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"Die, really?"
"Yeah."
"Aren't you supposed to motivate me to do my best work?"
"Yeah?" His eyes light up with epiphany. "Be careful, sunshine. If you bite, I bite back."
"You started it."
"Even so." He sits back in his chair. Spreads his legs in that blow me position.
I flip him off.
He chuckles.
I want to slap him.
And kiss him.
It's weird.
But it doesn't matter.
Dean is my boss. I'm keeping this professional. End of story.
Chapter Six
Chloe
"Rick, Chloe. Chloe, Rick." Dean's voice is casual. Effortless. Like he's shooting the breeze at his favorite bar.
Rick, a tall guy with dark hair and a nervous smile, offers his hand.
I shake. "Nice to meet you."
"Yeah." His eyes trace a line down my body then fix on my chest.
My cheeks flame. It's been two years. I've spent them—no, I've spent my entire life living in tank tops.
I should be used to this.
But I'm not.
"Any way I can get her to do it instead of you?" Rick teases.
"It's her second day," Dean says.
"Even so." His gaze shifts to Dean.
Dean looks to me. "What do you think, sunshine?" He hands me the tattoo gun. "Want to do this freehand?"
Want to? Hell yes. I want to do ink now. But I'm not even close to ready for it. This isn't putting pen to paper. If I mess up, that's it. My mistake is on someone's body forever. "Not a good idea."
"Sorry." Dean shrugs. "I tried." He motions to his client. Sit down.
Rick follows orders.
"Get me the temp tattoo, Chloe." Dean leans in to whisper something in his client's ear. He shoots me a serene smile. "Please."
