Clipped Wings

11

TENLEY

On Saturday, Hayden showed up at the store, unshaven and unkempt, looking more beautiful than any man covered in tattoos and piercings had a right to. His hair was an insane mess. He ran his fingers through it, which did nothing to force it into submission.

He rounded the desk to peer over my shoulder at the pile of books I was cataloguing. The titles would have been just as visible from the other side of the counter.

“I had a dream about you last night,” Hayden said conversationally, making goose bumps rise along my arms.

“Really?”

“Mm. Really.” His voice was liquid smooth.

“Are you going to tell me about it?” I asked, sounding embarrassingly breathless.

He leaned in, and I could feel the warmth of his breath as it caressed my neck. “I’m not sure you’d be able to handle it.”

I sucked in a sharp gasp when his lips touched my cheek. I wasn’t as good at this game as Hayden was. He was dangerous seduction, and I was limited experience.

He chuckled and skimmed the shell of my ear with a fingertip. “I like it when you wear your hair up. The industrial looks hot on you.”

I didn’t say anything as he walked away because I wasn’t capable of speech. It took me a minute to recover, and when I did, I left the protective cover of the desk and started shelving new books in their appropriate aisles. I stayed close to the front so I wouldn’t miss any customers. My location also gave me a decent view of the café where Hayden was ordering coffees.

On his trip back through the store Hayden spotted me, half hidden between the stacks.

He looked smug as he muttered something about skittish kittens and headed for me. He set the coffees on a shelf and leaned against it. “I forgot to tell you, I’ll have your design ready sooner than I thought. We could move our date up from Monday if you wanted.”

“Tomorrow?”

“After your shift?” he suggested.

“Definitely.”

“I’ll pencil you in.”

Overcome by the impulse to touch him, I took a step toward him. I faltered, though, and my eyes dropped to the floor. “Thank you.” I was so close to him; he smelled like cologne and art supplies.

“Hey.” His hand move in my peripheral vision. His fingertips drifted up my arm and skimmed my throat until he was cupping my face in his palm. He tilted my head up, and when I met his gaze, his eyes blazed with a hunger as acute as mine. His thumb brushed across my bottom lip. “You don’t need to thank me. My motives are entirely selfish.”

Turning my head to the side, he dropped a kiss on my cheek, the hard steel rings a stark contrast to the softness of his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” I watched him disappear through the door and across the street.

Once he was gone I returned to the desk and sank into the chair. My sketchbook sat on the counter. I’d forgotten it at Inked Armor when I’d been there last. I’d been too afraid to go back and get it. A tiny white box was perched on top. Inside was a chocolate truffle in the shape of a cupcake.

On Sunday morning, I woke in my closet, cowering between my photo albums and the boxes I had yet to unpack. I dreamt I was being crushed between the seats of the plane. It marked a new low for my nightmares. On the upside, I wasn’t screaming, since I jammed my fist into my mouth, biting hard enough to leave marks. I shook off the residual anxiety and got ready for work. Later today I would get to see both my design and Hayden. That alone helped me push through the fatigue.

I left my apartment for Serendipity, noting a dip in temperature. The alley leading to the storefront became a wind tunnel, whipping my hair around my face. With each exhale a puff of breath hung suspended in the air before it disappeared, a fading reminder autumn had arrived and winter was on its heels.

Cassie was rearranging things in the window display when I arrived. A gust of wind followed me as I hurried in from the cold. Her hands went to her hips, and she glared at me as I shrugged out of my too-light jacket and stepped up into the display with her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked, running through the closing procedures from last night. Everything on the list had been checked off.

“We have an issue,” Cassie said.

“What kind of issue?”

“Why am I hearing from Lisa that Hayden agreed to work on you?”

“Oh.” I exhaled in relief. “That. You weren’t here on Thursday when he agreed.”

“I was here Friday,” Cassie pointed out, adjusting a place setting on a drop-leaf table.

“For all of five minutes before your hot date picked you up. Was your mini-vacation fun?” I asked.

I’d met her husband, Nate, a few times now. He was an attractive older man and easy to talk to. Neither characteristic was a surprise, considering whom he married. Cassie was the most genuine woman I’d ever met. Aside from my own mother. She had the same altruistic personality. Her intentions were always good and her motives pure.

Cassie blushed and waved her hand around to hide how flustered she was. “It was nice, but that’s beside the point.” The weekend must have been more than just nice, judging from the color of her cheeks. “So the cupcakes worked?”

“Oh, they worked, all right. A little preemptive warning might have been helpful. I would have worn battle armor if I’d known.”

Cassie grinned mischievously. “I told you he liked cupcakes.”

“Serious understatement, Cassie. He almost bit off one of my fingers.”

“What?”

“You should ask him to tell you the story. I’d be interested to hear what his version is.” I arranged a centerpiece in the middle of the table. “Anyway, I’m meeting with him after work to see what he came up with.”

“I’m glad. He comes off as abrasive, but he’s quite the pussycat under all that pretense.” Cassie unclasped the watch encircling her wrist. Beneath was a thin band of tattoo in black and pale blue, letters twisting together in delicate swirls.

“It’s beautiful.” I ran my fingers over the lines of ink. She didn’t have to tell me it was Hayden’s design; it bore his mark. “Eleanor?”

“She was my sister and Hayden’s mother.”

I read the dates embedded in her skin. “She passed away?”

“She did. Hayden was young when she died.”

“What happened?”

Cassie refastened the watch; it covered her tattoo perfectly. “I’m sure he’ll tell you at some point. It’s been difficult for him. He requires special handling.”

“Don’t we all?”

“Him more than most.”

Maybe that was where the connection came from: we were linked through the pain of loss.

It was a slow afternoon, so Cassie closed up early and I headed over to Inked Armor just before six. Chris was busy tattooing a terrifying-looking man with mammoth arms and a scruffy beard. Dimples appeared when he laughed at something Chris said, turning the scary down.

I didn’t see Hayden anywhere. Jamie, however, was hard to miss. He wasn’t in his usual jeans and T-shirt uniform. The guys typically wore shirts bearing the Inked Armor logo, but not today. Instead Jamie wore gray pin-striped pants that hung precariously low, a deep V of muscle on display. Lisa’s name was scrawled over his lower abdomen. The view was compromised by a black vest secured with one button. There were several more tattoos peeking out, but most of them were partially covered. On his right arm was a pinup version of Lisa, her hair light brown instead of pink.

“Hey, Tenley.” Jamie gave me a warm smile. “Hayden’s around here somewhere.”

“Thanks.” Too anxious to sit, I checked out the wall of designs, deciding what ones belonged to which artist in the shop.

“You’re earlier than I expected.”

Hayden stood behind his desk, the hint of a smile on his lips. He pulled out the chair beside his own and I crossed the room, my stomach twisting with a combination of apprehension and excitement. I took a seat.

“So, the sketch . . .” I began, but I trailed off as I met his intense gaze.

Hayden leaned back and swiveled in his chair, hands laced behind his head, showcasing solid biceps and taut forearms. I could see more of his tattoos. The body of the fish wrapped around the inside of his arm. Water splashed violently around the tail, giving the impression the fish was fighting its way upstream. A silver ball popped out from between Hayden’s lips, sliding back and forth to click against a ring.

“Here’s the deal. I’ll show you what I’ve got if you agree to get a small tattoo first.”

“We’ve already been over this. I know what I want,” I replied, annoyed.

He unlaced his hands and rested his forearms on his knees, his fingers grazing my thigh. He was so close I could feel the energy radiating from him. It reminded me of an oiled dirt road in the middle of summer, the waves of heat rolling off the ground to create a haze in the air. “Yes, you’ve said that, but there are some good reasons for you to get a small piece first.”

“I don’t—”

He cut me off. “—want a small one. I know. But we don’t know how you’ll react to the ink. Some people have problems with red, and there’s fire in your design. If you react to it on a small scale, you’ll need to take an antihistamine. If you have a serious reaction, we might need to modify the color scheme. We also have to find out what your pain threshold is.”

He raised a finger to prevent me from interrupting. My capacity for physical pain was high. A tattoo would be nothing compared to what I’d experienced, but I remained silent, unwilling to share that information with him yet.

“If you let me do a test run, I’ll have a frame of reference. Then I’ll know whether you can handle a four-hour session. More importantly, I want to see how quickly you heal. Most multi-session tattoos require a minimum of two weeks’ recovery time between appointments. A test run will help determine whether we can work with that time frame. Above all else, it goes against my personal ethics to put a full back tattoo on a girl who doesn’t even have something small hidden under her clothes.” He grinned, looking too pleased for my liking, as if he’d won the argument already.

“I wasn’t completely honest with you about this being my first tattoo.”

“Excuse me?” His grin vanished, and a flash of anger hardened his features. I couldn’t understand why my admission would elicit such a reaction. It should have had the opposite effect.

“I have a small tattoo,” I admitted.

“Where?”

“On my hip, but it wasn’t professionally done.” I rushed to explain. “I got it a few years ago, for my eighteenth birthday.” He’d gone eerily still. It made me nervous.

“I’d like to see it.” He rolled his chair back, putting space between us.

“Right here?” I looked around the studio. There were customers in the shop, and the tattoo sat pretty low on my hip.

“Would you prefer privacy?” I couldn’t understand how he managed to make something that should have come off as a reasonable offer for discretion sound so sensual.

“That might be best.”

Unmoving, he stared at me for a protracted moment before he led me to one of the private rooms and closed the door. “Let’s take a look then.”

I could feel the flush in my cheeks as I popped the button on my pants and lowered the zipper. I flipped over the waistband, thankful I’d had the foresight to wear nice underwear. My bra matched, but that was beside the point. It wasn’t like he would get a chance to see it. I pushed my underwear out of the way, but the tiny black heart remained covered. Embarrassed, I shimmied my jeans down farther, finally exposing the old, poorly done tattoo.

Hayden crouched in front of me, putting him at eye level with the tattoo. He inspected it closely, and I became aware of just how low it sat. Maybe Connor’s anger had had less to do with the tattoo and more to do with the placement.

“Who the hell did this?” He ran his thumb over the faded ink, frowning.

The tattoo had hurt when I’d had it done, but now Hayden’s touch made me conscious of a different kind of ache centered between my thighs. It grew with the prolonged sweep of his thumb, back and forth. He looked up at me, waiting. Right. He’d asked a question.

“A friend of mine. It was stupid, really. He did it in his basement.”

“He what?” Now he sounded livid.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” I replied. His hair kept falling in his eyes and he kept blowing it out of the way, puffing out gusts of air. Every time he did, it would flop back in place, covering his left eye. I ran my fingers through the disobedient strands. It was soft. I wanted to do it again.

One of Hayden’s hands was on my hip, holding me steady, while the other was still touching my tattoo. He froze. I dropped my hand, and his hair flipped forward in rebellion.

“Sorry.”

He unfurled out of his crouch with a fierce expression. “Don’t apologize for touching me.”

Hayden was close, invasively so. There was so much raw heat occupying the space around him that it was hard to breathe. I felt enveloped by him. He was always so tightly wound, buzzing with pent-up energy. I imagined when he let it out it was a sight to behold.

“Sorry.”

He gave me a look.

“For apologizing. It won’t happen again.” I bit the inside of my lip to stop from smiling.

We stared at each other, some strange shift taking place. I wasn’t sure what was happening between us, but it felt like whatever our tentative friendship was transforming into, the process wasn’t reversible. Like a chemical reaction, there was no going back once the catalyst had been added.

“I can fix this. I can cover it up.” His thumb moved over the tattoo again, reminding me how close it truly was to places I shouldn’t be fantasizing about Hayden touching.

“It’s not necessary.”

“Fuck that noise. This tattoo is a travesty. If I’m putting more ink on you anyway, we might as well start by covering over this one.” He took a small step back. “And for future reference, this is your hip.” He tapped the spot four inches diagonally to the right, then swept his finger down to the heart. “And this is about an inch shy of your pelvis.”

“Thanks for the anatomy lesson.” I went for sarcasm, but it came out sounding wanton. An anatomy lesson from Hayden would be unforgettable, I was sure.

“For you? Anytime.” He looked dangerously serious. “Now can I fix this shit or what?”

My hesitation was short-lived. Covering over the old tattoo might help erase some of the bad memories associated with it. I wouldn’t have that painful reminder of Connor’s disapproval anymore. “Fine, but you have to do it tonight, because I want to get the back piece under way as soon as possible.”

“Do you really think you can order me around?” He crossed his arms over his chest in a show of dominance.

“I have more cupcakes in my apartment. You can have them if you fix this tonight.”

“Are you trying to bribe me?”

“Is it working?”

“Yes.”

“Great, let’s do it.” I clapped my hands together with genuine enthusiasm. Even if it was a small tattoo, Hayden would be touching me for an extended period of time.

“What do you want?”

Hayden had mentioned a ladybug last time. Those brought back memories of my mother, not all of which were necessarily good. “Um . . . I don’t know. Maybe I could look at one of your albums.”

“I have a better idea.” He held up a finger and left the room.

When he came back he was holding a file folder with my name artfully scrawled across the front. He slid out a piece of paper; on it were a number of small sketches. There were several blossoms in various shades of pink, all of which were beautiful. But what grabbed my attention was the adaptation of the cupcake drawing he’d gone crazy over when I’d first showed him my design.

“When do I get to see my sketch?” I asked, wanting assurance he wasn’t putting it off indefinitely.

“Right after I fix your botched home brew.”

He was way too complacent. But then he must have planned it this way, coercing me into a small tattoo in order to see the design I wanted.

I pointed a finger at him. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said with contrived innocence.

“I could still talk to Chris about this,” I threatened, moving toward the door. It irked me that he tried to manipulate me, and that part of me enjoyed the manipulation.

That sobered him. “Settle down there, kitten.” Hayden threaded his fingers through mine and pulled me close, the intimacy unexpected. He was such a contradiction–hard one minute, soft to the point of vulnerability the next.

“I need to make sure you’re serious and that you can handle this. You’re asking for a lot of ink. Usually there’s a story behind something so significant, but you don’t seem all that keen to tell it.” When I stayed silent, he gave me a wry smile. “I want to be the one who puts it on you. So if you’ll let me fix the tattoo you have, I’ll feel better about inking your entire back.”

“You’re manipulative.”

My threat to go to Chris was empty. I wanted it to be Hayden as much as he seemed to want the same. Part of the draw came from Hayden’s ability to ease the ache inside with his presence alone. I craved the hours of relief that would come from being near him. I wanted a chance to heal, to transfer what was inside onto my skin.

“And you’re cute when you’re mad. Now drop your pants.” He stepped back and waved his hand in the direction of my crotch.

“Pardon?” I blushed, and then blushed some more.

“Your pants, they’re in the way. I can’t work on you like that.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“You’re asking me for a full back tattoo. Which means you’re going to be naked from the waist up, alone with me in a room, for the better part of twenty hours, and you’ve got hang-ups about dropping trou’ for a little one above your pubic bone?”

“Can I leave my underwear on?”

His brow furrowed, and then he laughed. “I don’t need you to take them off, I just need them below your hips so I have enough room to work. Unless you want to take them off. I’m not opposed.”

“Of course you’re not.” Considering how fitted they were, getting my pants over my hips took some effort, even though the button was loose and the zipper was down. My underwear and half my butt were on display. I didn’t think I could be any more embarrassed. I sat down in the tattooing chair, hoping I had given Hayden enough room to work without putting on a show.

He maneuvered around me on a rolling chair. “I’m going to suggest some looser clothes when we start sessions for the back piece. Constrictive clothing tends to make things more difficult.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

He suppressed a smirk while I watched him prepare his station. He donned a pair of latex gloves, then set out a razor, a spray bottle of solution, several small cloths, a new needle in a cellophane package, his tattoo machine, the ink, and finally the design.

“All set?” he asked.

I gripped the armrests. “Good to go.”

Hayden ran a gloved finger over the old ink before he sprayed the solution on my skin. He wiped it down, then removed the plastic guard from the razor.

“Will you have to do that on my back?” I asked as he passed the blade over the area.

“No, this is just perfunctory.” His head was bowed, his brow creased in concentration. “It’s a small tattoo. I’m making sure the area is clean, but you’ve, uh—” He coughed. His tongue ring clicked against his viper bite. “—taken care of that for me.”

A sensual smile appeared as he wiped the site with a cloth. I looked away, unable to handle the flirting when I was so exposed.

“Wait! I didn’t even make a decision,” I said when he picked up the transfer.

“I can make it for you.”

I knew without asking which one he would choose. “Don’t you think it’s kind of juvenile?”

“A cupcake right here?” He traced the old tattoo. “No. I don’t think it’s juvenile. I think it’s sexy.”

When he said it like that, looking at me the way he did, it was hard to find a reason to disagree. It was the tattoo I’d wanted originally. No one could tell me no anymore. He waited for my approval before he sprayed the area again and pressed the stencil to my skin.

He peeled it away slowly and inspected the placement. Satisfied, he handed me a mirror and turned to his workstation. Hayden held up the cellophane-wrapped needle for me before he broke open the package and assembled his machine. He worked with skilled precision, moving from one task to the next with efficiency. The session would be over far more quickly than I liked.

“Ready?” he asked as he swiveled to face me.

“Definitely.” I was all in now. The opportunity to cover over one of the many points of contention between Connor and me presented too much of an allure. Connor’s reaction to the black heart had caused the first fissure in our relationship. The cupcake would hide this reminder that he and I might not have been the match I originally believed us to be.

Hayden turned on music before he started, the beat a complement to the hum of the tattoo machine. He dipped the needle into the ink and pressed lightly against my skin. It didn’t hurt the way it had the first time. Initially it stung, but soon the sensation hovered between mild irritation and pleasure. He was careful as he worked; one hand splayed out over my lower abdomen while he traced the lines of the stencil. His touch was gentle, a soothing counterpart to the bite of the needle.

“Everything okay?” The hot sting was briefly eclipsed by the cool swipe of the cloth as Hayden wiped away the residual ink.

“It’s fine, hardly hurts at all.”

The drone of the tattoo machine started up a few seconds later and Hayden resumed tattooing. He asked me about school, keeping up a steady stream of conversation while he outlined the design and filled it in with color. I told him about my program and the class I was teaching. I avoided his questions about my advisor and the content of my thesis paper. The revisions had been sent to Professor Calder. All I could do was hope he was satisfied. The alternative was too disheartening to consider.

Too short a time later, the buzzing ceased. He set down the machine and gave the tattoo a final swipe with the cloth, examining it.

“All done,” he said hoarsely and cleared his throat.

He offered me his hand, and I stood with his assistance, greedily accepting the prolonged contact. He guided me to the full-length mirror and placed his gloved fingertips on my hips, turning me until the light hit the tattoo just the right way. No one would ever guess it had been a cover-up for a badly drawn heart.

“It’s perfect.”

“The canvas made it easy,” he said and waited for me to finish inspecting it before he dressed the tattoo. I stood while he sat. He made one last pass over the fresh ink with a new cloth. Next he rubbed a dab of ointment over the area before he secured it with gauze and medical tape.

“So . . .” I pulled my pants over my hips and buttoned them. “Can I see the design?”

The professional guise dropped. Hayden’s hand smoothed down the outside of my thigh. “I’d be inclined to show you anything you want right about now.”