Page 74 of Spring Break Fling

He smirked. “Good.”

That was the extent of our makeup conversation. I didn’t have a brother, but I was sure it would be something like this. Jess on the other hand tended to hold a grudge about a day longer. But she was like an annoying little sister. I knew she was going to have my back no matter what.

I glanced up and saw her looking at me. She stuck her tongue out, which was the equivalent of a “We’re cool” message. I nodded at her and turned my attention back to the piece I was working on.

Images of Hannah’s face, her smile, the way she looked at me just before her mouth wrapped around my dick kept breaking through. I squirmed in my chair, fighting back the arousal that coursed through me just thinking about her going down on me.

I couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like if she was around more often. But that wasn’t going to happen. Her life’s work over a short fling with a tattoo artist in a tourist city was a pretty easy choice.

I wiped another smear of ink away, glancing at the door every time it opened, half-expecting to see her walk in. I knew she was going to be leaving soon and she was going to want that ink fixed. I already knew how I was going to fix the thing. It was easy. Just add more detail to the rose and my initials would disappear into the design.

I was just cleaning up when the door opened. It was crazy because I didn’t even have to look up to know it was her. I could feel her.

What the fuck was that about?

She walked in, her presence immediately lighting up the room in a way that set my nerves on edge and calmed me all at once. She had that effect, which I hated and loved in equal measure. Diego gave me a sly look from his station, smirking, but I ignored him.

“Hi,” I said as I walked to the front to greet her.

“Hi.”

“Follow me.”

Jess flashed a knowing smile. I hoped like hell she didn’t say something to embarrass me.

“So,” I said, gesturing to the chair. “Ready to let me fix this thing once and for all?”

Hannah smiled and held out her arm to reveal the tattoo I’d left my mark on. “As long as it doesn’t end up worse, I think I can handle it.”

“Harsh,” I said with a mock-wounded look. “I thought we were past all the judgment.”

Her laugh was light. “Oh, there’s still judgment. It’s just affectionate now.”

“Affectionate judgment,” I repeated as I adjusted the chair for her. “I can work with that.”

She sat down, looking more comfortable than she had the first time she was in my chair. I traced my fingers lightly over the lines of the tattoo. My initials were hidden so cleverly that no one would know unless I pointed them out, but Hannah had caught on, and fixing it now felt bittersweet.

“Tell me about work,” I said as I positioned her arm. “Back on track?”

She hesitated. “I think so. Clarke pitched my work to the client. They loved it, so now I just have to follow through.” Her tone wavered, like she wanted to add something, but she didn’t. “I got all my stuff together. Fine-tuned a few things.”

“Good,” I said, trying to focus on the machine and not the way her voice made me feel. “You’re killing it. I told you you’d be fine.”

She gave me a small, tight smile. “Yeah. Fine.”

I frowned. “But?”

“But—” She took a breath like she was about to confess something when the door to the shop slammed open.

The energy in the room shifted. The charged buzz of the machines came to a stop as Samantha strutted in like she owned the place.

I froze, my tattoo gun hovering millimeters from Hannah’s skin. Samantha’s heels clicked sharply against the floor, and her presence sucked the air out of the room. She stalked toward me.

“Fuck,” I hissed under my breath.

“We need to talk,” Samantha declared. No greeting, no preamble—just her usual blend of entitlement and venom. I couldn’t believe I ever thought I liked her. How the hell had I managed to get through a dinner with her? Sex. That was it. I liked sex and she had a good body.

I put down the gun and stood. Hannah was sitting in the chair between us. “Later,” I said through gritted teeth.