He’d been right. Lunch was as busy as Ox had predicted. Which was good! But not when she wanted desperately to get a little more alone time with a certain tattoo artist who was currently inking a baby name on a guy’s shoulder.

“Number five, huh?” Ox murmured. “You must be a busy guy.”

“My wife’s busier.” The man laughed. “But yeah. We have fun. Ten years, five kids.”

Emmie glanced over at Ox’s corner. His client had his shirt off and his hairy chest and belly were attracting a few glances from her customers, but no one seemed offended. Ox had offered to put up the privacy screen, but the man said it wasn’t necessary. It was one of those things that Emmie hadn’t thought about before they started. She wasn’t concerned about men taking their shirts off in the bookstore, but she’d forgotten some of her customers might not feel the same way.

Luckily the general mood seemed to be curiosity and not disapproval. Two of her grandmother’s old customers had wandered over and were watching the tattoo.

“Ladies,” Ox said with a nod.

“Does it hurt?” one asked.

“A little,” the client said. “I’m used to it now.”

“Doris, you should get your granddaughter’s name on your arm like this man.” The older lady leaned toward Ox and his client. “She’s much more daring than I am.”

Ox looked up and caught Emmie’s eye, winking at her before he turned back to his client and wiped off his shoulder. “Luis, you’re done. I’ll see you again in a couple of years.”

“I hope not!” the man said while Ox smeared some gel over the new ink and covered it with a light bandage, giving the man the basic spiel about aftercare.

Emmie scanned the shop and the sidewalk outside. Guessing she’d have at least a few minutes of quiet, she went to check what Tayla was up to. She was back in the office, her glasses on and a bright red pencil stuck in her hair as she scanned the computer and made notes with a different red pencil on a notepad. “Hey, hussy.”

Emmie leaned against the doorjamb. “Will you stop?”

“What was he doing on the couch? You still haven’t answered me. If that man gave me a hickey on my neck, he would not be sleeping on the couch.”

Emmie adjusted the collar of her shirt. It was a very faint bruise, but it was there. She hadn’t noticed the night before. “He said he likes to take his time. Something about anticipation and teasing making things better.”

“So he’s cock-blocking himself?” Tayla’s head fell back. “Why is that so hot?”

Emmie had to agree. It was hot. And frustrating. She’d been thinking about him all morning, which wasn’t making work easier. She’d mis-shelved an entire shipment of adult romance in the YA fantasy section.

“I can’t stop thinking about him,” she whispered, sitting in the chair across from the desk. “This is nuts. I’m nuts. I’m being stupid. We both are, and this is going to mess everything up. I should just tell him to forget last night even happened.”

Tayla narrowed her eyes. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Of course I don’t! But how can this end well?”

Tayla pursed her lips. “You were the one talking about marriage and babies and all that the other night. Maybe this guy is the one. The real deal. Your one true love. The happily-ever-after in your own personal romance novel, baby.”

Emmie rolled her eyes. “It is way too soon to talk about that.”

“And it’s way too soon to talk about breaking up with a guy that you’re just starting out with,” Tayla said. “You’ve been dancing around each other for weeks. You’ve gone through a store renovation together. You work well together professionally. Just give it a chance, Em. You don’t know what might happen. Besides, as much as you work, where else were you going to meet anyone?” Tayla snorted. “Or were you going to give in to the predictable and go on a date with Adrian Saroyan?”

Adrian Saroyan. Emmie’s eyes went wide. “Shit.”

Tayla shrugged. “Who says he’s even going to finish that book? It’s been what? Three weeks or something?”

“Not everyone binge-reads like we do.”

“Three weeks, Emmie. If he was motivated, he’d already have read it. Ox would have read it by now.”

Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall. Ox poked his head in. “Did I hear my name? Emmie, you’ve got a customer in front.”

Tayla asked, “How long would it take you to read a three-hundred-page book?”

“Three hundred pages of what?”

“Jane Austen.”

Ox shrugged. “I don’t know. A couple days? I’ve already read them all though. My mom made me.”

“Sense and Sensibility?” Emmie asked.

“Colonel Brandon’s the man,” Ox said. “But Edward is boring as shit.” He nodded toward the door. “Customer.”

Emmie hopped up and slipped out the door, but Ox grabbed her hand before she could make it down the hall. He pulled her back, tilted her chin up, and kissed her quickly before he let her go.

“Been wanting to do that all day,” he said quietly.

The kiss sent a buzz of energy through her, but Emmie turned and walked down the hallway without a word. She had a customer. Ox wasn’t her boyfriend. Was he?

If he wasn’t her boyfriend, what was he?

She had no idea. Was this just a hookup for him? They hadn’t defined anything. Did he even believe in monogamy? That wasn’t something she’d been able to assume in San Francisco. Of course, this was Metlin, which was still pretty traditional.

But Metlin had changed! Maybe monogamy wasn’t a given anymore.

Was there an alternative-relationship scene in Metlin?

Is this what Ox would classify as “freaking the fuck out?”

The young woman standing in the shop had a clutch of mysteries under her arm and was staring at the biography section.

“Hi,” Emmie said. “Did you have any questions about a book?”

“A couple, actually.”

“Thank God.”

She closed up her side of INK at seven p.m., leaving Ox with two clients, one in the chair and the other waiting. She ate dinner in front of her iPad, watched reruns of Doctor Who, and ignored the voices below her. Sometime around eleven, she nodded off on the couch only to wake to a sharp rap on her door.

Emmie sat up, rubbing her eyes and wondering why Tayla was knocking. She must have forgotten her key again.

“Who is rapping, rapping on my chamber door?” Emmie unpinned the crooked bun on top of her head as she pulled open the door. “Tayla, you’ve got to stop…” Emmie’s eyes went wide. “Hi.”

It was Ox. “Caw.” He tilted his head and stepped into her apartment, putting a hand on her hip. “I should put a raven on you somewhere. Maybe here?” He squeezed her hip. “That would be hot.”

Good God, he understood Poe references and was talking about putting a tattoo needle on her hip.

Marry me. “Or kiss me.” Emmie blinked. “I said that aloud.”

Ox smiled. “Yes, you did.” He walked her backward to the living area and spun around, sitting on the couch and pulling Emmie into his lap. “This is my new favorite make-out position.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, this way I don’t get an ache in my neck when I kiss you.” He leaned in and demonstrated. “See?”

She saw. She saw a little cross-eyed, but she saw. “It’s late. Are you heading home?”

“Yeah, but I just finished and I wanted to say good night. Were you sleeping?”

She nodded. “I’m an old lady.”

“We had a late night yesterday.” He played with the ends of her hair. “This is nice.”

“What?”

“Your hair down. You don’t wear it down very much.”

“It’s gotten really long. I’ve been thinking about cutting it.”

“Don’t.” He smoothed the red-brown waves down her back, playing with the ends that fell just at the small of her back. “It’s sexy as fuck.” Ox nosed under her chin and played his lips over her neck. “You smell good.”

“I smell like dust and paper. I was sorting the used section.”

“Whatever.” He scraped his teeth along her collarbone. “It smells good.”

Emmie shivered. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

“Yes.” He kissed her, sucking on her bottom lip. “Were you freaking out today?”

“A little.”

“Where are we going on our first date?”

“I don’t know.” Emmie could barely think. He was doing it again. Distracting her. Seducing her. His warm hands were playing with her hair, twisting the weight of it in his hand and pulling her head back to expose her throat. “We could… could go to dinner.”

“Boring. No movies either unless we watch them here and I can kiss you during the boring parts.”

Emmie smiled and put her hands on his cheeks, pulling his face up to meet his eyes. “So what do you want to do?”

“I want… to go for a hike. Or go riding. Do you ride?”

“Horses or motorcycles?”

“Horses.”

Emmie shook her head. “I don’t hike either.”

Ox frowned. “Do you walk?”

“Not often in a straight line. Hence no hiking.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll hold your hand. Come hiking with me. We can do something simple.”

“It’s cold in the mountains.”

He hitched her closer and pressed their bodies together. “Don’t you trust me to keep you warm?”

Emmie could barely talk. She nodded and Ox kissed her again. He stroked her lips with leisurely attention, his kiss lazy and indulgent. She could hear him humming in the back of his throat, and her thighs clenched around his hips.

“Hiking it is. Your next day off. If I have any clients, I’ll reschedule them.” Ox slipped his large hands in the back pockets of her jeans and squeezed. “I like your ass.”

Emmie smiled. “It’s big.”

“It’s not.”

“I just mean in proportion to the rest of me, it’s kind of—”

“Emmie.” Ox pulled away and looked at her with deadly serious eyes. “There is no such thing as an ass too big. It’s very important you understand that.” He squeezed again for emphasis.

She pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t laugh. “I understand.”

“Good.” He slapped her butt teasingly. “I’d hate to have to repeat this discussion.”

“Liar.” Emmie draped her arms over his shoulders, relaxing against him. “You’d love to repeat this discussion.”

“Caught me.” One hand stayed on her ass while the other slid up the side of her body, cupping her breast in his hand. “We could always try variations.” His thumb swept over her nipple.

Emmie’s mouth fell open. “I’d hate for you to get bored.”

“Not possible.” He pulled back, and Emmie opened her eyes.

The look in his gaze told her too much. It was raw and a little confused. The confidence had fallen away, and Ox looked at her with a focused intensity that scared Emmie to death.

He blinked. “Tell me you’re staying in Metlin.”

“I reopened the shop, didn’t I?”

“That’s not a yes.”

A tiny part of her hesitated. In the back of her mind, Adrian’s offer still hung. He could rent out the building, find her solid tenants that would allow her to choose a different line of work. She could sell the building and move anywhere she wanted. Did she really want to stay in Metlin for the rest of her life?

Ox rested a hand at the base of her throat. “Are you staying?”

“Yes.” Had she said that out loud?

“Good.” He fell on her mouth with a hunger so intense it took her breath away.

Emmie pulled at his T-shirt, yanking it up and over his head so she could put her hands on him. Her fingers skimmed over his shoulders, down his chest, scratching at the hard points of his nipples before her fingernails trailed down his abdomen. Ox didn’t let her up to breathe. He shifted until her hand fell on the swell of his erection beneath his jeans. She stroked over the button fly and he hissed, grabbing her wrist and holding it there as he arched into her hand.

He groaned and fisted his hand in her hair, yanking her head back as he scraped his teeth along her jaw. “Sweet,” he muttered. “You’re so fucking sweet.”

“Ox.”

He arched into her hand again, holding her palm pressed to his jeans for a searing moment before he brushed her hand away and cupped her cheeks in his hands. “You know it’s killing me to wait.”

“So don’t.” Emmie’s need was as raging as his even if it wasn’t as evident.

“But it’s gonna be so good,” he whispered, biting her earlobe. “Want to know why?”

Emmie dug her fingers into his chest and gripped his thighs between her own. “Why?”

“Because you have a very good imagination.”