PD gestured around. “Yeah, I said that so you would use your brain. Go to school. Put in a real effort. I don’t just run a tattoo parlor, I have an art degree. If things didn’t work out, I could go do something else. My eggs aren’t all in one basket.” He scowled.
“Well, I don’t have a degree and I’m stealing your clients just fine,” Ren snapped, and when I glanced at him my stomach wobbled again. His face was flushed and he was ready to breathe fire.
PD tilted his head. “Are you, though? I heard you tattooed an entire sorority house I turned away because we’re booked through till Christmas. We barely have any walk-in time.” He looked smug, and I guess he had a right.
Ren snorted. “Sure. That’s why they came here. You turned them away.” He shook his head.
PD tugged on the brim of his hat. “Believe what you want. I was actually coming over to see if I could recommend my spillover clients to you, but I can see you don’t want them.”
Ren sneered. “No, I don’t need your table scraps. I’m taking all your business.”
PD rolled his eyes.
My cheeks flushed and embarrassment crawled through me, though whether it was for me, Ren, or all three of us, I couldn’t say.
PD zeroed in on me and shook his head. “I’ll keep all that in mind. Oli, you can do better. I see you’re getting serious now. Come back and we’ll talk.”
Ren stalked toward him with a real scowl. “Get out of my fucking business.”
PD chuckled as he limped out, nothing about his steady, unhurried pace indicating he was worried about Ren at all.
Ren spun on me. “Why didn’t you tell him to shut the fuck up?”
I gaped for a second, but he seemed to be waiting for an answer, so I blurted, “He’s part of the motorcycle club my dad belongs to. They helped me and my mom when I was younger. We’re friends.”
He made a face like he wanted to say something shitty about that—and perhaps a week ago he would’ve—but instead he just flipped off the door.
It was stupid that Ren beingslightlyless of an asshole should give me butterflies in my stomach, but it really did. I smiled at him when he caught me watching.
His face flushed, highlighting his sharp cheekbones, which was sexy. My heart raced faster. I couldn’t stop staring at him.
“You should be practicing.” He stopped at the desk and pressed a button, and the overhead lights went off. Another button press made the metal blinds descend across the front windows. The jewelry cases along the front wall went dark. Last, he went to the door and flipped the sign to Closed, which tickled my funny bone. All that tech and it still came down to a cardboard sign.
I was alone in the halo of light near my chair. My mouth watered as he arranged his cock in his jeans with a wink, thenstarted toward me across the dark room. The sensation that I was being hunted was sexy as fuck. Part of me wanted to run, but I forced myself to stay still.
When he reached me, he cupped my neck and swooped down to own my mouth. I squeaked as he wrapped his arms around me and lifted me from my roller stool to the tattoo chair. The display of easy strength made my dick sit up and beg.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He waggled his eyebrows. “Every ship needs a christening when it first sets sail.”
I bit my lip as he slid his hand up my thigh and prowled onto the chair with me. His phone buzzed in his pocket, faint but clearly audible in the quiet room. He ignored it, thank God, but his hand was almost to my straining, trapped cock when it began a new round of buzzing.
“Did you get an electronic dick or do you need to answer that?”
He sat back on his knees and laughed, a bright happy sound that made me warm inside. “The kitten finally shows some teeth today. Nice.”
I rolled my eyes as he fished his phone out of his pocket. His grin disappeared as he frowned at the screen.
“Hello?” He rested a hand on my shoulder as he listened. “Thank you. Yes, we’ll be there.” He was already hopping off the chair when I finally pieced together that something bad must be happening.
“What’s wrong?”
“Come on.” He grabbed my hand and nearly gave me whiplash as he dragged me off the chair. We were out the door and in Shakira speeding through early evening traffic toward downtown New Gothenburg in less than a minute.
“Will you tell me where we’re going?” I asked, grabbing the dash as he zigged around a car that was going less than the speedof light—unlike us. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to end up with a huge ticket.
“KC’s been in the hospital all day. The nurse who called only said where he was, notwhyhe was there.” He shrugged, but his shoulders barely moved because he was so tense.
