Page 17 of Scoring a Sweet Thing

And while I’m not embarrassed in the slightest, I may be just a teeny tiny bit scared of my feelings.

I’m finishing up on the final details on the geometric-style piece I’ve been working on when my colleague and fellow tattoo artist Stormi pokes her head through the archway that separates the main studio from the front of house area.

“Baileyyyy!” she sings, waving one hand in a flourish. “There’s someone here to see youuuu!” Then she lowers her voice, a devilish glint sparkles in her eye as she says, “And can I just say… he’s fucking gorgeous!”

My heart stutters. I knew he was getting back from Raleigh in the early hours of the morning, but I wasn’t expecting to see him until tonight.

Before I can tell her to send him through because I’m just wrapping up, he appears behind her like a vibrant bundle of energy. He’s holding a paper bag and coffee cup from the cafe around the corner in one hand, and he’s wearing the brightest smile I’ve ever seen.

“Bailey! I’m back! Did you miss me? Of course you did. I’m a missable guy.”

I snort a laugh, unable to deny any of it because yeah, I did miss him.

Not wanting to think too much into how I can miss someone I’ve known less than two weeks, I greet him with a soft smile. “Hey, Remi. Glad to have you back.”

He practically bounces over to me, greeting my client with the same exuberance he applies to everything in life, then gasps when he notices the tattoo I’m giving a final wipe over.

“Ohmigod! Look at that!” He peers over to look at the piece on my client’s bicep. “That’s so amazing! Isn’t he talented? He’s so talented. And pretty.”

He turns to me and reaches over to tuck some hair that’s fallen into my face behind my ear. Another beaming smile appears on his face. “So pretty.”

Heat travels up my neck at his earnest tone, and I’m sure my cheeks have turned the color of a ripe tomato.

Stormi lets out an excited squeal. “I can’t fucking cope with this. Someone take a photo. Bailey is blushing. Blushing!”

My smile tips downward into a scowl. Lifting one hand, I give her the middle finger and mouth, “Fuck you.”

She places her palm over her heart. “Such a charmer.”

Ignoring her teasing, Remi watches as my client checks out their new piece in the mirror. After, I take photos and wrap it, then go through the aftercare instructions and sort out payment. Once they leave, Remi places the paper bag and coffee on the small table in the small lounge area and engulfs me in a tight, warm hug.

“Hi,” I squeak, wrapping my arms around his solid torso.

“Hey.” He gives me a squeeze before releasing me, then motions for me to sit down. “I brought you some lunch because I know sometimes you don’t get to eat, and you’ve gotta eat, Bailey!” He pierces me with a stern look that I didn’t know was possible on him. “Do you have time to eat with me?”

I open my mouth to say I have forty minutes until my next client, but Stormi appears so suddenly I jump in my seat.

“He does have time!” She places her hands on his wide shoulders. “Can we get you anything, Remi?”

He peers up at her with a wide grin. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”

Their attention lands on me, and my face instantly flames.

I narrow my eyes as Stormi gives his shoulders a squeeze, willing her to remove her hands before I remove them for her. She must sense my annoyance because she lets out a high-pitched “Aw!” before skipping back around the counter.

Remi fills me in on his away games while I tuck into the panini he bought me, all while he demolishes a large pasta salad and his own panini. I don’t think I’ll ever get over how much he eats.

“I watched your games, but I’ll admit, I had no idea what was going on.”

“You did? That’s so—” He stops abruptly and gasps before clapping his hands together so loud it startles me. “Ohmigod, you should come to my next home game! It’ll be so much fun! I get comp seats. Ohmigod! You could bring Lian!” His voice gradually gets louder the more excited he gets, and I’m unable to hide my amusement. I press my lips together, trying to hold back my laughter. This guy is so fucking precious.

“I mean, only if you want to? You’ve already done things for me that weren’t for you, and I understand if⁠—”

I laugh softly under my breath at his nervous ramble. “That sounds like fun. Let me know when it is, and I’ll check with Lian if he’s free.”

He fist pumps and finishes the last of his pasta salad. “Am I still coming over tonight?”

“If you want to.”