Chapter 13

Branna

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I have to force myself to focus as I walk into The Ink Joint. That, in and of itself, is enough of a warning sign. This is what I’ve wanted for as long as I can recall—a chance to show my stuff as a tattoo artist and strike out on my own merit.

Well, okay. Maybe not quite as a tattoo artist, but this is the first step on the way to that. And the fact that a short ride with a handsome man who shows interest in me is enough to distract me and is highly disconcerting. Even if his piercing gaze and unwavering confidence make me feel exposed in a way I don’t completely hate. I need to bring my A-game, and going all boy-crazy and crush-happy isn’t a part of that. I need to keep my frickin’ panties straight and focus.

I take a pause just inside the door, breathe deeply, and collect myself. Show time.

I walk up to the counter. “Hello!” I say. “I’m Branna. I’m here to interview for a position as general assistant.” It’s the same receptionist as yesterday, but she doesn’t seem to recognize me. It just goes to show how much of an impression I made, and chance I had, without Anna-Lynne’s help. Thank the heaven and stars for that sweet godsend of a woman.

“Hi!” she chirps. Today, she deems me worthy of looking up from her desktop screen. She even grants me a smile. “Just give me a minute and I’ll show you around. Are you ready to start working now?”

“Uh,” I stammer, a little confused. I catch myself quickly. “Of course!”

“Great!” she says, beaming at me. “I’m Tamryn, by the way. We’re pretty swamped with appointments this afternoon, so it’s perfect timing. Everyone could really use a hand.” She pauses to type something quickly, then closes a window on her desktop and looks back at me. “We’ll skip the interview. You come with a strong recommendation. You can prove yourself with your work instead. Okay?”

“Works for me!” I think my face is going to split from the force of my grin, but it’s entirely genuine. I’m beyond thrilled. I got the job!

“We always start by washing our hands, no matter what,” says Tamryn, “The last thing we need is someone getting a skin infection and shutting this place down, or shooting our reputation to shit, so we’re really careful about clean needles, clean hands, and clean workspaces. The sink is in the back. Why don’t you head over there right now and do that.”

“Of course,” I nod. I walk to the back, looking at the parlor around me. It’s true;

the place is pretty spotless. While the parlor isn’t in the ritzy part of town and there’s just a water cooler instead of pitchers of spa cucumber water and bottles of bubbly circulated by an attractive server, you can’t say that it’s a grimy place. The wooden floor is a little worn and the paint on the walls clearly isn’t new. In fact, in a few places there are some bricks showing through the paint. It adds character, however, since the mirrors are spotless, the countertops shine, and the instruments are all neatly arranged and sparkling on clean trays. The workspaces are surgically clean, a fact that I admire as I wash my hands thoroughly in the sink at the back of the large room. I would be proud to be a tattoo artist here someday.

“Alright,” says Tamryn, as I rejoin her at the front desk. “You’ll be reporting to me today, but as you settle in, you’ll start working with the guys.” She gestures at the tattoo artists, all setting up shop at their respective workspaces. They’re covered in beautiful ink in all different styles, each with a unique look that works. There are a couple guys and two women working.

“Is this the complete team?” I ask.

“More or less,” answers Tamryn, with a shrug. “There are a few others, but we always have about five artists in the shop. You’ll get to know them with time, but some of our guys are a handful.”

I laugh. “I look forward to meeting everyone.”

“Why don’t you start by cataloging all of our clients from the past year and seeing who hasn’t been in for a while,” says Tamryn, handing me a big binder filled with receipts and sign-in sheets. “When you’re done with that, we’ll get in touch with them and see who’s due for some more work.”

“Thanks,” I say, taking the binder and a blank notebook to start cataloging. I’m pretty busy with that for the rest of the morning, but Tamryn eventually stops me sometime in the early afternoon to grab a bite for lunch across the street at Bennie’s Pizza. We’re sitting in a booth over steaming slices of pepperoni pie when Tamryn gives me a sly smile. 

“So, interesting ride to work today?” she asks.

“What do you mean?” I ask,

“I know that car,” says Tamryn, “Every girl in town knows that car.”

“Oh?” I ask. I try to keep my voice casual.

“So, what’s the story with you and Cooper?” Tamryn winks at me. “New in town and already with the stud, huh?” 

“Oh, we’re not together.” I can tell I’m blushing redder than the pizza sauce on my slice. I take a bite and look down at my table as I chew. “We’re just roommates.”

“With benefits?” Tamryn smirks. “Come on, you know you want to tap that. Who doesn’t?”

“No, we’re just roommates,” I repeat. “So he’s a lady’s man, huh?”

“No more than Casanova.” Tamryn shrugs. “Honestly, it’s more that women throw themselves at Cooper any chance they get than that he actually tries to be suave.” Great. All the more reason to stay far, far, far away from Cooper. 

“Have you seen that body? Have you seen that man fight?” Tamryn seems to have forgotten all about her lunch as she gazes off into the distance in a lusty daydream. “I’m not even an MMA fan chick or anything, but that man makes me want to line up by the cage and throw my bra in the air like the worst of ‘em.”

“I haven’t seen him fight,” I say, not mentioning that I have seen his ridiculously appealing abs and perfect chest. “Is he any good?”

“Is he any good? He’s a fucking beast.” Tamryn shakes her head and picks up her pizza again. “Panties dropping, left and right.”

“Tamryn!”

She just wiggles her eyebrows suggestively as she munches on her pizza.

I try not to think about Cooper in the cage, dripping sweat down his perfect chest, his piercing blue eyes narrowed in concentration. I try not to think about his muscles tensing and jaw set. I try not to let my mental fighting cage turn into his bedroom and I try not to let his opponent turn into me. I try not to think about what it would feel like to have him use those muscles to pick me up, push me against a wall, and take me, deeply and passionately.

The damp spot in my panties tells me my efforts aren’t as successful as I’d like.