Abiding Ink (Inked in the Steel City #4) (8 page)

The thought filled him with confusion and a potent jealousy that lay hot and heavy in his gut. Mallory, in a booth at Hot Ink, ignoring him?

It didn’t make sense. Maybe she’d been in the restroom. Then again, the thought that she’d just happened to be strolling by Hot Ink and had stopped in for a bathroom break seemed pretty ridiculous too. His attempts at deduction raced around and crashed inside his head, presenting him with one bizarre but obvious conclusion: she wanted to be tattooed at Hot Ink – maybe she already
had
been tattooed – but not by him. And she didn’t want him to know about it.

The thought made him feel vaguely sick. But maybe he was wrong. Somehow, for some reason, maybe Mallory hadn’t been avoiding him on purpose. As she strode down the sidewalk, he climbed back out of his car, his heart weighing somewhere deep in his chest like an anchor. No matter what he told himself, preparing to approach her made him want to brace himself, as if a blow was coming.

Standing on the blacktop, beside his car, his breath fogged the air in front of his face. Snowflakes pelted through the cloud that obscured his vision, allowing him to entertain hope that he’d somehow gotten things wrong, that the woman who looked like Mallory was in fact only a beautiful stranger.

He crossed most of the distance between them in just a few strides, a consequence of being tall. Before he knew it he was close enough to speak, not shout. “Mallory?”

She jumped like she’d been shocked, turning and nearly slipping in the fine powder of snow that had swirled across the sidewalk.

He reached out instinctively, catching her by her upper arm, feeling the solidness of her limb beneath the downy softness of her coat sleeve. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Her eyes were wide and reflected the blue neon glow of Hot Ink’s sign, along with obvious surprise.

“It’s okay,” she said after a moment. “I just wasn’t expecting to run into you here.”

“Where I work?” She must’ve known he wasn’t scheduled to be in the shop that evening. The look in her eyes drove that truth home. Another nail in the coffin.

“Yeah. I… I came here to see Abby.” She met his eyes, but her full lips turned down in a nervous little frown.

Tyler swept his gaze over her, taking in the black yoga pants she wore beneath her coat. Stretchy and soft, they’d be gentle against freshly-tattooed skin – much better than jeans. The thin fabric wouldn’t guard much against winter’s chill, either. Certainty swept through his chest like an avalanche – she’d gone in for a tattoo. “Abby did some work for you?”

Mallory nodded.

Tyler tried to ignore the shard of envy that lanced through him. Choosing an artist was a personal decision, and he had no right to expect Mallory to skew her judgment or desires for his sake. Besides, all the Hot Ink artists had different styles, different specialties.

Though he was versatile, Tyler considered black and grey work a specialty of his. Abby, on the other hand, embraced intricate color and definitely leant her work a graceful feminine touch. Mallory wouldn’t be the first female client to feel more comfortable being tattooed by another woman. He knew all this, and still…

His inner five year old was tempted to go off and pout somewhere in a dark corner of his mind. He tried not to let that show on his face as he studied Mallory’s. “How did it go – did you finish up in one session, or will you be back?”

“It only took one session. I’m a little sore, but the tattoo turned out even better than I expected.”

It wasn’t the fact that Mallory hadn’t chosen to trust him to do her tattoo – it was the fact that she hadn’t mentioned it to him. “Did you not want me to know about it?” He hated playing guessing games, so he just asked. She looked so uncomfortable – it was obvious she hadn’t wanted to be caught.

She breathed a long sigh, and her breath clouded in front of her lips, forming a misty fog. “No, to be honest I didn’t. I knew you wouldn’t be working today, and I wasn’t planning to tell you about my appointment. Not any time soon, anyway. This must seem so weird… I’m sorry if it seems like I was avoiding you. Believe me, it was nothing personal.”

Nothing personal? His mind reeled as he tried to make sense of that remark, to imagine how it could
not
be personal.

“I’m just surprised that you decided to get tattooed at Hot Ink and didn’t mention it to me.” Abby was a mother of infant twins and also worked as a book illustrator – she only tattooed on a part-time basis and usually stayed booked out at least a month ahead of time. It was surprising that she’d fit Mallory in so quickly, especially if Mallory really hadn’t heard of Hot Ink until Tyler had told her about the place. She must have really wanted the appointment – the tattoo.

“I didn’t want you to know,” she replied, dark eyes still shining in the blue light. “The tattoo was a cover-up job.”

Ah, Abby’s specialty.

“So you were never going to tell me you’d been tattooed at Hot Ink? Surely your old tattoo wasn’t
that
bad.”

Mallory shook her head. “Oh yes it was. I’ve been embarrassed by it for years, but when I met you… Well, you’re a tattoo artist. Your tattoos look fantastic, and so does your portfolio. I couldn’t stand the thought of you finding out about my old tattoo. When you told me about Hot Ink I checked out the website and saw that Abby specializes in cover-ups. As soon as I saw that I knew I finally had to do something about the dumb decision I’d been living with since 19.”

Tyler held back a sigh. He was so damn relieved it was almost impossible to do, but he didn’t want her to think he thought her decision was dumb. “It never occurred to me that you already had a tattoo. Was it just the one?” He’d spent plenty of time imagining her naked, but he’d always pictured her as a blank canvas of unmarked skin, figuring that given his profession, she would’ve mentioned any ink.

“Yeah, the tattoo Abby just finished is only my second ever.” She grimaced. “I’m going to pretend it’s my first. Not many people are in on my embarrassing little secret and I’d like to keep it that way.”

That made him wonder exactly where she was tattooed. Not on an arm, lower leg or foot – he would’ve seen any ink there. Which meant her new ink was lurking somewhere beneath the layers of her clothing, in a more personal area. The idea left him semi-hard. He had no idea what had been so embarrassing about her old tattoo, but Abby had done the cover-up – it was bound to look good, no matter what it hid.

More breath rushed from between Mallory’s lips, misty against the night air. “God, this is so embarrassing. It’s not how I imagined my little secret mission going at all.” Even her nervous laughter sounded good to his ears.

“Sorry to blow your cover. I was just dropping off some art for Jed to display in the shop.”

“I know. I heard you come in from where I was lying in Abby’s booth, then I heard you talking to Jed… I about died of embarrassment. I was so afraid you’d see me.”

“You’re really making me wonder about this old tattoo. Is it the ink that was so embarrassing, or wouldn’t you have wanted me to see the location?” That idea leant fuel to the fire of his lust as he pictured the places where her tattoo might be. The yoga pants suggested that it was definitely somewhere intimate, and his jeans felt a little too tight around the crotch when he let his mind wander in that direction.

Mallory responded with a shy smile, and for a few silent seconds, he was honestly afraid that the suspense might kill him. Was it possible to die of an overactive imagination? Maybe not. An overdose of unsatisfied desire, on the other hand…

“Let’s just say it was a bad tattoo in a kind of personal place,” she finally said, breaking eye contact and shuffling the tip of one shoe in the snow, drawing a messy line. “I’d show you Abby’s work, but it’d be pretty weird if I peeled down my pants in the middle of the sidewalk.”

Damn. His head practically exploded as he replayed her words in his mind, making sure he’d heard right.

“We could— Never mind.” He bit his tongue before he could say something stupid, even as visions of enticing her back to his personal booth inside Hot Ink danced through his mind. He would’ve given anything – anything – for a minute of privacy, just then. Yeah, over the past several years he’d tattooed just about every part of the human body imaginable, both male and female…

But this was Mallory, and the mystery lurking beneath the skin-tight cover of her yoga pants was killing him.

“Hey, I was thinking,” she said, her voice slipping into his thoughts, disrupting them only momentarily before entwining with them, becoming a part of his fantasies. “Want to get a cup of coffee?” She tipped her head toward the café across the street. “It’s cold out here and I was thinking about grabbing a latte or something.”

Inside his head, she asked him whether he wanted to go somewhere much more private than a café. He’d settle for coffee though – anything to spend time with her. He just wished he had a bulkier jacket – something with a warm, thick lining, like hers – to hide the bulge inside his jeans. The bright lighting inside the café would reveal all, and his plain leather jacket hit at his hips, doing him no good as far as erection concealment went.

“Yeah. Let me just, uh, grab some cash I left in my car. It’ll only take a minute.”

He had maybe a dollar in change – mostly pennies and nickels – in one of the cup holders in his vehicle. He didn’t need it for coffee, but he went and scooped up a handful of coins anyway, dumping them into his wallet. All the while, he thought about snow. Cold. Cold showers.
Freezing
cold showers. Anything but Mallory and her mystery ink. By the time he made it back to the sidewalk where she waited, he’d softened a little.

They walked into the shop together. “So, is it all right if I buy you a coffee?” he asked, remembering their lunch date as they approached the counter.

“Don’t feel like you have to. This was my idea, after all.”

“I want to. Just wanted to make sure I didn’t offend your feminist sensibilities.”

She smiled.

He took that as a good sign and handed over a few dollars after the barista rang them up. When they had their drinks, they chose a table by the window, where Hot Ink’s neon light shone from across the street, casting the snowfall in bright blue.

“I was going to call you tonight,” Tyler said.

“Did it have anything to do with Jed’s New Year’s party?”

He must have looked taken aback.

“I was eavesdropping from Abby’s booth, remember?”

“Yeah. I was going to ask you if you’d come to the party with me – assuming things have gotten better for your mom. I also wanted to ask you about work… How did things go with your boss?” He narrowly stopped himself from referring to the guy as Dr. Asshat, the name that frequented his private thoughts.

“Dr. Anthony? It was awkward seeing him on my first day back at work.” She frowned and took a sip of her latte. “You’ll be glad to know that he eventually apologized, though. He said he felt he’d crossed a professional boundary and was sorry. Between you and me, I think you scared him.”

Tyler took a sip of his own coffee – black, medium roast – as her words sank in. “He didn’t strike me as the type to say sorry.”

“Well, you know, faced with the threat of my tattooed delinquent of a boyfriend…” She tipped her head to one side, her expression teasing. “He probably thought he’d better play it safe. Although if I were you I wouldn’t volunteer to deliver meals to his patients. Maybe stick to helping out in another part of the hospital, or the gift shop, if you want to come back at all.”

Boyfriend. Having that word thrown at him was a hell of a lot better than anything he’d expected when he’d seen Mallory walking out of Hot Ink. Was she only joking or did she see them that way – as a couple?

He hoped she did, and not just because he wanted to see what was hidden beneath her yoga pants. Exhaling, he felt tension go out of his spine, his bones.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, eyes glittering as she met his from across the table.

“I was afraid I might’ve gotten you in trouble at work. Figured you might be pissed at me. When I saw you walking out of Hot Ink, I kind of lost all hope.”