“I THINK I’M GONNA CALL it a night, man. We knew I’d need another session, so you cool with stopping now?”
My client’s question was the best thing I could imagine him asking. “Your call.”
He grinned. “What kind of guy would I be if I kept you down here working when you’ve got that sweet thing upstairs waiting for you? A shit guy, that’s what kind.”
I could try to pretend I hadn’t been thinking about Eden since the second I’d walked back into the room. “It’s up to you.”
He lifted his arm. “Just wrap me up, and I’ll give you my money and get out of your way.”
“Sounds good. Let me make sure I’ve got you down for the second session and see if I need to block out more time.”
I taped the wrap around the partially completed tattoo and snapped off my gloves again before tossing them in the trash.
After taking care of shit at the counter, I locked up the shop after he left and hustled back to my room to clean everything up faster than I’d ever done before.
My client was right that I’d never had quite the incentive like I did now.
Eden was upstairs, and I was still figuring out how I was going to let this play out. I’d never wanted a woman the way I wanted her, but I wasn’t rushing things. Now that I’d let myself start considering the possibility of something that lasted beyond a night, everything had changed.
I flipped off the lights and opened the door to upstairs. I paused at the bottom of the stairs, listening for the sound of water, but heard nothing. Taking them two at a time, I reached the top and opened the door. Steam wafted from the open bathroom door, but I didn’t see Eden when I looked inside.
I froze on the threshold of my bedroom. She faced away from me as she pulled a T-shirt over her head, covering her naked skin inch by inch.
Fuck.
When it dropped to cover her rounded ass, I wanted nothing more than to stride forward and lift it up again.
I wasn’t sure if I’d breathed too loud or what, but Eden spun around.
“Uh . . . I borrowed a shirt.” And she did. White, with the Voodoo Ink logo on the front. The water from her skin and hair was already making it see-through in spots.
I had to clear my throat to find my voice. “I see that. You hungry?”
“Yes.” The glint in her dark eyes betrayed the fact that she wasn’t just hungry for food, but something still held me back. I could stride across the threshold and have her under me in that bed, but it didn’t feel right. I didn’t want her to think that was the only reason I asked her to come up here. I’d never been in this situation, so I had to play it by ear.
“Then you’re in luck because tonight you’re gonna have killer shrimp stir-fry. You like seafood, right?”
Eden nodded, keeping the smile pinned to her face, but it didn’t quite cover her disappointment.
Don’t worry, cupcake. You’re gonna get what you need. I don’t have it in me to wait too much longer.
She followed me out of the bedroom and into the living area, and I nodded toward the old turntable on top of the entertainment system. “Go flip through the vinyl and pick something.”
My collection was one of the things I’d always figured would suck to leave when I moved on, because I traveled light. Now that the possibility of staying in New Orleans was taking root, everything in me was lighter with a sense of relief.
I pulled open the fridge and grabbed the bowl of shrimp that had been thawing since noon, and a container of cooked rice. I was rinsing the shrimp when the sound of Louis Armstrong came on.
Footsteps padded into the kitchen, and I looked over my shoulder. “Nice choice. A favorite of mine.”
“I figured since it looked like it was near the top of the stack. I’ve always liked Louis too.”
“You want to help? It’s not required, but if you’re in the mood to chop vegetables, I could use a hand.”
A flash of uncertainty crossed her face. “I’m a terrible cook. Like honestly terrible. So if you don’t care what the vegetables look like, then I’m happy to help. If you care what they look like, you might not want my knife-wielding skills.”
“Grab the celery and carrots out of the fridge and go to town. They don’t have to be pretty.”
“Aye aye, captain.”
We worked in companionable silence for several minutes before Eden spoke.
“You don’t have a New Orleans accent. Where are you from?”
I kept my focus on deveining the shrimp as I rinsed each one. “A little bit of everywhere. I started out in the east and ended up down south.”
“What kept you moving?”
“A whole lot of things. Long story, not always pretty. Guess you could call me a wanderer.”
Eden paused in her chopping for a moment before saying, “Most stories aren’t always pretty. That’s what gives them true beauty. I’ve always wanted to wander.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t exactly have the option.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged. “Another long story. Not so pretty. Mostly, my father wouldn’t allow it.”
I finished up the shrimp and grabbed a big pan from the cupboard. “And did you always do what your father said?”
Eden’s voice quieted. “I couldn’t ignore his orders and get away with it.”
“Tough guy?”
“When he was around. The rest of the time my aunt raised me, or I was by myself.”
“What was she like?”
“Fine. She was my father’s half sister and didn’t seem to have a whole lot of love for him. But he paid for her life, so it wasn’t like she could do anything but be passive-aggressive about it when he wasn’t around. Which was most of the time.”
With each piece she revealed, I got a clearer idea of why Eden seemed so sheltered and yet wanted to see the world and be a part of it.
“Anyway, that’s all boring. Tell me about you.”
I poured oil in the skillet before moving across the kitchen to rest a palm on the counter on either side of Eden. “How are the vegetables coming?”
I glanced down at the pile on the cutting board and leaned closer. The veggies looked like they’d been hacked to pieces, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. No, it was the scent of my shampoo on Eden’s hair. I leaned closer and breathed it in. I liked it. A whole fucking lot.
“It was a massacre,” she said with a laugh, laying the knife on the counter and turning around to face me. In the circle of my arms, Eden smiled up at me. “No survivors.”