It’s been three days since that group of guys came in for ink. It’s also been three days since I’ve done another tattoo. I’ve been cleaning the shop and taking appointments for everyone else. Does Uncle Corey not trust me? Did Bianca say something to him?

Maybe that Jake guy called and complained about the surprise tattoo I gave him. If that’s the case, I’ll gladly accept any consequences my uncle deems appropriate. That moron should have had an idea of what he wanted considering it’s permanent. And…he could have maybe been a little less cocky.

I see guys like that come into the shop all the time. The ones who think they are invincible and can do whatever they want. But there’s something about Jake in particular that I can’t shake. Even though he was trying to be charming, keyword on trying, he seemed haunted. Like he lost a part of himself or doesn’t know exactly what he wants.

That’s the only reason I can come up with as to why I’m thinking about him three days later. That’s not normal for me. I date, but I don’t get serious with anyone. My focus right now is to become a badass tattooist in the shop my uncle built from the ground up. We aren’t overly famous like some of the shops in this area, but we’re known for doing damn good work.

That’s why entertaining any thoughts of some random guy is not a good idea. It would be a distraction from my goals. I’ve seen so many people throw away their wants for the person they loved, and I’m not doing that. I won’t allow myself to be sidetracked. I quit college because it got in the way of earning my hours as an apprentice. Something I fear I’ll always be if my uncle doesn’t give me more clients.

I turn around, lean my back against the counter and study the shop. It’s grown from what it used to be. My uncle was the only artist in here when he first opened it. I remember the weekends my parents would let me stay with Corey and Annie. The long nights when Annie would bring pizza by the shop because I wanted to spend my time here. I’m sure my mom wasn’t thrilled with me spending all my time in a tattoo shop, but Dad couldn’t deny that his brother is talented.

This is where my love of art began, and it’s apparent with all my sketches my uncle has pinned to the wall in his work station. He’s always fostered my talents, which is why I don’t understand why he won’t move me from apprentice to tattooist.

The bell on the door dings pulling me out of my thoughts. I know who it is before I turn around. I met this guy once, I should not be this aware of him.

I school my features, trying to come off as indifferent, but I don’t think I pull it off. “Back for more surprise tattoos?”

“So, you remember me?” He smirks.

Ugh, why does that smirk cause butterflies to flutter in my stomach? I should be annoyed by his overabundance of confidence, but I’m not. This guy needs to get out of my life before I do something horrible…like fall for him.

I smile sweetly, “How could I forget? It’s not often I ink Patrick or pretzels on anyone.” Or, put ink on anyone at all. But, he doesn’t need to know that.

Jake scrunches his eyebrows together, studying me. Maybe my smile came off as less sweet and more maniacal. That works, too. Maybe it’ll warn him off from chasing me. If that’s even what he’s doing. I’m getting way ahead of myself.

That’s when I notice the guy standing next to him, the level-headed sober one from the other night. His name starts with an M. Malcolm, Mark…

I look down at the counter where the appointment book is spread open. Oh, Marshall. That’s his name. It’s written in the three o’clock space next to Bianca’s name in her loopy handwriting.

Frowning, I look at it again. I’ve been here all week and I haven’t received any calls from him to schedule an appointment. That means he must have called Bianca directly. It’s not technically against the rules, but Corey likes all the calls to come through the front desk so that he can keep up with what calls are coming in for each artist.

A throat clears, and I glance up. Marshall is standing really close to the counter now. “Is there a problem?”

“Uh, no.” I shake my head. “I just didn’t realize Bianca had any appointments before tonight.”

Marshall’s cheeks brighten to a nice shade of pink. “Yeah,” he stammers. “She, um, gave me her phone number when we were here last time.”

My mouth drops open. She doesn’t do that, like ever. I wonder what it was about this guy, who is a lot younger than her, that peaked her interest.

“Okay, then,” I reply. “You know where her station is. Nobody is in there right now, so go on back.”

Jake doesn’t follow his friend back toward the stations. Instead, he leans against the counter as if he has nothing better to do. There’s no denying it. He’s a good-looking guy. Lean and muscular from what I can see through the fabric of his shirt. Jeans sitting perfectly on his narrowed hips.

I casually lean to the left to get a view of his butt. I can’t help it. I need to see if his ass is a nice as the rest of him. Just because he rubs me the wrong way doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate his physique. If I had to guess, I’d say this guy definitely plays sports.

Lifting my gaze to his face, his eyes on locked on me. One eyebrow lifted higher than the other in amusement. “Like something you see?”

I shrug. “Not really.”

He jerks back in mock disbelief. His hand covering his chest like I’ve just wounded him. “Are you sure?”

“Yep,” I reply, shuffling papers around. “Douchey jocks don’t really do it for me.”

“How did you know I play sports?”

“It was an educated guess. You have the build of an athlete.” I don’t know why I’m indulging him. He has “bad decision” written all over him. It may as well be inked across his forehead. Come to think of it, that could be my next surprise tattoo for him.

No, not next. I don’t need him coming in the shop after this anymore. I look through the appointment book to see who has a client coming in soon. “Shouldn’t you be back there with your friend? For moral support or whatever?”