There You Stand

“You’re quite welcome.” The shock of hearing his voice made me stop in my tracks. Not only because it was deep and rumbly, but also because it was distinctly British, and I was so not expecting that. “Aren’t you an artist at Raw Ink?”

I turned to face him again, trying like hell not to stare at his full lips. “Yeah. The name’s Cory. Saw you in the waiting room the other day.”

He gave a curt nod, like he was unwilling to say anything more.

And instead of creating another situation where I’d need to put my foot in my mouth, I turned and kept walking. My mind flashed to the day he’d been in the shop. I had never introduced myself to him. In fact, he never even looked up from the portfolios. But somehow he’d been paying attention.

“Cory,” I heard him mutter.

I sucked in a breath and twisted to look back once more. I wanted to see those eyes. But he was already walking away. I watched as he picked up his board, jumped astride, and rolled across the pavement away from me.

Chapter Two

I was so keyed up by what had taken place at the park that I nearly floated into the shower, like I was on some goddamn cloud or something. How pathetic was that?

Even though I could’ve wrung his neck, I gave Chopper a good treat for actually being the catalyst that got Jude York to utter his first words to me. And what amazing words they were.

“Aren’t you an artist at Raw Ink?”

And then, “Cory.”

In that beautiful English accent that glided over my skin like fingers.

I was booked tight at Raw Ink today and then I’d be heading to my grandmother’s house afterward. Though she drove just fine, she had terrible night vision due to cataracts.

My grandmother was the only family I had left, so if she had to be out after dark, I tried like hell to pick her up. Since I drove a motorcycle, that took some creativity on my part, but most of the time, her trusty old Toyota Corolla got the job done.

I couldn’t help thinking about Jude in between tattoo appointments. When did he move to the States and how much time had he spent in England? I wanted to ask all kinds of questions but knowing how tight-lipped he already was, that would prove to be impossible. Instead, I imagined the way my name would roll off his tongue while he fucked me.

Yeah, I was really doing a number on myself since that day would only come when hell froze over. And even then, Jude would have to be something other than straight.

After my shift, I headed toward the door to pick up my grandmother, and waved to Emmy and Jessie on my way out. We had two receptionists up front today because we’d had such a full schedule.

“Hey, guess who made an appointment with you next week?”

I shrugged, not wanting to be late. Grandma always thought I fussed too much, but I insisted she let me drive her to and from her weekly card night with her lady friends. This had become our standing weekly date.

“Jude York,” Jessie said, and my shoulders instantly stiffened.

“Jessie says he’s British. Who would’ve thunk?” Emmy said, waggling her eyebrows.

I stood there staring off into space, wondering why in the hell Jude would want me of all people to give him ink. What exactly would he want drawn on him?

Whatever it was, I’d have to be in close proximity to him—to his skin—for however long it took. I was a professional for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t like I’d never been attracted to a client before. I knew how to keep it in my pants and get the job done.

“What’s your deal? Are you freaked about him, too?” Jessie asked because I hadn’t moved from the doorway and was gaping beyond her to the far wall. “You believe those rumors?”

When I still didn’t say anything she continued. “You hang out at the motorcycle bar for God’s sake. Can’t be any rougher than that crowd.”

“But you gotta admit the Hog’s Den serves good food,” I said, snapping out of it. I had Dex to thank for dragging me to that bar in the first place, all because of some biker chick.

“You don’t go for the chicken wings,” she said, laughing. “You like to look at all the tough and muscled dudes. Like I’ve said before, you love your beautiful assholes.”

Little did Jessie know that David had been the polar opposite. He was soft-spoken, lean, and submissive. At least in the bedroom. He liked for me to top him. But he just didn’t want to show any of that in public. And that was our biggest rift. That he’d continued to be deep in the closet.

“Can’t deny that,” I said, a little sharper than I’d intended. “And I’m not freaked at all about skater boy. Just got plenty of other things on my mind.”

Jessie’s eyes widened briefly and she stole a quick look at Emmy, who got busy cleaning the large glass window up front. She was used to my energetic, playful side. They both were because that’s what I showed everyone. But her news had unnerved me. I got my legs moving before I did something else to throw her. “My grandma’s waiting. Catch you later.”

I picked Grandma up from Rose’s house and got away before the ladies could ply me with questions and food. They had known each other for decades, had all survived their husbands, and were a lively bunch.

“The gutters need cleaning,” Grandma said, looking up at the tiny bungalow that she and my grandfather had raised me in since I was ten years old, after my mother died from breast cancer. Grandma was a survivor herself and without even speaking of it, I knew she would’ve taken my mother’s place in a heartbeat.