“Yo. What the hell?” Carmello says, joining us. “In case any of you have forgotten, we’re running a business. We have customers and appointments. I’d like to get out of here at a decent hour tonight.”
Gigi turns to him and narrows her eyes. “Yes, sir, boss man. We know. We’re between customers.”
Carmello shakes his head. “Not Rosie. She has someone waiting for her in the consultation room who’s probably ready to walk out by now. He’s been waiting at least half an hour.”
My back stiffens as I glance around at my family. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Gigi shrugs. “He wasn’t on the schedule. He called asking for you before he just showed up. I told him you had limited time and could do a walk-in consult, but he’d have a long wait. He said he’d wait as long as necessary. And now, he’s waiting as long as necessary.”
“What do I have? Thirty before my first appointment?” I ask Lily, who’s closest to the computer.
“You did, but they canceled,” Lily says.
“Fuck,” I hiss. “People suck.”
“Ah. Such rainbows and sunshine this morning,” Carmello teases with a smile.
“This is going to be an awesome day,” Pike adds, hating when one of us is crabby and really hating it when a few of us are—like today.
“Maybe your consult will want the spot?” Lily says, trying to be positive like she always is.
“Probably not,” I reply as I stalk toward the consultation room with my coffee in hand, shaking out my bad vibes. The last thing I want to do is pass on my attitude to my potential client and chase away business.
I rush into the room, saying, “Sorry you’ve waited so long,” to the back of his head. “If I would’ve known I had someone waiting, I…” My voice dies as soon as he turns around and our eyes meet. I almost stagger back but somehow keep my feet planted.
“I told you we’d see each other again,” he drawls with a smirk that’s nothing short of salacious.
I grunt and move toward the other side of the table before setting down my coffee. “What are you doing here?” I ask, sliding into the chair across from him. “There’re other ways to find me than wasting time at my business and costing me money.”
“Who said I’m wasting your time or costing you money?” He relaxes into his chair, one arm bent and resting on the back, the other one extended across the table.
I stare at him, and he stares right back. “You’re in my place of work.”
“This is a tattoo shop, yeah?”
“You are correct, Einstein.”
He lets out a little laugh, not bothered in the slightest by my dig. “I’m looking for some new ink, and I know—or at least heard—this is the best place in the area. I took a shot that you followed in your father’s footsteps and were working here since there isn’t much else to do in this shit-ass town. And, boom! Here I am, and you are too.”
“Oh yay,” I say sarcastically and fidget with my travel coffee mug because there’s something about Dylan Walsh that has me a bit off-kilter. “You should’ve asked for one of the more senior artists like Pike or even Gigi.”
“Nope,” he retorts, shifting in his seat to lean over the table and close the small amount of space between us. “I wanted you, darlin’.”
“Fuckin’ fabulous,” I grumble and push my coffee to the side because I need to meet Dylan head-on, and fidgeting of any kind won’t be allowed. “Why don’t you tell me what you want and where you want it. Let’s start with the easy shit, and I’ll see if it’s something I can do before we move forward.”
“You can,” he says easily and quickly. “I have faith in you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is it because of my tits or my ass?”
“Both,” he replies without missing a beat. “But I also know you wouldn’t be working here unless you were great. Inked doesn’t hire shit, even if they’re family.”
“Fine. Tell me what you want,” I say with a sigh, resigned to at least go through the motions with him. Whatever it takes to get Dylan Walsh gone sooner rather than later. I could bicker with him all day, but it wouldn’t do anything except make him stick around longer than necessary.
“I want to get the first three lines of ‘Do not go gentle into that good night,’ along with some sort of decoration around it so it’s not just plain script.”
Somehow, I don’t even blink. I never would’ve pegged the man in front of me for a poem type of guy, but here he is, asking for one of my favorites tattooed on his flesh forever. “Can you elaborate on the decoration? And do you want fancy script or something more like a typewriter font?”
He thinks for a minute, his eyes never leaving mine. “I like the idea of a clean typewriter font. As for decoration, I’ll let you pick.”
“So, pink flowers, then?” I tease, hoping it’s enough to chase his ass away.
“Whatever you think works best. I trust you.”
“Why?”
“Why what?” he asks.
“Why do you trust me?”
“Because you’re the artist.”
“But you’re…you’re you and covered in tattoos, and nowhere on your skin are there any other flowers, especially pink ones, but you’d let me do it?”
He nods. “Why the fuck not?”
“Because I said pink.”
He tilts his head to the side and looks at me funny. “And?”
“You’re not a pink guy.”
“Darlin’,” he whispers, adjusting himself in his seat as he gazes across the table at me. “You don’t even know what kind of guy I am, but if you think pink is good, I’m all for it.”
“You’re nuts,” I mutter.
“Never claimed to be playing with a full deck, especially where you’re involved.”
I roll my eyes. “There’re a lot easier ways to get laid than having pink flowers permanently inked on your flesh.”
“Name one,” he tells me.
I shrug. “Go to a bar and pick someone up. I’m sure there are plenty of women who would take you up on the offer.”
“Tried that last night. Didn’t work.” He smiles, and damn it all to hell, I can’t help but laugh.
“You’re an idiot.”
His smile only grows wider. “We doing this or what?”
I can’t bite back the sigh. I have no excuse. I have the time since my first client canceled, and although Dylan can be a dick, his money is as good as anyone’s. “Yeah. Give me thirty minutes to draw something up, and we’ll do it if you have time now.”
“Got nothing but time, sweetheart.”
“Great.”
“Great,” he repeats.
“You want to stay in here or…”
“How about I go get you and me a fresh cup of coffee, and I’ll come back in thirty to get this going?”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I know I don’t need to do that, but I could use a cup and I’m not a selfish prick who isn’t going to bring you back a cup too. Unless you’d rather have something else.”