Draw Me In (3 page)

The pizza place was a no-go. So were the grocery store, the bank, the car wash, and the hair salon. The afternoon wore down, and so did my determination. Hour after hour I smiled, introduced myself, begged for an application. There were plenty of excuses: the downturn in the economy, family business, only hiring full-time employees. But no luck.

Dejected, I made my way past a line of evenly spaced trees toward the bus stop. My steps echoed on the cracked, lonely sidewalk. I glanced at my reflection in the plate-glass window of the closed and locked barbershop. Yup, I looked as bad as I felt. My stomach grumbled as I glanced at the screen of my cellphone. It was nearly six. If I hurried, I could make it to the dining hall before they closed. I didn’t have enough cash to buy both dinner and bus fare. I could probably borrow a few dollars from Jackie, if she was around, but I hesitated to do that. Right now I wasn’t certain I could ever pay her back. I jumped away from a nearby pigeon, which was pecking perilously close to my shoe. God, what a depressing day.

It was almost enough to make me wish I had a boyfriend to complain to. There had been a few guys interested in me over the past year at Leesville, but I couldn’t agree to anything more than a couple of dates. Relationships didn’t work, and I had solid proof of that. Better to be on my own, really. Less pain that way.

But before I could reach the bus stop, a neon sign caught my eye. “Sinful Skin Tattoos,” it read in curly blue script. “Open,” declared the reddish-orange block letters beneath it. The building was old, one of the more historic in downtown Leesville. Painted white quite recently, the curls and scrollwork along the roofline stood out against the dark brick of the neighboring stores. An alley cut along the left side of the building, a neat sign proclaiming that there was extra parking in the rear. Fresh flowers grew from a heavy black cauldron that looked like it had been ripped from a Halloween movie and plopped next to the entrance. The juxtaposition made me smile.

With a quick glance at the bus stop’s little shelter, I considered. I hadn’t checked out that side of the street. The place looked really interesting. Should I try over there? I bit my lip.

Tattoos? I hadn’t really thought about them much. I didn’t have any, but that was mostly because I hadn’t had a lot of spare cash. Most of my spending money went to art supplies and replacing clothes that I’d ruined with paint or turpentine. The idea of a permanent piece of art on my body was exciting, sure, but
working
at one of those places? Maybe my art would someday appear on someone’s skin. I tried it out, just to see how it sounded in my head.
Hailey Jakes— Award-Winning Tattoo Artist.
I grinned as a pigeon cooed before pecking my shoelace. I yelped in surprise, and the bird skedaddled.

I stared at the window. My parents would kill me if they stopped bickering long enough to notice.

My fists tightened at my sides. That clinched it.

Looking right, then left, I darted across the empty street and made for the door. Taped to the glass beside the door, a simple sign, black ink on white paper, caught my eye. “Help Wanted,” it declared in black block letters. “See Management.”

My stomach flipped excitedly as I pulled open the door. A rush of cooled air greeted me, and I stepped into a new world.

Inside the shop, everything was black or a deep maritime blue, with shiny chrome accents here and there. The reception area with its glossy black counter was tucked into the front right corner, and from there the lobby spread out like a huge living room with sumptuous black leather couches and chrome side tables bearing sculptures. Doors lined the walls on all sides of the lobby, presumably the private rooms where people got tattooed. Awards lined the vibrant blue wall behind the reception desk, where a friendly-looking young woman talked to a burly leather-clad man, both bearing some serious ink. The polished floors gleamed as if daring any dust bunny to ever dare tread upon them. Everything in here was classy with an edge. I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder and waited nervously.

God, it was gorgeous in here. Almost too nice. Maybe this was a bad idea. I wasn’t a tattoo artist. I could draw, but what if they wanted someone with experience? I wasn’t even sure what kind of job they were offering. What if they laughed me out of the place? I gripped the bag’s strap a little harder. It would probably be better to leave than to embarrass myself again. I wasn’t twenty yet. They’d probably want someone older, someone harder. More than a scared college girl.

I couldn’t do this. Why had I ever thought I could?

Turning on my heel, I crossed to the door. Better to leave now than face another disappointment.

“Hey, can I help you?”

The deep, masculine voice was like a punch to my gut. I gulped, then turned.

Good God, he was tall. Well, compared to my five-two, everyone was tall. But he had to clear six feet. I took him in slowly. Vintage jeans, a simple black tee, and arms full of colorful ink. Strong jaw dusted with five o’clock shadow, and silky black hair that curled around his ears. And then his eyes. Dark blue, so dark it was like the sky before an awful storm. He smiled, and I fought the urge to sway. It should be illegal to be that attractive.

“Sorry,” I stammered. “I’m sorry. I was just, well, I didn’t mean, and it’s . . . Oh, shit.”

He laughed, a deep rumbling sound that made me fight against melting. “Hey, it’s okay. Relax. I’m Neill.”

He stuck out his hand, which I shook while trying to clear the bewildered fog from my brain. His hand was strong and big, mine nearly disappearing inside it. “I’m Hailey. Hailey Jakes.” I cleared my throat as he released my trembling hand. I wiped the sweat from my palm onto my jeans as he looked straight into my eyes. Why’d he have to be so hot? “I . . . uh, I saw your sign in the window.”

Neill nodded, one corner of his mouth curled in a lazy grin. “Yeah, I just put that up. Our receptionist is leaving.” He indicated the woman at the counter, who was laughing with the customer. “You interested?”

“Well, actually, yeah,” I said quickly, my mouth running much faster than my brain. “I mean, if you’re okay with that. I love art. I’m a graphic design major over at Leesville, and I thought tattoos, hey, why not?”

“Come over here with me, and we can talk about it.” Neill gestured toward the back wall of the shop.

He started walking through the lobby area, and I hesitated for a split second. A tattoo shop? Really? But it was beautiful, and if anyone understood how I felt about art, it would be these people, right? And Jesus, was Neill gorgeous. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings to look at him every day. I pinned a confident smile on my face and followed him, passing by the array of doors. Some of them were closed, others were half open, and the sound of a harsh buzz assailed my ears. Laughter and conversation flowed like water through the studio, the whole assortment a happy, comforting sound.

I followed Neill into the room at the back corner of the shop. The decor in here matched the lobby, with blues and blacks and silver accents all around. A large drafting table was set up against one wall, and a light box occupied the majority of a nice desk. Unsure whether to sit or stand, I hesitated.

“Have a seat,” he said as he pointed at a comfy armchair nestled in the corner. Instead of sitting behind the black and chrome desk, he grabbed the seat next to me and turned it so we were facing each other. His knees were only an inch or so away from mine, almost close enough for me to feel his body heat. I wondered, only for a second, what it would feel like if he pressed forward, touching me. Innocent enough, but I wasn’t sure I’d want innocent with him.

Ease up, girl! What the hell?
I slammed those thoughts into a locked box and shoved them behind a curtain in my brain.
Think about the hell Mom and Dad put you through. No way do you need to get involved with a guy. Besides, if you’re lucky, this will be your boss. Total bad idea.

My knees started a rhythmic bouncing. It was the only way I could keep my hands from visibly shaking.

He gave a gentle smile as he propped his elbows on his thighs. “Hey, there’s no need to be nervous. I promise we’re easygoing around here.”

My laugh was high-pitched and nervous. “That’s good to know.” I tensed my quads to keep my legs still. It worked—sort of.

“So, Hailey, what do you do now?”

I tucked my hair behind my ear self-consciously. “Just school, actually. I’m looking for a job, though, obviously.” I groaned inside.
Of course, you idiot, you already told him that
.

“Graphic design, huh? Do you like art, or were you looking for the easy way out?”

I shook my head vehemently. “No, I love art. Really.”

“What do you do?”

“Drawing and painting, mostly. Some digital stuff, photo manipulation, that kind of thing. I love ceramics, too.” I almost let my glance dart away, but something in his gaze was magnetic. Those eyes were incredible. They made me long to pick up a pencil, try to capture their depth, their lusty deep blue color. “I guess you love art?”

Neill nodded, giving another lethal smile. “I’ve loved drawing since I was a kid. I used to tag a lot. I got into tattooing when I was pretty young. I apprenticed here, I tattoo here, and now I own half the business.”

“That’s great,” I said, unable to cover the surprise in my voice. Seriously? “I know this might seem like a rude question, but how old are you? You don’t look old enough to own half this place. Actually, you look close to my age.”

He laughed, and it rumbled straight through my body again. I willed myself to be still, to turn my insides into steel instead of molten mush.

“I’m twenty-four. And if you’re in college, you must be what, twenty?”

“Almost,” I said with a smile. “A few months. I’m going to see Razorwires for my birthday.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled his phone free, tapping the screen. “You mean these guys?”

I laughed delightedly as the middle of my favorite song wailed out from the tiny speakers. “Hells yeah,” I said.

Neill cut the music and winked. “I’m a fan, too.”

My blush warmed my cheeks, no matter how hard I tried to tamp it down. “That’s great.” Holy crap, this guy was too much. Was he flirting, or was I imagining it? I didn’t have the best radar when it came to guys. And I wanted him to be flirting with me, wanted it so bad it hurt. Even though it was the worst idea ever. My opinion of love and attraction was completely screwed up, probably forever.

At least my nervousness had drained away. Mostly.
Good God, I need therapy.

“So, anyway, the job.”

His words startled me from my daydream. “Right! The job. Yes.”

He leaned back in the chair, lacing his fingers over his flat belly. “The hours would be mostly evenings and weekends. You’d staff the front desk, answer phones, make appointments, take payments, and answer questions. General stuff.”

I nodded. “I can do all of that. Most of my classes are morning.”

“Do you have any tattoos?”

“No, I don’t. That isn’t a problem, is it?” I crossed my fingers beside my thigh.
Please let my unadorned skin not be the deal breaker!
I more than needed a job, I wanted this specific one. With this specific guy.

Neill laughed. “Not at all. It’s good to wait until you know what you want. Laser removal isn’t cheap, and neither is a good cover-up job. But if I’m right about you, and you really love art like you say you do, I doubt it’ll be long before you’ve got a piece.” Neill stood, and I jumped as I realized what part of his anatomy was at eye level. But he stepped away a split second later, and I sighed. Whether in relief or disappointment, I wasn’t sure.

“I can offer you nine bucks an hour. So, you in?”

I tried hard to make it look like I was thinking about it, gripping the armrests of the comfy chair, but the charade didn’t last long. “I’m in. When do I start?”

I almost floated back to campus. Even the fact that the dining hall had long since closed wasn’t enough to dampen my spirits. My keys jingled in the lock of my dorm room.

“Jackie?” I called softly as I opened the door. An empty room greeted me, my side partially organized with a haphazardly made bed and random stacks of books and folded clothes, Jackie’s side a chaotic jumble with zero semblance of order. The bathroom door stood open, our suitemate’s side shut.

“Must be out,” I said to myself as I raided our small fridge. A Snickers bar from the tiny freezer and a Diet Dr Pepper was a good dinner, right? I dropped into my desk chair, unwrapping the candy bar and grabbing a cold, sweet bite. With the chocolate melting in my mouth, I yanked open the desk drawer. The rest of my room might be a mess, but my art supplies were always painstakingly organized. With pencils and sketchpad in hand, and my blood sugar happily spiking, I started drawing.

A strong jawline shadowed with beard growth. An aquiline nose. Dark, curling hair that laid playfully against the collar of his tee. And the eyes. Those eyes were the hardest part. They weren’t just eyes, they were more than that. Portals to another world or pools of lust itself. The metaphor might be melodramatic, but dammit, they were gorgeous.

I concentrated as I lined each lash, portrayed each tiny beam of light, each dark fleck in those stormy blue eyes. When it was done, I sank back into the chair.

Neill. Neill Vanderhaven. I was crushing hard on my new boss.

The door to the room opened suddenly, and I jumped, slamming the sketchbook shut, nearly upsetting the remnants of my soda in the process.

“Hey, Hales!” Lily, my suitemate and good friend, nearly skipped into the room, her bright green earrings jingling softly; her dark eyes were bright with excitement. “You really missed a good Frisbee game this afternoon. Walt and Brian nearly killed each other. I didn’t know before today that contact Frisbee existed. Whatcha working on?”

I clutched the sketchbook to my chest. “Just doodling. Nothing, really.”

Lily flopped onto my bed, folding her long legs beneath her. “I wanted to see if you could help quiz me. I’ve got a chemistry test tomorrow, and some of these elements are tripping me up.” She shoved her bangs away from her forehead, the silky hair flopping right back into its previous position the moment her hand fell away.