Unrequited(22)

"Thanks. Thanks a lot."

As much as I would've liked to have proven him wrong, the fact was I did suck at dancing. I had about as much grace as a new toddler just figuring out how to walk. When we all went out clubbing, I manned the table to make sure no one horned in on our territory.

"You know you'd be earning twice as much if you inked your own designs."

I winced. This wasn't the first time Tucker had brought up the issue of apprenticeship. I always felt bad about turning him down because it was really an honor to be offered this. Apprenticeship always took a lot of time for the one who did the teaching.

"I think you could really take your designs to the next level if you had a tattoo gun in your hand and you began looking at the body as the starting point of your designs instead of the paper in a sketchbook."

His backhanded compliment kind of pissed me off. "I know you're trying to be complimentary, but it's coming off pretty insulting. If you don't like my artwork—which you've won awards with at tattoo conventions—why do you have me here?"

He took a big bite of his bagel and chewed slowly before responding. "Because I'm smarter than I sound." He gave me an apologetic grin. "Sorry. Your work is awesome. Now I'm not going to say anything more because I want to keep you here. You’ve helped put Atra on the map. I’m just offering an alternative. If you need anything from me, let me know."

"I love working here. I would never leave."

"Good to know. Now eat a bagel and then go make me more money."

"Yes, sir." I gave him a mock salute that earned me a puppy pat on my head, something Tucker knew very well I hated.

"Are you two done making out? I want a bagel," Gig whined at the door. Tucker threw it open and walked out, muttering something about lawsuits and sexual harassment.

"So which one of them are you going to go out with?" Gig asked, settling into the chair opposite of me. He pulled a bagel out of the bag and proceeded to shove nearly the entire thing into his mouth.

"Neither." Finn's steady pursuit might have been breaking down my walls, but that wasn't something I was admitting to Gig.

"Well, the trooper wanted me to give you this. Said he didn't want to be responsible for you breaking house rules." Gig placed a crumpled up piece of paper on the table. I picked it up and smoothed it out.



Tucker said he didn't care if you went out with me, but he was convinced you'd say no. Why don't we prove him wrong? I'll bring the wine, and you can bring the donuts.



"If it were me, I'd go with the hot cop because then you can break the law with no repercussions."

I folded the note and tucked it into my jeans. "I don't think it works that way."

"He could at least get you out of a speeding ticket or two. You never know until you try."

"My mom used to say that to get me to eat broccoli. I never liked it."

"Broccoli tastes like ass." Gig laughed. "And hot cop looks like he tastes like sweaty goodness."

"Sweaty?" That didn't sound much better than broccoli.

"Once you have sweaty cop in your bed, you'll know what I'm talking about." He waggled his eyebrows at me.

"Voice of experience?" I laughed.

"You know it."

The rest of the day sped by quickly. When I arrived home, Ivy was gone. I didn't call sweaty Hot Cop after he left, but I didn't throw the number away either. The guilt I felt about having slept with Finn made me reluctant to see him again. I had no defenses, and I knew if we were alone I would more than likely be stripping his clothes off. Even though Ivy had given me her blessing, I hadn't been forthcoming. I hadn't told her I’d slept with him and that I wanted to again. Maybe hot cop was exactly the remedy I needed to help me put my Finn crush away forever.

Until I had seen Finn two months ago, I actually thought my crush was a distant childhood memory. I was completely unprepared for the wave of emotion and the hot pulse of desire that pounded in my ears when he turned that heated blue stare toward me. Even worse was the way I felt after. For days after we'd had sex, I could still feel the imprint of his fingers digging into my hips, the rough scratch of his late night beard growth against my sensitive skin, and the wet drag of his tongue across what seemed like every inch of my body. I was sore in places I didn't realize had muscles and ached in places that had never ached before.

I could see myself becoming addicted to him and how he made me felt, and that…terrified me. Enough so, even though Hot Cop wasn't really my thing, I wondered if I should make him my thing. He certainly wasn't hard to look at.

I had my phone in my hand when the doorbell rang. I set my phone down and went to the door. "Who is it?" I asked and looked through the peephole.