Even if my last kiss from Connor had been memorable, I could say with absolute certainty that no kiss from him compared to the one I shared with Hayden. It was like setting off an atomic bomb of desire. It wiped out everything but him.

I thought I understood physical attraction, but in the wake of the unbound longing Hayden inspired in one kiss, I began to see how naïve I’d been. While I loved Connor and always would, he never held a fraction of the allure Hayden did. I didn’t know what to do with the overwhelming need for more of him.

Facing Hayden after tonight wasn’t going to be pleasant. Beyond the mortification of rejection, which I hoped I could handle, I was terrified he would reconsider being my tattooist. I needed it to be him. He was broken, too, maybe not as badly as me, but he understood loss. It was reflected in the art he wore on his body, in his reluctance to put the design on me without knowing why I wanted it. The tattoo was my absolution, and I trusted Hayden to make it happen. It was about more than body art, though; pretending otherwise was a lie. I wanted his touch and the closeness that came with it. I craved the connection I’d found with him, even if I shouldn’t.

I dealt with the situation by not dealing with it. I went through the motions, got up in the morning, attended school, worked through more revisions for my jerk of an advisor, taught classes and marked papers, went to work.

Hiding things from Cassie was a challenge. She was perceptive and nurturing. She made me want to tell her everything, but I couldn’t. She was too close to Hayden to be safe.

Above all else, I evaded Hayden. I was embarrassed by the way I’d thrown myself at him. Regardless of the rejection, I was also terrified I would do it again. He stopped by more than once the following evening, and each time I would disappear. At one point Cassie sent him down to the basement, where I was sorting new acquisitions. I hid inside an old wardrobe. I came upstairs a while later to find Cassie organizing trinkets on a shelf.

“Any particular reason you’re avoiding Hayden?” she asked.

Normally she wasn’t so up-front. She picked up one of the fragile figurines and dusted it off.

“I’m not avoiding him.”

“Really? He’s been in here three times today, he’s testy and he keeps asking for you, but you always seem to vanish the second he comes in the door. Twenty minutes ago I sent him downstairs to find you, and he told me you weren’t there.”

“It’s complicated.”

Cassie laughed and set the figurine back on the shelf. “Oh honey, everything about Hayden is complicated.”

I sighed. “I’m fully aware.”

“Is it about the tattoo?” she asked, her concern genuine.

“Yes and no. That’s part of it.”

When I didn’t offer any more information, Cassie sighed. “I’m not sure which one of you is worse. I don’t think I’ve met two more secretive people in my life. Look, whatever is going on between you is your business, but I’ll be honest—I’ve never seen Hayden so wrapped up in anything besides his art.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

Cassie gave me a sad smile. “I’m not going to pretend I know your story, Tenley, but I do know Hayden carries around his past with him and it’s a burden he can’t unload. Be patient with him. Whatever the problem is, it’s clear he wants to set it right.”

“I just need some time to figure things out,” I said.

“Fair enough. Did you need me to relay that message?”

“If you think it would help.”

* * *

On Tuesday, Nate picked Cassie up early, so I was on my own for the last few hours of the night. Hayden didn’t stop in, giving me the reprieve I asked for, even though I wasn’t sure it was what I wanted. The hours until closing seemed endless. I watched the door, waiting for Hayden’s patience to give out. It didn’t. I could see Jamie and Chris through the window, working on clients. Hayden and Lisa were nowhere to be found.

After locking up, I went straight home and changed into comfy clothes so I wouldn’t give in to the urge to go over to Inked Armor. The kitten gave a groggy little mew when I tossed my shirt and bra on the bed and pulled on my favorite hoodie.

“Hi, baby girl.” I gave her a little scratch under the chin and she started to purr. “Did you have a good day? Are you hungry?” I made a quick trip to the kitchen for her milk. As an afterthought, I grabbed a few articles, some highlighters and a pen so I could work on my thesis while I hung out with her in my bedroom. It seemed to be her favorite place to sleep. When she had enough milk, she snuggled into me, her wet nose tickling my neck. I settled back against the pillows, stroking her soft fur as I read and scribbled notes in the margins.

I was on the last page when a knock at the door startled me. I tossed the article onto the nightstand, capped the pen and settled the kitten back on the bed where I’d found her, glad Sarah was home early. She always had an answer when it came to men, usually accompanied by a dose of cynicism. I turned the dead bolt but forgot about the chain latch above. In the narrow gap stood not Sarah but Hayden, holding a six-pack of beer and a bag.

I didn’t want to be happy to see him. “How did you get up here?”

He dangled a key and quickly jammed it in his pocket. “Helps when you know the landlady.” He ran a finger along the chain barring his entrance. “Can I come in?”

I unlocked the chain latch but stood in the doorway, keeping him in the hall. “What’s up?”

“You’re not going to let me in?”

“Why should I? So you can get me all hot and bothered, only to leave all over again?” I couldn’t believe I said that.

“I got you hot?” Hayden asked, looking rather pleased.

I tried to shut the door, but his arm shot through the gap.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I just want to talk.”

“Last time you just wanted cupcakes.”

He latched onto the inside of the doorframe. “Please? Come on, Tenley, I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Fine. Whatever.” My anger masked my embarrassment as I recalled what Hayden’s not-so-good behavior felt like. I couldn’t avoid him forever. Not if I still wanted him as my artist. Better to deal with the situation on my turf than his. The art was secondary, though. I needed his proximity more than I needed the tattoo. Not that I would tell him. I opened the door and moved aside to let him in.

“Nice outfit.” His eyes traveled down and stopped below my knees. “Are those leg warmers?”

“Do you have a problem with them?” I asked, nervous now that the door no longer created a barrier of safety. I had no idea how to approach this.

“Not at all, but you probably wouldn’t need them if you were a little more covered up.”

I was wearing shorts. The leg warmers covered my calves. “Is my artless skin offensive?”

“Hardly. My life would be a lot easier if that was the case.”

“Why are you here? Other than to comment on my choice of sleepwear.”

“That’s what you wear to bed?”

“Why would what I wear to bed matter to you?”

He tapped his temple. “It helps with the . . . never mind. I brought some stuff for TK, and I thought maybe we could have a beer or something.”

“TK?”

“The Kitten.”

He walked around me, put the beer on the counter, and emptied the contents of the bag. There were treats, kitten milk, and a bunch of toys. Hayden sorted the toys and treats into neat piles. He was thoughtful, which frustrated me more.

I walked around the breakfast bar, putting the counter between us. I needed the distance. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” He slid a beer across the counter toward me. When I reluctantly took the bottle, he twisted off the cap. I tipped it back, swallowed, and waited.

“You avoided me yesterday.”

He was right. I didn’t respond.

“And you didn’t come by the shop today like you were supposed to.”

“And you’re surprised because—”

“I don’t know why Lisa thought I could do this. I really suck at this shit,” he said, more to himself than to me. “Look, I should be sorry about what happened the last time I was here, but I’m not, and that’s a problem.”

That was not at all what I expected to hear. “I’m not quite following.”

He shifted, looking uncomfortable. “We have this rule at the shop, and it’s pretty much the only one I ever try to follow. I don’t sleep with clients.”

I couldn’t imagine Hayden sleeping with anyone. I could imagine him doing other things, though. Inside I was flipping out at his inference. The way Hayden was talking, it sounded like he wanted to take it a lot further than the kiss. He was standing in the exact same place he’d been in two nights ago. Except I was on the wrong side of the counter, which made the speculation impossible to confirm.

“Last time I checked, making out isn’t quite the same thing,” I said, maintaining a neutral expression.

“Sorry. Let me clarify. I don’t fuck around with clients.”

“What constitutes ‘fucking around’?”

Hayden’s lip twitched. “What happened when I was here last constitutes fucking around.”

“Right.” I took another sip. I was pushing him on purpose; because I was hurt, because I wanted more and he was telling me in no uncertain terms I couldn’t have him. My natural inclination was to find a way around it. What he offered was so much more than just ink on my skin and the solace of his touch. “So just to make sure I’m completely clear about this, kissing and groping are facets of fucking around.”

“Can you stop saying that?”

“Stop saying what?”