Ink Inspired-epub (3 page)

“Honey, I’m way too fucking old to be looking at some coed, and that wasn’t a line, the thing about the muse. I’ve been in a funk, and that has nothing to do with getting laid or even working on your ink. And I do, by the way, want to work your ink. When I saw you on the street a little while ago I was intrigued. That doesn’t happen often. Not anymore. So, yeah, I want to see what tattoo you want and why. I want to get to know you.”

That threw her. Get to know her? Just what exactly was he saying? And now he wanted to ink her? This Shep was making her head spin in more ways than one.

“You’re going to have to take this one step at a time for me, Shep,” she finally said after she took a deep breath to gather her thoughts. “One minute you’re acting like a brute, telling me I can’t have a tattoo and I stick out like a sore thumb. You say you aren’t hitting on me, but you’re intrigued and want to work on my
ink,
as you put it.”

Shep smiled, a flash of white against his beard. “Sounds about right.”

“You make no sense. I’m just going to go.” She was done. She had been an idiot to even think about coming down to Midnight. Though this hadn’t been an impulsive decision—not by far—she still felt out of her depths. That feeling wasn’t something she enjoyed, and giving up at this point seemed like the best option.

“Don’t go, Shea.”

She hated how much she loved the sound of her name on his lips.

“Why should I stay?”

“Because you came here for a reason. I don’t know what it is yet, considering I’m still waiting for that answer to my first question. You should also stay because, despite the clothes you’re wearing, the ice you’ve shielded yourself with, and the fear in your eyes, you still had the balls to walk through those doors. Now, don’t get me wrong, we’re not that scary in there. Okay, maybe Caliph is, but other than that, we’re good. We wouldn’t hurt you, and we’re not the scary deviants you might think we are from watching movies or some shit.”

Shea had no idea who Caliph was, but she knew the people in that building weren’t too scary. She didn’t judge people on their appearances like so many others did, like so many judged her.

“I need to go,” she whispered, scared now for a whole other reason.

“Tell me why you want a tattoo.”

She huffed out a breath and looked into his eyes. “I want one because…because it’s not me. Or at least not the me everyone else thinks I am. I’m tired, Shep. So, so tired of being...this.” She pointed down at herself and sighed.

He cupped her face, and she gasped, unprepared for his heated touch. “That’s all I wanted to hear, Shea. Now, what do you want?”

You.

She blinked. Well, that stray thought was just freaking crazy. She didn’t even know him.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I want something that’s me. I just don’t know what or who that is.”

Shep pulled away slightly, and she felt the loss of his touch down to her bones. “Okay then. I’ll help you. Whatever you want, it should be something that’s just for you, a design that makes doing something different worth it.” He grinned. “Plus, in order to find out what will work for you, I get the opportunity to know you better. A definite plus for me.”

He wanted to get to know her? Her? The ice princess in pale clothes who liked to blend into the woodwork if she could?

“Do you always get so personal with your clients?”  she asked, a strange line of jealousy threading its way through her. She didn’t want to be just another woman he
got to know
before he inked her and left.

Well, hell, now she sounded crazy.

He brushed her cheek with the tip of his finger, and she held back a shudder. “I’ve never done it like this before,” he said softly. “I'm marking someone's skin forever. It's always personal. It doesn't matter if I don't know everything about them or what makes them tick. I do know what that tattoo means to them—at least a semblance of it. I can't just sit back and watch you make a decision you might regret. ”

“You don't know me well enough to know I'll regret it.” No one did.

“I want to know you enough.”

She’d come to Midnight Ink for a reason, and now Shep was going to help her. No matter that she thought she was crazy and everyone who knew her would think the same, there was only one answer.

“Yes. Okay. Let’s do that.”

Shep grinned and leaned forward. Shea’s chin raised on its own accord, but he didn’t kiss her. She felt oddly bereft that he didn’t even try, but she didn’t say anything. He brushed her cheek once more and smiled softly.

He reached around to his back pocket and pulled out a card. “Here you go. Take this and I’ll get yours.”

She nodded and pulled a card out of her purse. He looked down and smiled. “Accountant. Totally knew it.”

Great. She even
looked
boring.

“Hey now. I like prim and proper. I’ll call you in a bit, and we can talk about what we’re going to do and how I’m going to help you find the perfect ink.”

“Okay,” she whispered, not feeling at all like the cold woman she usually was. Shep seemed to heat her up from the inside out, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

With one last look, he walked back into Midnight, leaving her on the street, dazed. She shook her head, made her way back to her car, then back to her house, his card still clutched in her palm. She never took days off, but she’d taken this one off to get it done and now the day was ruined, wasted.

She had no idea what she was doing.

Shea walked into her home and took a look around. The prim house, the prim decorations, the prim…everything. None of it showcased who she was.

No, it told her who her mother was and what her mother wanted for her when Shea bought the house. Shea had long ago given up the fight when it came to what her mother wanted.

Well, other than leaving Richard, her ex-fiancé. Her mother had screamed and threatened to disown her for making what she considered the mistake of a lifetime.

Shea never could live up to her mother’s dreams.

She took off her shoes and walked to the couch, sinking into its cushions. Everything around her was so cold, uninviting, but the cushions on the couch were soft enough that she could at least get somewhat comfortable.

The card in her hand called to her, and she looked down at it. What the heck was she doing? She had gone into Midnight Ink because her New Year’s resolution was to do something for herself, something so out of character that she just might be able to find the person she wanted to be.

She’d always loved ink. She loved the way people looked with it. She thought the swirls, dark colors, and shading were freaking sexy. She’d always been too chicken to do anything about it before. Now, though, she wanted it.

She just didn’t have a clue about what design she wanted. Shep was going to help with that though.

Shep.

His dark hair and light eyes called to her, even if she had no idea why. He was going to help her find herself. Okay, that sounded lame, even though it was true.

Everything could go up in flames if she made the wrong choice, but it didn’t matter.

It was all or nothing.

Her cell rang, and she frowned. God, she hoped it wasn’t Richard or her mother. They never stopped bugging her with their own opinions on how she should run her life.

She didn’t recognize the number on the screen, so she answered as coolly as possible.

“Yes?”

“Shea? It’s Shep.”

Her pulse beat in her ears, and she swallowed hard.

“Yes, this is Shea.”

“I’m glad you didn’t give me a fake card. That’s why I asked for that rather than you putting your number in my phone. Harder to fake that on the fly.”

“Oh. I guess.”

Great. She needed to learn to use complete sentences, or he was going to think she was a complete idiot.

“What do you say I take you out for a night on the town tomorrow night after my shift?”

“Why? For what?”

He gave a deep chuckle, and it shot straight between her legs. Dear Lord, even the man’s laugh was sexy.

“I told you I want to get to know you to help you. And fuck, just to get to know
you
. I’m thinking we can pick up a quick dinner then spend the rest of the night exploring to see what you like. What do you say?”

He wanted to do something without a firm schedule she could check over and over again? She wasn’t a hundred percent sure of that; this wasn’t normal for her. She didn’t
want
it to be normal.

“Okay. That sounds fine.”

“Good. I’ll meet you in front of the shop at seven tomorrow. That way you’ll feel more comfortable than me coming to your house and freaking you out.”

She relaxed and smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. She didn’t know how he knew she was worried about him knowing where she lived, but she liked it.

“Okay.”

“Okay then. See you tomorrow, Shea.”

“Tomorrow, Shep.”

He hung up, and she stared at the phone, not sure what had just happened. She’d spent too much of her life on the sidelines, and this man and his ideas could help her.

Those striking blue eyes, the scratchy voice, and his sexy tattoos just might be worth upsetting her whole world order.

Shep changed needles, finished with the overall outline and ready for shading. He rolled his shoulders and took a look at his work.

Not bad.

Okay, it was better than that. Way fucking better, but he knew it was a process, and he was never happy with his work until the finished project. Each layer of outlining, shading, and color added to the overall look. He knew what he wanted and how that blended with what the client wanted. Eventually, once he added the final layers, the tat would look fucking amazing. Now, though, it was only a half-finished piece.

“How’s it looking?” the man on the bench asked, careful not to turn around.

Shep was in the middle of putting a kick-ass phoenix on the man’s back with its wings wrapping around the side. He’d finished the outline in their last session and was going over certain spots today to make sure they were perfect. Then he’d be doing some of the initial shading before he added color. He usually waited to do the shading, but he wanted to make sure it didn’t look too dark since the vibrant orange and reds really needed to pop in the finished piece.

“It’s gonna fucking rock,” Shep answered and began the shading. The buzzing sound of the needle shot straight through him as it always did. He loved shading the best because the needle moved at a slower pace, and for most people, it felt hella good.

From the way his client moaned, Shep wasn’t wrong.

He worked for another two hours, his mind on his hands and his ink. While some people might daydream while working, his job was a little different. One wrong movement and he’d fuck up someone’s skin.

Not cool.

Even as he tried to keep focus, though, his thoughts went to the woman with pale, pale blue eyes…like crystals in water on a sunny day and a pixie face.

Shea.

Jesus, he liked that smooth-as-silk yet hard-as-ice woman, and he didn’t even know her past a few words and touches.

There had to be something wrong with him. He’d never been drawn to a woman like her at all.

Shep moved back and shook his head while cleaning off the leftover ink, plasma, and blood from where he was working. He seriously needed to get his mind off Shea and their date tonight. She might not call it a date, but he would. He wanted her, and he wasn’t going to lie to himself about it. He was way too damned old for that.

He rolled his shoulders and got back to work. This phoenix was going to fucking rock. He’d known it when he’d first done the sketches over a month ago, but it wasn’t until now that he really thought it could be something big.

There was another spark running along his skin, getting him excited about what he was doing for the first time in way too long.

It had to be Shea. She was the only thing different in his life, even though she really wasn’t a huge part of it.

At least not yet.

He was going to change that.

He grinned and started on some of the color for the wings, getting into each stroke of the needle.

After another hour and a half, he pulled back, sweat marking his brow and his back straining. Too many hours bent over a table would do that to a man.

He snorted, thinking about what Caliph or Austin would say to him if he’d said that aloud.

Yeah, not sharing that thought.

He cleaned up the guy’s back then put ointment on the area. “Okay, you’re all done for this session. I think one more should do it.”

The guy got up and smiled. “You’re a god with the needle, Shep. It didn’t hurt a bit.”

Shep grinned. “Even if it did, you’d like it.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “True. So when can we do our last session?”

Shep went through the aftercare instructions. This guy was a regular, but it never hurt to go over them again. The last thing Shep wanted was a shitty healing and cleanup job to ruin his art. They scheduled the session for three weeks from then when they both had time, and Shep went back to clean up his space.

He’d really gotten into the piece, and it had taken a full hour longer than he’d intended. It was already quarter ‘til seven. He wouldn’t have time to head home and grab a quick shower.

Shit.

He hadn’t wanted to look like a sweaty loser for his date, but she’d have to take what she got. After all, he was just Shep. He’d have to be good enough.

He went to the employee restroom and stripped off his shirt, then pulled another on. He would still wear his worn-in jeans and boots, but at least he had a black button-down to wear. It was just getting to that time of year when it was muggy at night too, so he didn’t bother with his leather jacket. He ran his hand through his hair and called it a day.

He didn’t look like some
GQ
model with the tats, nipple piercings—and more—but he did all right for himself. From the way Shea’s gaze raked his body the day before, he had a feeling what he had did it for her. What she had sure as fuck did it for him.