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Smirking at the clever use of the town name, I pushed inside the shop and let out a small, happy exhale. A waiting room with laminate hardwood welcomed me as classic rock played from a speaker at the receptionist’s desk. It was louder in the back, where the chairs likely were. Low-hanging lights were artfully placed over the leather couch, wall pictures, and the entry desk. I ran my finger over the thick binders laid out for guests to garner inspiration or select from previous designs.
There was no one sitting behind the reception desk, so I took my time looking over the different cards sitting out. There were only two tattoo artists and then the manager of the studio listed.
“Can I help you?” someone asked, poking out from the back. There was a tiny hallway that led to the left and right, with a bathroom right in the middle.
Jamming my thumb over my shoulder, I said, “Sorry, just stopping in to see what you guys had going here. I have a chair in DC and…well, actually, I’m from here, and I was just curious about this place.”
My face turned a harsh red as the awkwardness of my sentence caught up with me.
The guy, practically a teenager, had three silver rings in his lip, two in his eyebrow, and one in his nose. He gave me a welcoming smile.
“You’re not looking for a job by chance, are you? We have two chairs open, and because of the new owner, we’re getting a ton of extra business.”
Why was there a tiny ball of excitement spinning inside my chest? Wasn’t this what I was talking about before I came here? I mean, in my dream, I wanted to own the shop, but an opening was an opening.
“Uh…” I stepped closer to the desk that separated us, a little shocked, a little nervous. “Do you have an application, or how would I find out more about the position?”
The guy tore off his black latex gloves and minced toward the filing cabinet on the far wall. “I think Alice keeps them in here, but I know it's online as well. Here let me go grab you the card that has the info on it.”
The kid thumbed through a few papers, then the door behind me opened with what I assumed was a new client, but I watched as his countenance went slack.
“Mr. Ryan, hi! I mean, hello, sorry.” The kids face flushed a bright red, and my own seemed to flush with it, because holy shit, my fucking luck.
I slowly turned to see Wes standing in the doorway with his arms linked over his chest and the purple leash wrapped around his fist. A blunt contrast to how dangerous and handsome he was. His eyes darkened as he assessed me with a new sort of curiosity. Max pulled at the leash to get to me with a little whine, forcing me closer to Wesley’s side.
“Sorry, I was coming right back, but I wanted to check this out first.”
The kid stepped up right then and rounded the receptionist desk, his eager eyes focused on Wes. “I was just about to give her information on applying here to help cover the extra business we’ve gotten lately.”
I tried to make sense of Wesley’s place here, and the kid calling him Mr. Ryan. His name wasn’t on the manager card, but perhaps it was outdated.
“I wasn’t aware she was staying in Rose Ridge,” Wes said to the kid, but he was staring at me.
My slow-ass brain finally connected the dots, and I felt a tiny wince flash across my features.
“You’re the new owner?”
The kid was looking between us like he wasn’t sure what to do.
The silence stretched, his comment hanging in the air, my question going unanswered.
Finally, the kid coughed. “So should I give her the application info?”
Wes finally looked away from me and gave his attention to his employee.
“No, that won’t be necessary.”
Hurt wound around my chest and squeezed. It was irrational and stupid, because I wasn’t planning to stay in Rose Ridge, regardless, but still, the door I had so excitedly assumed was an opportunity just slammed in my face, and it hurt.
Without saying another word, I exited the tattoo shop and stormed down the street, letting Wes catch up. I was hungry, and I still wanted my grown-up conversation with the man, so I ventured toward the restaurant with the red awnings. While I walked, I worked to fortify my emotions and heart. No more fawning over Wesley’s words that kept throwing me for a loop, or his looks, or the way he kept touching me. I wanted a real conversation so I could sell the property, learn what he was hiding, and get the hell out of here.
Skirting the building, I found the front door that had cute lettering outlining the bistro name.
Clara’s.
The hostess gave me a thin but polite smile while she reached for a menu, then her face broke into something entirely different as she gazed over my shoulder. Her blue eyes lit up, her red lips widened, and her nails raked through her long black hair. I knew without seeing that Wes had just walked in. The way people in this town reacted to him was annoying as fuck.
“Hey, Jules, two please.” His voice echoed through the small foyer, and Max whined again, pushing his nose into my side.
