Lost Wishes (18 page)

Lucky sighed, well aware that he’d taken a chance on Rex. Trixie had referred him, and although the girl was an amazing tattoo artist, she could party. Hard. He’d seen her in action and more than a few of those times Rex had been right there with her. Still, Lucky figured he’d give the guy a shot. His work was good. Besides, Lucky knew that judging a book by its cover could bite you real hard in the ass. On a daily basis, a variety of different covers waltzed through the front door of his shops, and most of them ended up being some damn good people. He had hoped that would be the case with Rex.

Tanner, another artist, strolled into the office to start his shift. He pointed his thumb back at the hall with raised eyebrows. “Hey, you guys know what’s goin’ on out there?” He chuckled. “I think that girl just pulled out a can of pepper spray and, dude, she’s got it aimed right at Rex!”

“See!” Sloan threw out her arm and hit a bottle on Lucky’s desk, knocking it over and spilling a puddle of black ink.

Lucky watched  the ink ooze onto the piece of paper that he’d just scrolled the safe combination onto. He read the lucky numbers—
Eight, three, four, six, nine
—one last time before they were engulfed by the blackness. Quickly searching his desk for a pen, he was interrupted by a loud scream that echoed from the hall. “Fuck!” Clenching his fists, he stormed out of the office. He needed to calm down, but instead of counting to the usual ten, he chanted the lock combination in his head.
Eight, three, four, six…

“You bitch!” Rex yelled, holding one hand over his eyes while the other swung recklessly in the air. “You fucking little—”

“Get away from me!” squealed the mousy blonde, aiming the can of pepper spray at Rex, ready to give him another shot if he didn’t back off. 

“Hey! Stop!” Lucky shouted. He really didn’t need this shit right now
.
He took a deep breath, held his hands up in the air, and cautiously approached the crazy chick brandishing the Mace. “What’s going on here?”

“This…” The twenty-something princess cast a vile look at Rex as she swayed back and forth. “This scummmbagggg,” she slurred and stumbled, “was hitting on me and my friend. He just couldn’t take the obvious hint that we aren’t interrressstted, so I decided to show him.”

“Okay, I get that,” Lucky said in a calm voice, lowering his hand as he realized the cute little lush probably wasn’t overreacting. He glanced around. “Where’s your friend? Is she okay?”

“Yeah. She’s still in the recliner back there.” She nodded toward the back room, then glanced over at Tanner and Sloan as they approached. “We weren’t sure if she got up and moved around if it would mess up the wet ink on her hip.”

“Good thinking,” Luck said. It wouldn’t have ruined the tatt, but the last thing Lucky needed was two crazy drunk chicks attacking his employees at his place of business. He glanced over his shoulder. “Tanner, get Rex outta here and help him wash that shit off his face. Sloan, could you please show Miss, uh…” He paused to look at the bobble-head blonde.

“Ma-Marisa.”

“All right, Miss Marisa, you go with Sloan. She’ll take you to the ladies’ room so you can wash that spray off your hands, and I’ll take care of your friend.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry, Marisa,” Lucky said, giving his best kiss-ass smile to his customer. “I know when a girl’s not interested. Your friend will be safe with me. Besides, I own this place, and I guarantee that nothing else unpleasant will happen to either of you here. Sloan will bring you back here once you wash up and settle down.”

His smile must have worked. Marisa lowered the pepper spray. “Okay, but I’ll be right back. It won’t take long for me to wash my hands…and I’ll use this stuff again if I have to.”

“Yes, I understand,” Lucky said as he started for the back room, muttering to himself, “Eight, three, four, six, uh….Damn it! …Nine. That’s it. Eight, three, four, six, nine.”

* * *

With her hip exposed and lying in the stiff recliner, Kaley could barely hear what was going on out in the hall. It was just her luck. The first day she’d set out to ruin her reputation, her best friend, Marisa felt the need to defend it. Nervous about getting the tattoo, Kaley couldn’t really say if the guy was making a pass at either of them. So she wasn’t sure why Marisa had freaked out about it so much. 

One thing was for sure, somehow, she had to get out of the contract her agent had committed her too five years ago, conveniently without her knowledge. Sabotaging her famed name seemed like the best way. Sure, going the “bad-girl” route with a tattoo was a bit rash, but Kaley was desperate.

Getting the tattoo was the start of her sabotage. A belly ring was next. It would’ve been first but she wanted to commit by starting with something permanent. A ring, she could just take that out. Granted the tattoo was on her hip, easy to hide, but when the paparazzi got a hold of the news, it wouldn’t really matter where it was. Next, she planned to dye her dull, brown hair jet black. Then she’d land herself a boyfriend, one that screamed badass, one with tattoos and…

Kaley’s wild imagination somehow morphed into reality when the thoroughbred of badasses waltzed into the room. She blinked like five times, just to be sure she wasn’t still caught up in the fantasies of her sabotaging plans.

The eyeful of stuttering hotness was dressed in a faded black t-shirt, low-slung, dark slacks, and big, black boots. One long, muscular arm draped with tattoos that extended to his wrist. On the other, the artwork stopped just below his sleeve, on his bulging bicep. A chain hung from the belt loop of his pants, and he was wearing some sort of black leather wristband. It was hot. He stood around six feet tall, and every square inch of him screamed badass.

Kaley’s vulnerable body, still laid out on the stiff recliner, instantly reacted to those screams. The guy was bordering on pornographic—sexy, hot, and boldly expressive in every way. Hell, you don’t look like that and not know that you look like that, Kaley surmised, looking him up and down and trying not to drool.

“Hey.” He half-drawled the word as extraordinary, hazel-blue eyes traveled up her responsive body, adding stimulating to his already pornographic persona. “You okay?”

Kaley blinked again and realized he was now standing in front of her. Where had the time gone? Those one to two seconds it had taken him to travel across the room to her had somehow passed without her even knowing it. And what the hell was that awesome smell?

He smiled. It was small but extraordinary, just like the rest of him.

She squirmed in the recliner, accepting that the awesome aroma was coming from him. “Uh…” She clamped her hands on the arms of the recliner and inhaled a little harder to treat her nostrils to another whiff of his intoxicating scent. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.”

“Good. Sorry about Rex. He’s a new employee, and…well…” He lifted an arm and ran a hand through his short, messy hair.

The simple gesture caused his shirt to draw up a bit, and Kaley caught a glimpse of some ink on his stomach—a vision that caused an ache to stir between her legs. She sank into the chair, squeezing her thighs together.

“Let’s just say… he didn’t make it through the probation period,” he finished with another smile.

Suddenly, without warning, the ache between her legs went from stirring to throbbing.
God!
She was such a prude, getting all excited over some guy’s smile, for Christ’s sake.

“Anyway…” His eyes dropped to her mouth, and then lowered back to the unfinished tattoo on her exposed hip. “I won’t charge you for anything today, and we can reschedule you to come back—”

“Reschedule?” That got her to sit up straight in the recliner.

 “Yeah.” He reached for a pencil from the drawer to the left of her.

“I really wanted to get this done today. Can’t you finish it right now?” Her heart was pounding so hard that she could hear her pulse in her ears. It’d taken Kaley everything to talk herself into getting into that stiff recliner. She couldn’t leave now. Knowing herself, she’d probably never have the courage to return.

“Sorry, love,” he gave her his full attention. “It’s policy. We don’t ink anyone who’s under the influence.”

After being stunned momentarily by the sexy way he’d called her “love,” she muttered, “You think I’m drunk?”

Just then, Marisa came stumbling into the room. Badass glanced at her wavering friend. “Yeah. Drunk,” he said with a half-grin.

With her ridiculously high heels click-clacking against the tile floor, Marisa rushed to her side. “Oh, Kaley, I told you this was a bad idea, getting a tattoo. The people who do them…” She glanced disapprovingly at Badass. “The needles…they could be dirty and—”

“Hey now. Hold up right there.” His smooth voice turned harsh. “Our needles aren’t dirty. I run a clean place here,” he growled.

The primitive sound of his reaction to the insult kick-started the throb between Kaley’s legs again. Even pissed off, the guy oozed hotness.

“You had better hope so,” Marisa said, putting a hand on her hip. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with here, and—”

“Marisa!” Kaley finally snapped. She knew she had to keep her friend quiet long enough to convince the guy to finish her tattoo, and the only way to do that was to get her out of the room. “Gimme a few minutes, okay?” she asked sweetly, then gestured with her eyes to the door.

“Oh, hell no! Owner or not, I’m not leaving you alone with this guy again.”

“I’m a big girl, Marisa. He’s been nothing but professional. Really, I’ll be fine. Please?” She gave her friend a firm get-your-ass-out-of-here look. “Just wait in the lounge for me. You can take my purse and pay the bill,” she said, trying to get rid of her friend while also making it known that she wasn’t about to leave without what she’d come for— a paid-in-f, completed tattoo.

Marisa huffed and stomped a heel on the floor, but she eventually gave in. She grabbed Kaley’s purse, rolled her eyes at Badass and then at her friend, then wobbled out of the room, mumbling something in a series of slurs under her breath.

Badass shook his head and let out a low whistle. “Why do you put up with that?”

“She’s not that bad. Her boyfriend dumped her today, and—”

“Hmm. I wonder why,” he retorted with an adorable smirk. 

Kaley ignored the sarcastic remark. “She took it pretty hard. When I picked her up, she’d already polished off one bottle of wine and was working on her second.”

“Ah.” He looked at the broken pencil tip, grimaced, and then tapped the useless thing against the palm of his hand. “And you’re sober because, uh…
your
boyfriend didn’t dump
you
today?”

“No,” she said, glaring at him.

His eyebrow arched. “No, you’re not sober?”

“No, I mean, I’m very sober, and…there is no boyfriend.”

A little smile tugged at his lips, and those smoldering eyes of his dropped back to her hip. “Well,” he said, tossing the unusable pencil on the counter, “if we’re gonna do this, your pants need to go. I can’t have them in my way while I work. I’m an artist, and I need…a clutter-free canvas.”

“Wh-what?” she stuttered, wondering if she’d heard him right.

He leaned to the left and opened a drawer. “You can use this to cover yourself, but leave your hip exposed for me.”

Baffled, Kaley just stared at the thin sheet of fabric.

“I’ll turn around,” he said, as if that was going to reassure her.

She shook her head, ridding herself of the baffles to respond. “Let me get this straight. You want me to sit here with no pants on?”

“You’ll be covered.” He rested a hand on the recliner arm and leaned in toward her. “Don’t worry. I do this all the time. It really isn’t out of the norm for customers to lie in front of me in just their panties or bra. I’m a professional.” He shrugged, but he must have caught on to her justifiable reluctance.

It’s not like she was there for a nipple ring—or worse. Still, the idea that she’d have to remove her pants for a hip tattoo had never crossed her mind. That’s why she’d worn shorts.

“Look…” He exhaled and ran a hand over his hair again. “Do you wanna call your friend back in here? Would that make you more comfortable?”

“No,” she said without hesitation, knowing there was no way Marisa would allow her to take her pants off for this guy. Regardless of what Marisa thought, Kaley wasn’t leaving until the tattoo was done, so she had no choice but to remove her shorts. “Just gimme the damn thing and turn around.”

Badass grinned before handing her the sheet. As he offered her his back, he pulled a pair of black surgical gloves out of the drawer.

Kaley swiftly stripped as instructed, tucked her shorts and panties under her leg, situated the sheet over her body, and finally dropped her arms to her side and confidently said, “Okay.”

He twisted around, snapping a latex glove against his wrist. He glanced down at the sheet, lowered his hand to her thigh, and started to inspect the partially finished tattoo.

The second his gloved hand made contact with her body, Kaley began to pant—not inwardly but outwardly. Her breasts rose and fell, and her rapid breaths were all too audible. She was well aware that if she could see and hear her body’s obvious reaction, so could he. 

“Relax, love,” he huskily coaxed, only making matters worse. He looked her right in the eyes, melting her insides to liquid desire. “Just relax. Take long, deep breaths. I know getting a tattoo can be a bit scary, even if it isn’t your first time, but I promise to be gentle.”

Oh God
! Did he really think her embarrassing meltdown was because of the damn tattoo? It was from the close proximity of his hand to her inner thigh—from the calm way he’d said, “Relax,” the reassuring way he’d said, “gentle,” and the way he continued to call her, “love.” The guy was hotness incarnate, and all that oozing sex appeal seemed to be dripping all over her, drenching her between the legs.

Hell, she was probably dripping on the paper draped over the recliner for sanitary purposes. What if she got up and there was a wet spot. She’d die.
Oh, God
. She’d die right there!