Inked in the Steel City Series(4)

He laughed and began to clean the tattoo, preparing a bandage. “I can’t wait to see them.”



Mina’s stomach fluttered nervously as he finished applying the bandage and left the booth, granting her privacy to drop the cover she clutched over her chest and pull on her top. She went braless – the fresh tattoo scrolling across her ribs left her no choice – and quickly pulled on her jacket, zipping it to the neck. Her heart sunk a little as she stepped out of the booth, closing the half-door behind herself. She’d grown used to stopping by the shop most afternoons. In fact, knowing that she’d see Eric had been what had pulled her through her work days, allowing her to remain positive despite the fact that she had to work in close proximity to her new bitch of a coworker.



“Thanks again,” he said, extending a hand. He’d removed his gloves and his skin was warm and slightly rough against Mina’s as she took it. “I’m glad you came to me for this tattoo.”



She found herself nodding as she shook his hand, locked in eye contact. She was close enough to see that his eyes weren’t just one shade of blue, but a dozen different hues, ranging from pale grey to a deep azure, the different colors arranged in striations that blended together at a distance. She found herself wanting to lean closer, to look until she could see the reflection of her own eyes in his irises and their lips brushed. She didn’t, of course, but her heart picked up speed at just the thought. “See ya.” It was a lame thing to say, but what else was there? The tattoo was done and she wouldn’t be spending her afternoons with him anymore.



He dropped her hand and she turned, picking up her purse from where it rested on the half wall that sectioned off the booth.



“Hey.”



She turned as she slung her bag over her shoulder, her breath catching a little as she met his eyes again. “Yeah?”



“I have about an hour before my next appointment. Want to get a cup of coffee?”



For the first time that day, she felt a little lightheaded, as if she’d sat up too quickly after the tattoo session. “I don’t have much time.” She bit the inside of her lip, shooting a glance at the clock on the wall. Jess’s art club meeting would end in forty-five minutes and her high school was a twenty minute drive from the tattoo studio.



“There’s a place right across the street,” Eric offered, his blue eyes clear and inviting. His biceps strained his sleeves as he shifted his stance and Mina found herself wondering what might be inked across them – she was sure there was something. There had to be. Whoever heard of a tattoo artist with no tattoos? If his looked half as perfect as the rest of him, they had to be amazing.



“OK.” She smiled tentatively and her nerves buzzed as he took a step forward, coming within a hairsbreadth of invading her personal space.



“Let me grab my jacket.” He took a few long strides forward and plucked a simple black jacket from a hook in the lobby, then slipped into it, placing yet another layer of concealing clothing over his tempting biceps and whatever designs might be inked across them.



They passed a couple people languishing on a comfortable couch, perhaps waiting for appointments, and Eric held the door open for Mina. She flashed him a small smile as she stepped out into the chilly fall air. A gust of wind tossed her loose hair around her neck like a scarf, and her nipples pricked instantly against her shirt. Fortunately, her jacket was thick enough to hide them from Eric. Though he’d spent hours with his hands on her body, this was different. The gloves were gone and he was looking at her – just her – as they started down the sidewalk, walking side by side. She wasn’t his client anymore. She was…well, maybe not his date, exactly. But something like that.



The soles of her boots scuffed against the sidewalk, conspiring with the breeze and scattering leaves to form an awkward symphony. She should say something. But what?



“So, are you from around here?” Eric turned his startlingly blue gaze upon her and her stomach flip-flopped.



“Not originally,” she said, burying her hands in her pockets as much as for something to do as to warm them. “My family moved around a lot when I was a kid.” By family she meant herself, Jess, their mother and whatever boyfriend-of-the-month had been living with them at the time, but there was no need to bring that up. She and Eric were having a quick cup of coffee, not pouring out their life stories over a bottle of expensive wine. Or whatever people drank when they bared their souls to someone else. Presumably, it was alcoholic.



“Oh yeah?”