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"I ask women out all the time. That my success rate is embarrassingly high is something you should appreciate rather than take for granted."
I thought about it for a minute and realized he was right. He did ask women out regularly, but he did it in such a smooth way that it seemed entirely uncalculated.
"I told her that we'd had a good night and we should try it again," I paraphrased.
He frowned. "That's it? No, ‘I can't stop thinking about you’ or ‘I've never wanted anyone like I want you.’”
I gaped at him. "You say these things to women in a bar that you want to hook up with?"
It was his turn to gape at me. “No, but this is Winter Donovan. You dated her sister all through high school. If you wanted a quick hook up, why are you going after her?"
"I want to spend time with her; I'm not asking her to marry me."
"There are plenty of women you can spend time with. Why the hardcore push for Winter?"
I didn't want to explore my feelings about Winter in the middle of the sidewalk, but Adam was looking at me like he wasn't moving until I answered his question. "Because I like her. She gets me. I understand her. And we had fucking awesome sex. You ever have that, man? Where you feel like the top of your head is coming off and the world shifted, and when you were put back together, everything felt different?"
He hesitated and then walked past me to the door of Atra.
"No response?" I called after him.
He turned, one hand on the glass door, and replied. "No. Never felt that way, but I want to."
Inside Atra, Motown music played loud enough that the tambourines accenting the back beats sounded like they were clanged next to your ear. The shop was surprisingly small and looked not unlike the barbershop where I got my hair cut. The floor was some kind of ceramic tile, and the long room was divided into what looked like four different stalls. Three were occupied with clients and artists. I couldn't see the last one, in part because my eyes were pinned on the two leather chairs situated closely in the back. A dark head was bent close to a blond one. Way too close.
I felt Adam's warning hand on my arm, but anger—maybe a little fear—drove me forward. I knew I hadn't chased after Winter when she first left. But in my defense, my old man had passed away and I was dealing with a lot of shit, not the least of which the night with Winter had blown my mind. We hadn't just screwed our way from one end of the trailer to the other, but we'd talked in between. She'd listened to me, and she'd offered me thoughtful replies.
She understood. I'd held her and her sister after their parents died. In fact, I remembered comforting Winter one time and growing a completely inappropriate boner with my arms full of sixteen-year-old sweetness.
With trooper man here, though, it made me realize I may have let it slide too long.
I ignored the two men and focused on Winter.
"What are you doing here?" she gasped.
I couldn't piss on her shoes, so I did the next best thing. "I'm your next consult, baby."
The tatted guy standing next to me wearing plastic gloves and holding a blue paper towel arched an eyebrow. "Thought Adam was coming in."
"Tucker, Finn's with me." Adam popped up, having my back like the boss best friend he was. "I brought him here to see the best for his virgin skin."
"So we're popping your cherry today." Tucker looked at me appraisingly, but I got the message. He had some protective feelings toward Winter which, as long as they were brotherly, didn't bother me at all.
"We'll see. I want to talk to the artist in residence and see what ideas she has."
We all looked down at her bent head. Her sketchbook had suddenly become intensely interesting.
Tucker toyed with a piercing at the corner of his lip and then came to a decision. "Dorsey, why don't you come up to the front, and Gig will get you on the schedule."
Dorsey rose reluctantly. "If you get hungry and want some company, my phone number is in your system."
"We're not allowed to use client information for our own personal use," Winter replied primly.
"Don't worry. You won't get in trouble. After all, I am the law." He looked straight at me when he said that, but I was done with him. I dropped into the chair he'd vacated and proceeded to shut out everyone but Winter. Ruefully, I knew I was paying for my earlier deeds and wondered for a split second whether I was a barking up an immovable and disinterested tree. But I didn't think so.
She fidgeted awkwardly with her sketchbook. One finger fretted at the edge of the paper. I took this as a good sign. A girl who was indifferent wouldn’t be avoiding me.
"When did you stop being afraid of needles?" She finally broke the silence.
