Draw Me In by Regina Cole Regina Cole Page A

shit.
    “I’m so sorry,” she’d said, her voice gravelly. “The doctor thinks it might have been food poisoning, but they want me to take it slow. Tell Hailey I feel awful about this, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
    “Hey, it’s fine. Do what you need to do.” I had been as soothing as possible while inwardly tearing out my hair. I had counted on Tasha to create that buffer between me and Hailey today. I needed the space, because all I wanted to do was tangle my fingers in her hair and kiss her until neither of us could breathe. “I’ll see you soon, Tasha. Take care.”
    For the first couple of hours we were open, it had been pretty slow. Typical for a weekday afternoon. Most of our business flowed in after four and on the weekends. I had manned the desk myself up until three-thirty. But at that point, I began to wonder when Hailey would arrive. What she’d be wearing today. If I’d get a chance to touch her again, even though touching her was a bad idea.
    “Frankie, can you take the desk for a while?” I asked before I even thought about it.
    “Sure, man.”
    I was hiding in my studio like a damn coward. I didn’t know what to do where Hailey was concerned. She was gorgeous, sweet, determined. I wanted to know her better, but I couldn’t put myself in that position.
    I glanced out the small gap in the curtains of my studio and saw three people waiting in line for help. “Dammit,” I groaned. This was ridiculous. Marshaling my courage, I headed out to the counter to lend a hand.
    “. . . so if you want to check over their portfolios, you can make an appointment with whichever artist you like,” she was saying to a tall, lean guy. I fought the urge to be jealous at the smile she was giving him.
    “Hey, what’s up?” I said, nodding at the guy before beckoning to the woman just behind him. “Can I help you with something?”
    Twenty minutes later, Hailey had set up three appointments, and I had taken consent payments from four other customers. When a lull finally hit, I turned to look at her. And damn, I wished I hadn’t.
    She was in jeans; I was beginning to suspect they were her typical uniform. Totally fine by me. They hugged her curves, highlighting her fine ass. Her gray burnout tee was layered over a long black tank. Her hair was caught up in a messy knot at the back of her head, wisps and curls sticking out everywhere. It was gorgeous.
    She was gorgeous.
    “Thanks for helping me out,” she said, giving me a wan smile. “I know I need to be more efficient at this.”
    “No, it’s fine,” I said, jamming my hands in my jean pockets. I was glad now that I’d taken the time to go home and grab other clothes, even though I’d had to call Frankie to open up. It would have been awkward to be standing here in the same clothes I’d been wearing yesterday. “I’m just sorry that things aren’t exactly starting out easy for you.”
    She barked out a surprised laugh. “You can say that again.”
    I swayed with shock as her eyes filled with tears. She looked away quickly to hide from my gaze, but it was too late. The damage was done.
    “Come with me,” I said, pulling her to her feet.
    “No.” She pulled back on my hand, but I didn’t let go.
    “I mean it.” I knocked on the door of Frankie’s studio. “Hey, man, mind the front when you’re done.” I didn’t wait for an answer, just led Hailey into my studio, shut the door, and pulled the curtains in the small window shut.
    My tattoo chair was laid out flat from a leg piece I’d done earlier, so I pulled her over to it. Sitting down at the edge, I patted the free space beside me. “Come on,” I said. “Sit with me. I won’t bite.”
    She bit her lip, crystal tears sliding down her cheeks.
    “You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong if you don’t want to. Just sit with me.”
    When she gingerly sat in the space next to me, I wanted to crow with victory. I didn’t. I simply reached over, grabbed her hand, and held