, but the number came up as unknown.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Tenley.”

Nausea was the first physical response, followed by irrational fear. “Trey.”

“I haven’t heard back from you. I expect you received my letter.”

Trey didn’t deal in preliminaries; he got right to the point. That he referred to the thick document as a “letter” bordered on ridiculous. There was no point in calling him out on it. In his mind it had been the most logical course of action, even if it was insensitive and hurtful.

“I got it.”

“So you’ve signed it, then. My lawyer should be expecting it shortly. The end of the week?” I could hear the condescension layered under the placid tone.

“Not exactly.”

“What’s the delay?”

“I’ve been busy. I haven’t had a chance to review it.” I couldn’t tell him the truth. He wouldn’t understand why I couldn’t face returning to Arden Hills to deal with this. All of our possessions were in that house, half of them still in boxes waiting to be unpacked. I couldn’t go through Connor’s things yet. The wounds were too fresh. I was just finding my footing; if I went back, I’d be at ground zero.

“Well, set aside some time, Tenley. There’s no point in prolonging this.”

“I’ll try and look at it this week.”

“You’ll need to do better than that. I expect a signed copy of the document on my lawyer’s desk early next week. That property is rightfully mine.”

His patience with me was wearing thin, and I had none for him. “Not according to the will.”

“Watch your tone,” he warned. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing in Chicago, playing at being a big girl. Why Connor insisted on indulging your silly ambitions at some second-tier college, I’ll never understand. Tell me, what else did you manipulate him into beside that and the wedding?”

“I didn’t manipulate Connor into anything. He was supportive.”

“Well, he’s not here to pander to you anymore and I don’t have his level of tolerance. Get the paperwork signed and send it back to me.”

A knock at the door saved me from saying something I would regret. I opened it, half-expecting Trey to be on the other side, and almost burst into tears of relief when he wasn’t.

“Howdy, neighbor, I thought you might want a drink.” Sarah stood in her blond, leggy glory, holding a magnum of red wine. The smile on her glossed lips fell, as she processed my distressed expression.