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It had been two years since her first session with Noah and the tattoo was almost done. He'd meticulously crafted it on her skin, each line perfect and precise. The hours she spent in the chair were filled with soothing music, laughter, and easy conversation.
She'd come for the tattoo, some anonymous healing. It was a way to cover her scars from a trauma that burrowed into the marrow of her bones. But he'd made it so easy to stay, no matter how far or hard she tried to push him away.
Noah had a gentle touch that left her feeling relaxed and free from pain or stress. His words of comfort helped ease away some of the anxiety she felt getting inked, as if he could sense her apprehension and sought to reassure her through his work.
The design he'd sketched out on her skin had grabbed her attention in its simplicity yet intricate beauty. The garden he'd drawn was a homage to life and covered the death that lived beneath her skin. Vibrant green foliage mixed with delicate dark purple and pink petals, snakes winding down as if they were protecting the beauty within them.
Even after all this time, she was still enamored with the time and care he took when working on her design. He knew bits of her past, the glimpses she gave him.
They'd lost count of how many hours they worked diligently, ensuring she took more than the recommended time between inking sessions, so as not to disturb the scars he worked to cover. Tears would stream down her face as Noah worked, the pain a bittersweet reminder of all they'd been through together. She cried for the memories she never got to have with her parents. The milestones.
Despite the cover-up, the scars remained a reminder of her traumatic past. As Noah worked, she found herself opening up to him in a way she hadn't with anyone else. His gentle demeanor and unwavering support allowed her to let her guard down, revealing her deepest secrets and fears. He’d given her a place of acceptance and healing; it was him that gave her those when no one else could.
Not to forget their sexual chemistry was off the charts.
“Lex, Lexi?” Noah's call of her name brought her out of her thoughts.
With a sigh, she rubbed her face against his chest, his warmth seeping into her skin and her heart rate slowing to meet his. She shook her head, clearing out the thoughts and memories. “Yeah?”
“You okay, sweet pea? Not more than usual?”
“Yeah, I was thinking of our sessions. I didn’t see the privacy screen set up…”
“I’ll put it up if you need me to, it’s your choice.”
“I’m okay with just Wes being here. Not anybody else though.”
“Okay, sweet pea.” He kissed her forehead. “Are you ready?” Noah pulled them to a standing position and took Lexi's hand, leading them toward the tattoo stations. “Catch me up.” He squeezed her hand in encouragement.
“I was talking to Mia last night about the party at the Sampson house we’re catering,” she offered. “We decided to bring Ella in to help with some of the dishes. I have the china the bride wanted coming from London next week.” The maroon and gold accents would only complement the patterns they’d chosen. It filled her with pride that they were filling their portfolio faster than they’d imagined three years ago.
“All Wes talks about is the banister and hand-carved door frames.”
“He’s got a real hard-on for it.”
“They all seem to be enamored with it. So, what about you, love it too? ” he hedged.
“It’s beautiful, I could throw the most amazing parties and never have to worry about another venue debacle ever again.”
“It’s a nice size ranch property…”
“It would make a beautiful commercial space. Although I enjoy having lunch with Mel and Penny while we’re working more than anything else.” She loved the house but didn’t understand his interest in it.
“You are determined to have her say your name first.”
“You're damn right about that,” she said confidently, shrugging it off easily.
They entered the lobby of the shop, listening to Wes and another artist talk.
“Yo, Jordan?” He nodded toward the two guys heading out the door. They paid no attention to the men in the shop. “Wait, so who was the dude that just left?”
“That was Mister One-Night-Stand Collector.”
“He’s what?”
“He’s a relationship hopper. Nobody takes him seriously. He’s in here more times a month than we are.”
“I think I did girlfriend number three’s cover-up?” Noah thought out loud, absentmindedly winding up his machine cord between his palm and elbow.
