goddamn line-backer and with stamina to kill for.”
She laughed.
“Maybe you’ll meet him? We’re having a party at my place this Saturday night… can you make it?”
Her stomach tightened. “Hard to say, Nigel. I’ll try, OK?’
“Oh.” He studied her silently. “Chemo this week?”
“Yeah. I start another round tomorrow and I don’t expect to resurface until Thursday or Friday. I may not be OK for the weekend. But if I am, I promise to be there. Alright?”
“OK, doll.” He held her hand. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed. Toes, too.”
**
Dean squinted down at the tiny rose tattoo he was inking, trying to keep the detailing as delicate as possible. The girl was jumping around, though, making it a challenge, to say the least.
“Hey,” she said. “It hurts.”
“Yeah,” Dean said. “I warned you about that, remember? You wanted it right on the breastbone – not much flesh or muscle to absorb the impact of the needle. But I’m almost done, OK? Maybe you need a break?”
“Yeah, for sure.” She sat up, her low-slung jeans cupping her curved ass, her generous breasts squeezed in to a black lace bra. Every guy in the place was checking her out and damned if she didn’t love it. Dean had offered her a light blanket to cover herself, but she had refused. She was obviously the kind of girl who liked to have it all hang out.
Dean leaned back. “So you OK?”
“Uh-huh.” Her light blue eyes were gazing at him. “You own this place, right?”
“Yep.”
“You do any of your own tattoos?”
“No. Mine have all been done by other people.”
She reached out to trace one of his tattoos with a forefinger. He was so surprised that he didn’t even move away at first. “I like this one,” she said, running her fingers over the number ‘75’ on his Ranger’s tattoo. “You were a Ranger for real?”
He jerked back. “Yeah. For real.”
“No shit.” She smiled, slow and sexy. “That’s hot.”
“Yeah? You think so?”
“Oh, yeah.” She took in his shoulders and chest, admired his muscled arms. “So, when you finish with this tattoo, maybe you want to go for a drink? It’s almost closing time, right?”
He saw Jim staring across the room at him. The man knew full well and good that this was exactly the kind of offer that Dean never refused. She was blonde and busty and practically had her legs open right there on the table – and he had never been less interested in a quick fuck in the whole of his life.
“Thanks,” Dean said. “But I’m afraid I can’t tonight. Busy.”
“How long will you be busy?” she said. “I’ll be in Shooter’s until late. Maybe when you’ve stopped being busy, you can drop by?”
Dean shook his head. “Sorry, I won’t make it.” He gestured at the half-done tattoo. “You ready to finish up?”
She pouted a bit and lay down again. Dean caught Jim rolling his eyes and he scowled over at him. Dean didn’t know if it was at the girl’s blatant come-on or Dean’s blatant refusal, but Dean didn’t care either way. He was in a lousy fucking mood.
He hadn’t seen Emma at all that week. She was traveling for work again and wouldn’t be back until after the weekend, she’d said. But even before she had headed off to Las Vegas, she’d been amazingly busy and had only stayed over at his place once the week before.
Dean got the feeling that she was starting to slow things down, pull back a bit. He didn’t like it; he minded a lot that she was maybe going to have the end-it-all conversation with him. Yeah, he had agreed to those terms, but still. He was beginning to be sorry that she’d just be able to walk out of his life and he wouldn’t be able to even offer a token argument or resistance.
He focused on the tattoo, wanting only to shift this chick off his table and out the door. He would go home and watch TV and go to bed early, missing Emma the whole fucking time. And that’s when he finally admitted to what had been staring him
She laughed.
“Maybe you’ll meet him? We’re having a party at my place this Saturday night… can you make it?”
Her stomach tightened. “Hard to say, Nigel. I’ll try, OK?’
“Oh.” He studied her silently. “Chemo this week?”
“Yeah. I start another round tomorrow and I don’t expect to resurface until Thursday or Friday. I may not be OK for the weekend. But if I am, I promise to be there. Alright?”
“OK, doll.” He held her hand. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed. Toes, too.”
**
Dean squinted down at the tiny rose tattoo he was inking, trying to keep the detailing as delicate as possible. The girl was jumping around, though, making it a challenge, to say the least.
“Hey,” she said. “It hurts.”
“Yeah,” Dean said. “I warned you about that, remember? You wanted it right on the breastbone – not much flesh or muscle to absorb the impact of the needle. But I’m almost done, OK? Maybe you need a break?”
“Yeah, for sure.” She sat up, her low-slung jeans cupping her curved ass, her generous breasts squeezed in to a black lace bra. Every guy in the place was checking her out and damned if she didn’t love it. Dean had offered her a light blanket to cover herself, but she had refused. She was obviously the kind of girl who liked to have it all hang out.
Dean leaned back. “So you OK?”
“Uh-huh.” Her light blue eyes were gazing at him. “You own this place, right?”
“Yep.”
“You do any of your own tattoos?”
“No. Mine have all been done by other people.”
She reached out to trace one of his tattoos with a forefinger. He was so surprised that he didn’t even move away at first. “I like this one,” she said, running her fingers over the number ‘75’ on his Ranger’s tattoo. “You were a Ranger for real?”
He jerked back. “Yeah. For real.”
“No shit.” She smiled, slow and sexy. “That’s hot.”
“Yeah? You think so?”
“Oh, yeah.” She took in his shoulders and chest, admired his muscled arms. “So, when you finish with this tattoo, maybe you want to go for a drink? It’s almost closing time, right?”
He saw Jim staring across the room at him. The man knew full well and good that this was exactly the kind of offer that Dean never refused. She was blonde and busty and practically had her legs open right there on the table – and he had never been less interested in a quick fuck in the whole of his life.
“Thanks,” Dean said. “But I’m afraid I can’t tonight. Busy.”
“How long will you be busy?” she said. “I’ll be in Shooter’s until late. Maybe when you’ve stopped being busy, you can drop by?”
Dean shook his head. “Sorry, I won’t make it.” He gestured at the half-done tattoo. “You ready to finish up?”
She pouted a bit and lay down again. Dean caught Jim rolling his eyes and he scowled over at him. Dean didn’t know if it was at the girl’s blatant come-on or Dean’s blatant refusal, but Dean didn’t care either way. He was in a lousy fucking mood.
He hadn’t seen Emma at all that week. She was traveling for work again and wouldn’t be back until after the weekend, she’d said. But even before she had headed off to Las Vegas, she’d been amazingly busy and had only stayed over at his place once the week before.
Dean got the feeling that she was starting to slow things down, pull back a bit. He didn’t like it; he minded a lot that she was maybe going to have the end-it-all conversation with him. Yeah, he had agreed to those terms, but still. He was beginning to be sorry that she’d just be able to walk out of his life and he wouldn’t be able to even offer a token argument or resistance.
He focused on the tattoo, wanting only to shift this chick off his table and out the door. He would go home and watch TV and go to bed early, missing Emma the whole fucking time. And that’s when he finally admitted to what had been staring him
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